"A DIFFERENT Hari Raya? And what's to make it stand out from the others? All are special."
That is how Uncle Adzahan would have put it, with his customary hearty laugh, if he were spoken to in the well-manicured and tree-fringed lawn of his sturdy, white bungalow.
For he understood life better than most. The long years in the reserve officer training unit (1979-1998) in the then Universiti Pertanian Malaysia must have fashioned his outlook. So must have his days as a student in the Federal Military College and National University of Singapore, and his love of history books.
Discipline and conviction then were, unsurprisingly, his mast and sail. And providence, his wind. Ha ha. But we never called him "Major", which was the final rank he attained.
It was not hard to notice the former deputy registrar's firm hand. The belief in doing the right thing, even though he might have come across as unduly stern, as his son Fairuz puts it.
He was not a forbidding figure though. Far from it.
Neither was he one for fawning. For sure he would have detested a hagiography of himself. Some politicians who have amassed great power would love one, but not Uncle Adzahan.
He was a man above all, and his strengths and weaknesses he submitted in obedience to his Maker. That much I could sense in him.
And much did we see of him in the emerald lawn of No. 16. In the cheerful and cosy compound which he and Aunty Rehan moved into about 40 years ago.
It is far removed from the place near Kota Baru, where he grew up. But the fruit trees and flowers have strong roots and grew nearly as well, tended by him under that wide-brimmed straw hat in the mild Padang Tembak mornings.
So were his relationships with neighbours deeply rooted. A close friend, Uncle Shahrin, remembers this slight and unassuming man who extended the "salam" to him many moons ago.
"I was admiring my recently bought plot of land when Adzahan came about. That was the first time I met him. Right then through this person, I got the impression that I had brought my family into a good neighbourhood."
Time and again in the past 30 years was he proven right, Shahrin reckons. For Uncle Adzahan would always be the first to respond. "From the demise of a neighbour or when one was ill or a suspicious character was loitering about, to a clogged drain or broken pipe. He made us feel secure in the neighbourhood."
Of this trait the Christys had discerned early. They have known the Adzahans for about four decades. And at various moments in those long years have they come to each other's aid.
For them, though, there is something else of unknowable value in the relationship. In its presence and absence.
They are of different faiths, but their gaits remained the same as they entered each other's homes on Christmas and Hari Raya Aidilfitri and Aidiladha. Always trusting, always understanding, always without misgiving. Uncle Adzahan led by example.
We can never make too much of it. Uncle and Aunty Rehan and brood tasted and felt our hospitality. And we, theirs. It was so, for a time, in this brief existence of places and chapters.
Thus it was before Covid-19 landed on our shores and remade the lay of the land.
But now life has gone on to a new page, and Uncle Adzahan remains only in the wistful words and colours of memories, in the life that he built for his family and neighbours.
Those days when we saw him and Aunty going on long strolls in the cool morning, those times when he pored over his favourite books on history, and those moments when he heartily tucked into nasi dagang, nasi kerabu, nasi berlauk and laksam will remain with all of us, until we, too, bid farewell to the earthly shores in the eventide of life.
He was 74 when he passed away in Kubang Kerian, Kota Baru, just before Xmas last year. His wife, four children and eight grandchildren miss him. In a way, so do the Christys and other neighbours.
Hari Raya Aidilfitri and Aidiladha will be different, Uncle. So will Christmas. But your example will remain, as the flowers and trees of our emerald gardens will endure. You will yet live in us. Farewell, Major.
The writer is NST production editor
