The song Always on My Mind by Willie Nelson has long echoed in my thoughts. This Teachers’ Day, I dedicate this piece to Venukopalan Chellathurai, or Venuji as he is fondly known — a dedicated, charismatic teacher and a relative. An unsung educator.
Our story begins in the 1950s in Temerloh, hometown of Sudirman Hj Arshad. I was born in Mentakab, as there was no hospital in Temerloh then. We were neighbours in the government quarters known as Clerks Settlement, our fathers both civil servants.
I remember little of those early years. What remains are stories — like the one about Venuji’s younger sibling, just six months older than me, who once bit me as a toddler. It is a story that has somehow endured, even if I carry no proof.
Soon after, my family moved to Kuala Lipis. Meanwhile, Venuji, the only boy among his siblings, took on heavy responsibilities when his father passed away during his schooling years.
After school, he would cycle house to house under the scorching sun, selling homegrown vegetables to support his family.
Even then, he was meticulous — keeping records in a 555 notebook, mindful of customers who delayed payment. He still jokes that someone owes him RM2.50.
He often credits his mother — the rock of the family — for shaping his character and values.
In the 1980s, I would visit him in Klang, as our mothers remained close. As teachers, we shared a natural camaraderie. Beyond the classroom, Venuji devoted himself to social service, contributing actively to the Malaysian Red Crescent Society and the St. John Ambulance Malaysia.
He served as afternoon supervisor at SMK Sultan Abdul Samad, where he was known to be both strict and caring — ensuring every student left safely before he did. Years later, two of his students — Mahaletchumy and Malani — became teachers themselves, and were teaching in the same school where I was the senior assistant.
Being one not to go and rub shoulders with the upper echelon, he retired as a head of department, receiving a rousing farewell for his unconditional and dedicated service as an educator at every school that he served.
I, being a co-teacher, am thankful that I got to receive his invaluable advice from time to time, when I was teaching in Klang.
On a personal note, despite health challenges, he graciously served as master of ceremony at my daughter’s wedding — a gesture my wife and I deeply appreciate.
When his son married in 2016, it was a memorable occasion — a testimony to the sacrifices he had made all his life as an educator, and social services rendered.
On that day, in the wee hours, a large crowd of well-wishers assembled at his house in Klang. From there, a convoy of cars took off to the remote town of Dengkil.
It was all well orchestrated by the members of the Red Crescent and Saint John Brigade Klang branch.
The marriage took place in the sancity of a temple before dawn had broken free, an auspicious time for the ceremony to take place; where planetary positions, stars and time were aligned harmoniously, to ensure success and prosperity.
The smooth flow of the wedding was a mark of appreciation and respect for Venuji and his son, both of whom had sacrificed much of their time in giving dedicated service for many years.
Zooming in to the domestic front, Venuji is married to Ghanambikai Kasipillai, a teacher too. She has been a pillar of strength to him all these years. They are blessed with three children, all successful in their careers.
Currently, Venuji, at 78, being bestowed the title of "Datuk" by his two grandchildren, bides his time in their company — maximum fun with zero discipline duties — a happy and contented granddad.
