They say a man’s life is written in the chapters of the people he loves.
As I reflect on my own journey, I realise that the ink of my story was provided by one extraordinary woman.
Karina Kaur – or Rina, as she is fondly known – was my anchor during storms, my compass in moments of doubt, and my North Star when I searched for direction.
In January 2027, Rina and I will celebrate our 50th golden wedding anniversary. Counting our six years of university courtship, we have walked hand-in- hand for nearly 56 years.
Yet, when friends ask how I have managed to love the exact same woman for over half a century, I always smile and ask: “Who told you I loved the same woman all these years?”
The true secret to a lasting marriage is understanding that love isn’t something you fall into just once. It is learning to fall in love, again and again, with the ever-evolving, newer versions of that very same person through the passage of time.
Looking back to our youth at Universiti Malaya, I first fell for an innocent, polite, small-town girl from Segamat, Johor. I was just a poor village boy from Air Leleh, Melaka, but we clicked effortlessly, studied side-by-side, and laid a foundation built on mutual ambition and quiet respect.
As we grew older and stepped into parenthood, my love transformed into a deeper admiration as I watched her stay up through the dark hours, gently rocking our two babies, Cheryl and Dillon, to sleep.
When life brought serious trials, her resilience became the bedrock of our household. During my doctoral studies in the United States, facing the gruelling pressure of what I called the “Mother of All Exams,” Rina insisted that failure was not an option.
She disciplined me when needed, encouraged me when I faltered, and believed in me when I doubted myself.
As the years rolled on, her selflessness only deepened. She willingly set aside her own career to accompany me to Jakarta for my post at the Asean Secretariat, all while making regular journeys back to Kuala Lumpur to ensure our university-aged children were supported.
Later, as gentle wisdom lines softened her face, she stepped naturally into the public eye beside me during my tenure as director-general of the Maritime Institute of Malaysia, offering a quiet, composed grace that read my every worry with a single glance.
They often say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and Rina has certainly kept mine anchored for decades.
To this day, nothing brings me greater warmth than coming home to the rich, comforting aromas of her legendary cooking – her rich parpu, hearty dhall, signature sambal and tender roasted ribs. Through every demanding decade, her affection was served daily across our dining table, nourishing not just my body, but my spirit.
Of course, we are not perfect human beings, and ours is by no means a fairytale without friction. Like every couple, we have had our fair share of communication problems, misunderstandings, ups and downs, and emotional highs and lows.
We have clashed, misread intentions, and felt the strain of difficult days. But the secret has never been the absence of conflict; it has been our willingness to tolerate, accommodate and compromise for one another.
Through plenty of give-and-take, we learned to give each other space to be flawed, choosing patience over pride whenever turbulence threatened to pull us apart.
Today, as senior citizens, we still walk briskly side-by-side, exchanging cerita-cerita (stories) catching up on world events, keeping busy with our two grandchildren and keeping track of doctor appointments together.
Many couples speak fearfully of the “empty nest” or worry that the original flavour of their youth will fade. But our nest has never been empty – it is filled with companionship, deep- rooted respect, shared laughter and above all, peace of mind.
If your own marriage feels like it has lost its spark, remember that love can always be revived. It begins by releasing the heavy burden of ego that we carry in our heads.
For years, I used to store good memories on a thumb drive and bad ones in my head. Once I reversed that habit – storing the grievances away and keeping the precious moments front and centre – it worked wonders.
Forgiveness frees us from the prison of bitterness and allows us to appreciate what remains rather than dwelling on what has passed.
We have made a simple, unbreakable promise to one another: we will grow old together, and which one of us is healthier will care for the other.
