I WAS 5 when we welcomed the new addition to our family — Atol. The presence of my youngest sister had changed my family's life.
Bapak had to bring Mak and the baby frequently to the hospital. The hospital in Kuala Lumpur was a good 4-5 hours' car ride from Kuala Kangsar.
As Atol grew older, I had to accompany her to the hospital. During earlier visits, the sessions were a bit intense as Atol refused to allow the doctors to examine her.
She would scream loudly and there were times when she tried to run and leave the examination room. Once, Mak asked me to allow the doctor to run the test on me first, so that Atol could see it.
The approach made the session calmer as Atol began to trust the doctor, and understood that they were not going to do anything bad to her. It soon became our routine.
I understood then, despite my young age, that the doctor was only pretending to test me.
However, I could not comprehend what the deal was until the day Mak explained that Atol was having problems with her hearing and that the doctor was trying to fix it.
Atol was born deaf. As time passed, I began to get less attention from Mak and Bapak. I noticed that our elder cousins who lived with us, too, began to give extra attention to her.
Being "less" (as Mak and Bapak would always describe her), Atol got almost everything she wanted. Her most effective method in getting what she wanted was through a tantrum.
Once, my brothers tried to persuade Bapak to buy a video cassette recorder (VCR) but failed. I secretly influenced Atol to ask it for us. We got our VCR later that week.
I remember an incident when Bapak bought me a new badminton racquet which I had requested for months. Atol saw the new racquet and asked to play with it, but I refused. That made her scream and she insisted on getting it.
Mak intervened, and I reluctantly handed the racquet to her. After a while, she got bored with the racquet and hit the floor with it. It was crooked and full of scratches. I was mad and hated her for that.
At the age of 7, Atol started to go to a special school. Mak decided to quit her job as a nurse in a government clinic to care for Atol full-time. I would accompany Mak when she brought food to Atol during morning school recess.
Atol would eat with us in the teachers' section. I felt awkward. We continued doing this throughout her primary school years.
It was a love-hate relationship between Atol and me. We fought almost every day, but Atol insisted on my company every day.
When I went to study abroad, we missed each other a lot. There was no video call technology then that would allow us to communicate in sign language, which made being apart more difficult.
I could hear her voice in the background, excited to know that I called. Mak once wrote a long letter, telling how much she missed me and that she felt Atol missed me, too.
Mak explained that Atol's adolescent years were even more difficult, especially emotionally, when she began to grasp that she was different, and that she was "less" than others.
When Atol finished secondary school, I coordinated with Persatuan Cacat Pendengaran Kuala Lumpur to let her go to their office and work for free, as there was no vacancy for her.
I would drive her to work and pick her up later in the evening. At the end of every month, I would secretly pass RM300 in an envelope to the office and told them to give it to Atol as if it was her monthly salary.
This went on for a few months until Atol decided to quit her "job" as she told me that she was bored. We had a big fight after that and I felt very frustrated after all the effort. Miraculously, my doa was granted. After I completed Asar prayers, Atol came to my room, apologised and told me that she would go to work the next day. I nodded and as she left, I wept.
I told my family that I planned for Atol to have her own driving licence and that I had been teaching her driving for weeks. Mak initially resisted, but I eventually convinced her.
Atol received her driving licence after five theory exam attempts but passed her driving test on the first attempt. I arranged with a friend to employ Atol in his company in Klang.
She started driving to work. She had a few minor accidents, but we managed. However, she quit the job after a year.
Our love-hate relationship remained, and we had our fights and disagreements. Bapak advised me not to be too tough on Atol, and that I needed to realise she was "less". But he understood that I did it out of love.
I disagreed, and told him that one day, he and Mak would leave us for good and that Atol needed to be independent.
One day, I would have my own family and my priorities would be different. She needed to know she was not "less" and that she could be "more".
Nevertheless, I told my future wife then, Atol would be a permanent part of our lives if we got married and explained the challenges of that fact. She understood this.
Atol became an orphan at the age of 37. It was difficult for all of us. But it would have been more difficult if there was no effort to make her independent.
She is 44 this year, lives in her own house, sells homemade cookies online and spends most of her income shopping online.
During a weekend trip to a shopping mall, we had to find our parking like others as she insisted that the OKU parking lot was not for her and it was only for those who "cannot walk" and in wheelchairs, as indicated on the sign.
She has social media accounts and frequently shares words of wisdom received from friends and posts her daily activities. We still fight, virtually, by exchanging angry emojis.
We seldom meet, as most weekends she would hang out with friends or attend Islamic classes organised by Persatuan Orang Cacat Pendengaran Selangor. She even signed up for the monthly sign language Quran reading classes.
Every time I have an argument with Atol, I would share my regrets with my wife for being too harsh. Dina would console me, and explained that at times, tough love was needed.
Regardless of how I disagree with the concept of Atol being "less", I have to accept the fact. Mak and Bapak were right, but when I look back, I believe that not accepting that she is "less" is what made Atol who she is today.
There is greater potential in all of us waiting to be explored. Not overcoming the belief that we cannot do more is what makes us less.
The writer believes that everybody should explore their full potential and in his sister's ability to deal with everyday challenges