Cherishing moments that matter

MY HEART sank when fellow journalist Predeep Nambiar texted me: “Bro, I’m sure you’ve already heard. He’s terminally ill.”

Predeep was sharing the heartbreaking news about former New Straits Times’ Penang/ Kedah bureau chief Noor Adzman Baharuddin, who was battling liver cancer at a private hospital then.

“I remember him saying really nice things about you,” Predeep texted, a sentiment that struck a deep chord in me.

That was in February this year. And despite the hope and prayers, Noor Adzman — affectionately known as Cikgu Man — did not make it. He was 64.

Cikgu Man left behind not just a legacy in journalism, but also a profound impact on all who had the privilege of working alongside him.

He gave me the much-needed breakthrough after my graduation in 2004, bringing me into the fold when I was unsure of where my path would lead.

He would ask us juniors to sit next to him while he cleared our copies, checking each sentence with a keen eye while happily puffing away on a cigarette (it was fine to smoke in offices then).

Sometimes, he took us out for tea by the roadside in Jones Road.

It was during those afternoons that Cikgu Man opened up, speaking with humility about the challenges he faced when he first started out.

Not long after, he was transferred to Alor Setar, marking a new chapter in his career. I, too, took a step forward in mine.

I was fortunate to secure a permanent position in The Star, a milestone that was both exciting and humbling.

In 2012, both of us were sent to cover the bombing of the basement carpark of Lee Gardens Plaza Hotel in Hat Yai that killed two Malaysians and injured 27.

As the senior, Cikgu Man shared all his insights and key points on one particular story.

To me, it was not just sharing information. It was a moment of mentorship that I will always remember.

Cikgu Man had this rare gift of playfully poking fun without ever making you feel embarrassed.

His teasing, often laced with a few Hokkien words, was always light-hearted and delivered with a warm smile that instantly put you at ease.

That kind of teasing, done with warmth and care, is one of the things that made him so unforgettable.

But he was not the only mentor I lost this year.

In August, former Star Media Group’s executive editor Rozaid Abdul Rahman passed away from heart complications. He was 59 and also served as the Prime Minister’s media and strategic communications director.

We crossed paths in 2018, when Rozaid oversaw operations of the content department in Penang.

A man of few words, or perhaps more accurately, a keen listener, Rozaid had this ability to be present without dominating the conversation.

He was always there when you needed advice, offering the right words at the right time without being overbearing.

His guidance was thoughtful, and never delivered with any sense of superiority.

He knew how to empower others, trusting them to make their own decisions while quietly offering his support when needed.

Despite his high standing in the industry, Rozaid remained humble and down-to-earth.

I will never forget the message he sent when he left us to become the chief editor of Sinar Harian in 2020. It was simple, yet deeply heartfelt. The message read:

“Penang was one of the best teams I’ve ever worked with. Sin Chow, please take care of yourself and your family, especially the kids. If there is anything you are unsure of, do not hesitate to call or WhatsApp me. I’m always here for you guys.”

Those words spoke volumes about Rozaid’s genuine care and respect for the people he worked with.

He left behind a legacy of loyalty, support and camaraderie.

And finally, just last month, veteran photographer Chuah Yew Khoon, renowned for capturing historic moments throughout his nearly 30-year tenure in The Star, passed away peacefully at the age of 81.

I vividly remember his distinctive presence — riding a motorcycle to work, with a backpack laden with heavy camera equipment, always prepared for whatever the day might bring.He often stood with his arms crossed in that familiar, contemplative manner, a testament to his commitment to his craft.

Uncle Chuah retired from The Star in 2005 and went on to work with Kwong Wah Yit Poh until 2011.

His career was marked by accolades, including winning the Malaysian Press Institute Award in the photo category in 1986.

In 2013, he was honoured with the Datuk Lam Wu Chong Journalist Service Award during the 11th Tan Sri Lim Gait Tong Annual Journalism Awards.

During a gathering of former The Star colleagues in June this year, he spoke with the same enthusiasm about the industry that had defined his career.

When we talked, he took a genuine interest in the latest developments at the Penang Press Club, showing how much he still cared about the community and the future of journalism.

If there is one common thread running through all my conversations with them, it is the understanding that the path to success is never a straight line.

Instead, it is a winding journey, full of bumps, missteps and detours.

It is a reminder that the road to success is rarely predictable, and it is the ability to adapt and persevere that truly defines one’s journey.

As the year draws to a close, I, like many others, find myself entering a season of reflection.

It is time to pause, take stock and cherish the moments that matter most.

Amid all the busyness, carve out time for your loved ones.

In a world that constantly demands our attention, nothing is more precious than the time we spend with the people who make life truly meaningful.