As a mother, a human resource professional of over two decades, and an Indian woman who has journeyed through both corporate Malaysia and grassroots community work, I write this with a heart heavier than I ever imagined possible.
The passing of Tan Sri Dr M. Thambirajah (pic) has left a void so profound that I find myself asking: Who do we turn to now?
Growing up in Malaysia, especially as part of the Indian community, meant growing up hearing his name spoken with reverence, admiration and a sense of safety.
His presence was constant in books, on stages, in community halls, and most importantly, in the hearts of every parent who dreamt bigger dreams for their children.
His message was clear, unwavering and urgent: “Education is the way forward.”
For our community, education has never been a luxury. It is a battle against generational poverty, discrimination, and the belief that we must settle for less.
Thambirajah understood this deeply. But he chose not just to understand – he chose to act. And that, right there, is the “Thambirajah effect”.
It wasn’t just that he built the Sri Murugan Centre (SMC); he built hope. He created structure, discipline, values and, most importantly, belief.
Belief in children who had been counted out. Belief in families who had almost given up. Belief in us.
I’ve seen it firsthand. As an HR professional, I’ve interviewed thousands of candidates.
Those who came from SMC or had been touched by his influence walked in with something different – clarity, humility, fire.
They were respectful, prepared and purpose-driven. That’s no coincidence. That’s his legacy in motion.
But for me, this loss cuts deeper than legacy. It feels personal. In a quiet, emotional moment years ago, Prof told me, “Don’t worry, maa. He (my son) will do well. When the time comes, come and see me.”
Those words became my anchor. I held onto them through the toughest parenting moments. That promise kept me steady.
But now, that door no longer exists. That guiding light is gone and I’m frozen in time, waiting for a moment that will never come.
That promise, one I cherished with every fibre of my being, is now one I can no longer claim.
I am heartbroken yet I know, even in this grief, that his mission was never about one child, one mother or one promise.
His mission was for all of us. And now, it is ours to carry forward.
We owe it to him to make sure no Indian child is left behind and to fight for access to education – not handouts, but opportunities.
We owe it to him to teach our children not just to chase success, but also to understand why education matters – and to instil discipline, purpose and pride in the next generation, just as he did.
We must remind them that while degrees may open doors, values and vision are what keep those doors open. That respect, humility and resilience are not soft skills – they are the survival kit he gave us.
As I write this, with tears in my eyes and pride swelling in my chest, I say: Thank you, Tan Sri, for showing us that ideas, when paired with discipline and conviction, can move generations.
You didn’t leave us in the dark. Your voice may be silent but your vision still roars. You will never be forgotten.
MANGALAGOWRI RAMANATHAN
Note: A former history professor at Universiti Malaya, Thambirajah passed away on June 23. He was 84.
