An Open Letter: Your Children’s Father Is a Hero

Dearest Mrs M. Sivabalan,

You do not know me. But it is with the deepest sorrow that I express my condolences to you and your family over the loss of your amazing, inspiring husband, Siva.

Your husband was not famous, and he was hardly in the spotlight very much. Few Malaysians would know him as the founding member of the Agathians Shelter in Petaling Jaya. But I have spent the last few hours in tears remembering him, and I wanted you to know the effect your husband had on people, and on me.

I wish to write to you to tell you that among all the talented friends, passionate activists, powerful politicians and inspiring people in Malaysia I have known over the years as a former journalist, none of them hold a candle to your husband.

I first met your husband around seven years ago, when I visited the Agathians Shelter. This was the orphanage’s first home - the tiny house in Seksyen 8, way before the roomier, more comfortable house the children now live in.

Siva, always bright-eyed and full of smiles, told me about the ins and outs of the orphanage. How they were taking care of over 30 kids, how they struggled over the years, and how they were raising funds for a new home - that new home, which is now a great testament to how hard your husband worked over the years.

I remember many of the things he said to me at the time, because they moved me enough for me to pen down in my journal.

He told me how he had just been a normal volunteer for a previous home which housed around 10 of these kids. “The owners committed many abuses, and made some of the kids go out to work. When the police closed them down, the regular volunteers banded together to fend for the kids,” he said at our first meeting.

He patiently endured my barrage of questions over subsequent meetings. The kids would always be playing joyfully in the background. Sometimes they would burst out into dance, and Siva would look at them with pride.

One day, I finally asked your husband his age. When he told me his age, my jaw dropped in excitement because we were both 1978 babies. We also compared schooling stories – “I’m from Sri Aman (High School)” “Oh, I’m a Johannian!” We traded stories. Suddenly, I felt even closer to him – we were peers. But he put me to shame on so many levels; so selfless, so hardworking, and so cheerfully smiley.

As he was a perennial fixture at the house every time I stopped by, I also had to ask: "But ... what do you do actually? I mean, your actual job?” He laughed and said he was an accountant with a private firm. He was a busy man indeed. “There are 3 permanent staff for the shelter but there is usually a person from the Agathians founding committee here," he said.

Over the years I came to realise that Siva was that person who was always there. He held everything together, and when he eventually became a father to your two children, I would say to him: “You are a father to so, so many children, Siva, and some people can hardly take care of themselves.”

I was to have many more meetings with him over the years, and whether it was about fundraising projects I helped with or chatting about this boy -“He is so bright, we must find something for him!” or that boy – “We had some serious conversations about his behaviour”, Siva always had time to talk about the children he felt responsible for.

The last time I saw Siva was on January 2. It hurts to think that it was so recent. I was with my project partner, Hardesh, and the three of us had a long leisurely chat about things we talked about often – the children, their education, and the difficulties some of the orphans faced. As usual, Siva was passionate about the issues and had so many things to say.

We have tried and tried to get Identification Cards for the kids who were abandoned by their parents a long time ago, but we have been told ‘No’ so many times. How will these children go to school or find jobs?

Can you please help us publicise this fundraiser we are organising? We have no patrons, no religious bodies backing us up, so we always have to fundraise for our operating costs.

Vocational school is good for them, but some of the boys may be able to do other things if they had the opportunity. Let us figure something out together!

Your husband would apologise when he felt he was talking too long. Can you imagine that? People with far less meaningful subjects have gone on for far longer, and in the public eye, no less.

Many people are motivated by money, fame or power, or perhaps the need to be heard, the need to prove something to themselves or the world. Your husband was motivated by the need to serve others. He could have had a cushier life, concentrating on his accounting profession, and perhaps, delegating the harder stuff to others.

My last correspondence with your husband was a recent email about the Larian Gegar fundraising run. He was indefatigable. The children of the Agathians Shelter have lost their guiding light, fighter, and father figure.

Your husband has been the biggest influence, and the most real inspiration of my life.

It has been a great honour knowing your husband. One day I hope your children will understand just what a hero he was, and how they can hold their head up high and say: “That was my father. He had an effect on people. He was truly amazing.”

For more information about the Agathians Shelter, the Larian Gegar fundraising run, or future projects to support the shelter, please telephone: 03-7954 1680 or e-mail the writer at laych@foster.my.