That is why Indira’s struggle is also a warning: when justice moves slowly, when enforcement is half-hearted, when loopholes overshadow humanity, mothers pay the price.
I AM a mother and I know with absolute certainty that I would go to hell and back for my children. No border, no court, no institution and no man – not even the state – can stand between me and my babies. Every mother has this instinct. It is nature, not politics; love, not procedure.
That is why M. Indira Gandhi’s story sits heavily on my chest. Sixteen years – that is how long Indira has carried this pain. Her youngest daughter, Prasana Diksa, was taken when she was just a baby. Every tick of the clock since has been a reminder that this is not over.
And that is why her march to Bukit Aman last week – pushing an old stroller, holding a faded teddy bear – struck me so deeply. Those were not props; they were the symbols of a mother’s life paused, frozen at the moment her child was taken.
When I look at her fight, I don’t see a legal case; I see a mother doing what any mother would do despite the odds: refusing to let the world forget her child. And the world has tried to forget. Systems got tired, bureaucracy dragged on and public sympathy waned but mothers don’t. Indira doesn’t.
On Nov 25, the High Court issued a clear instruction: the police must expand their search nationwide for her ex-husband, Muhammad Riduan Abdullah. No more limiting it to Kelantan, no more recycled affidavits and no more excuses dressed as administrative updates. The judge plainly directed the police to search everywhere – Perak, Kedah and across all entry and exit points – because this child could be anywhere in Malaysia.
It took a mother’s persistence to force that acknowledgement. But if we are being honest, her struggle has always been heavier than the legal judgments suggest. Yes, the courts have recognised her rights. Yes, she won the legal battle over unilateral conversion. But what use is a legal victory if the system cannot deliver the only outcome that truly matters – a child returned to her mother?
In 2024, her RM100 million lawsuit against the IGP and government failed. The court said the police did try – they did “what they could”. And even while the judge admitted it was “impossible to imagine her agony”, the legal conclusion remained the same: no negligence, no bad faith and no compensation.
As a mother, that explanation feels hollow. “We tried” means nothing when your child has been missing for 16 years.
Then came the April 2024 blow: the Court of Appeal dismissed her application to cite the IGP for contempt. Why? Because there were conflicting custody orders – one from the Syariah court and one from the civil court. A technicality. A jurisdictional clash. A child caught between two legal worlds.
This is where my heart grows heavy because I know that if my child were missing, I wouldn’t care about legal boundaries and jurisdictions; I would tear them down brick by brick. This is the part of Indira’s story that Malaysians need to feel. This is not just a legal quagmire; this is a mother held hostage by the very system that is supposed to protect her.
So she marched, not for spectacle but for survival. She marched because when institutions move slowly, mothers run. She marched because silence would have buried her daughter’s name. She marched because she had no choice; her motherhood demanded movement.
And in that march, I saw every Malaysian mother’s fear reflected back at us – the fear that if something happened to our child, the system may decide that “trying” is good enough. That our grief is only administrative, not urgent. That our children can fall into cracks no one will rush to seal. And as a mother, I refuse to accept that – for my son, my daughter and for every child who depends on us to fight with every breath.
That is why Indira’s struggle is also a warning: when justice moves slowly, when enforcement is half-hearted, when loopholes overshadow humanity, mothers pay the price. But it is also a lesson: nothing – not even the full weight of the system – is heavier than a mother’s will.
The High Court’s recent order is a sign that her fight is not in vain. Finally, a judge telling the police to be proactive, a push to widen the search, a reminder that this child is not a case file; she is a person and she belongs at home. We cannot let that momentum fade – not now, not after 16 years.
To the authorities: don’t let this be another round of “we tried”. Try harder. Search wider. Act faster. A mother’s pain is not something to be managed with paperwork.
To Malaysians: do not look away, this is our problem. Our system. Our responsibility.
And to Indira: your courage is louder than the excuses thrown at you. Your motherhood is stronger than the years stolen from you. Your fight is proof that love, when tested, becomes unbreakable.
One day – and I believe this – your daughter will know the truth: her mother never stopped searching, never stopped fighting and never stopped breaking through walls built to slow her down because that is what mothers do; we go to hell and back for our children, and then we go again if we have to.
Hashini Kavishtri Kannan is the assistant news editor at theSun.
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