AS a mother, a human resource professional of over two decades and an Indian woman who has journeyed through corporate Malaysia and grassroots community work, I write this with a heavy heart.
The passing of Tan Sri Dr M. Thambirajah has left a void so profound, I ask myself: “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, against discrimination, against the belief that we must settle for less.
Dr Thambirajah understood this deeply and he chose not just to understand but to act. And that is the “Thambirajah Effect”.
He did not just build the Sri Murugan Centre (SMC), he built hope. He created structure, discipline, values and most importantly, belief – belief in the children who had been counted out, belief in families who had almost given up and belief in us.
I have seen it firsthand as
an HR professional, interviewing thousands of candidates.
Those who came from SMC or had been touched by his influence walked in with something different – clarity, humility and fire.
They were respectful, prepared and purpose-driven. This is no coincidence; this is his legacy in motion. 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 am 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.
Now, it is ours to carry forward. To mothers like me, educators,
HR professionals and community leaders – we owe it to him to make sure no Indian child is left behind.
To fight for access to education, not handouts, but opportunities. To teach our children not just to chase success but to understand why education matters. 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 but 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 seeing us when others looked away, for helping us where others gave up and for showing us that ideas when paired with discipline and conviction can move generations.
“You didn’t leave us in the dark; you left us in the warm, unwavering glow of your teachings. And as a mother, you have my promise that I will do my part. Your voice may be silent but your vision will still roar.
“And in every child we lift, in every mother we comfort and in every student, we see you in their success. Rest in eternal peace, our guiding star. You will never be forgotten.”
Mangalagowri Ramanathan
