The Malaysian Indian dilemma

THE Universiti Malaya convocation last week was a really lively affair, if social media posts are anything to go by.

There were Indian-style flower garlands, even for Malay graduates. And an “urumi melam” troupe gave it a Thaipusam feel with vibrant music. The celebrations were loud and the joy palpable, especially among the Indian students.

But outside that campus, life is very different for many Indians. There is little of that joy.

Their numbers are dwindling alarmingly, except for those behind bars. Education – their last resort to pull themselves out of the doldrums – has become an issue, with many saying the system is skewed against minorities as a whole, and Indians in particular.

Even a conference for speakers from top Tamil schools around the country has run into a bizarre controversy.

They were banned from starting with the quintessential opening hymns – the Kadaval Vazhthu and Tamil Thai Vazhthu.

Worse, even the images of top Tamil philosopher Thiruvalluvar, the same one quoted by the Prime Minister in his Budget speech, were also barred.

The Tamil Thai Vazhthu is a homage to the Tamil language as the “mother” of the community. It shows that the Tamils take their mother tongue very seriously, almost literally. And Valluvar is revered by one and all. His statues can be found in the education institutes and museums in the United States, Germany and the United Kingdom, among others.

So, why were these barred? There has been no explanation, but after an outcry by several MPs, all in the government bloc, the Education Minister apologised and promised strict action.

It was a wonderful gesture by Fadhlina Sidek, but what exactly is the strict action she has promised? And why was there a ban in the first place? That has yet to be explained.

We do not need “haters” in the government machinery. The Indians need help, not hate.

As it is, ethnic Indians are becoming a smaller and smaller minority. The community that made up 7.3% of the population in 2010 dropped to 6.7% in 2020 and 6.6% this year, according to the Penang Hindu Association (PHA). During Merdeka in 1957, the Indians formed slightly more than 10% of the population in the peninsula.

The fertility rate is falling, too. With a birth rate of just 1.1 per couple, the Indian population could be haIved in just one generation.

With access to education being difficult and jobs hard to come by – the Malays can fall back on the civil service, which is more than 90% Malay, while the Chinese control the private sector – only the best among the Indians can make it in life.

Many are thus having fewer children in the hope of giving them the best. Unsurprisingly, it is only among the hardcore poor that larger families can be seen. There are many Indians among the hardcore poor.

Forget about having children, urban Indians are not even getting married these days. With a focus on quality over quantity, they choose to pursue their careers instead.

But there is a price to pay.

The dwindling number just means that the Indian vote will soon become inconsequential. That could lead to questions over the community’s representation in government.

Would there then be a need to even give ministerial or deputy ministerial posts to Indians? Already, Indian-centric parties are being sidelined.

The MIC was almost wiped out at the last polls, while smaller parties like IPF, PPP, Makkal Sakti, and Mira are irrelevant. One can probably add Prof P. Ramasamy’s Urimai to that list.

With little representation, Tamil schools, the centre of the community, and Hindu temples will also face uncertain fates, says PHA, which wants temples to help boost marriages and push for larger Indian families.

It’s easier said than done. For a larger family, more money is needed, and for that, better jobs and higher qualifications are important. To achieve that, one must work harder and keep the family small so that costs can be managed.

It’s a vicious circle. And that is the Indian dilemma.

While Indians make up less than 7% of the population, more than 70% of gangland members are said to be from the community. These gangs are active in schools, and it is hard for many to escape their clutches.

One person who did break out was M. Nhavin. The son of a bus station supervisor and rubber tapper, he graduated with a first-class Artificial Intelligence bachelor’s degree.

He even won the Royal Award for Education at his university in Melaka. But when on stage to receive his award, he had a sad tale to tell.

The 23-year-old spoke of his fellow Indian friend who was more brilliant than him. But the friend scored one fewer “A” than Nhavin did in the SPM.

“He was smarter, more mature, more intelligent, and much more talented than me,” said Nhavin, who was accepted into the Malaysian Matriculation Programme. His friend was not. Now, the friend is not alive.

Instead, Nhavin lamented, there were many with much poorer results who had got into the programme.

“If he had been accepted, he would be getting this award,” the young lad declared.

It was a sad indictment of our education system. If the best brains are not allowed to grow and prosper, the nation will suffer the curse of mediocrity and produce PhD holders who can’t tell a Lim from a Lee.

Nhavin, now a doctoral student in computer science at Universiti Sains Malaysia, said the quota system should be gradually reduced to make way for merit-based admission.

It’s not about racism. Even many Malay MPs and educationists believe it is time to put race out of the equation when it comes to educating our young.

It will take time, but the will needs to be there. Politicians, especially the Indian leaders, need to band together to face the problem holistically. They cannot just be representing those in their constituencies – the community is far bigger than that.

Our education system needs to help all the needy climb out of difficulty. The best brains must get their rightful place under the Malaysian sun.

Then, hopefully, they will have the wealth to raise larger families that are also of high quality.

For now, though, there is little light at the end of the tunnel. Even Nhavin, while still in love with Malaysia, says he would not rule out emigrating if things don’t change. It’s really sad.