When riots broke out on May 13, 1969, I was a first-year student at the Universiti Malaya (UM) First Residential College. Ushered to then University Hospital and directed to donate blood, I realised for the first time that I'm an Indian and not really a Malaysian first - at least in terms of how others identify me. How sad.

While I grew up in Kampung Raja, Sungai Petani, and later attended the Royal Military College (RMC) from 1965-68, none of us felt or was treated like we were anything other than Malaysians first.

I regularly played sepak takraw in the kampong nearby, although we lived in brick houses in a newer development. At RMC, sure, we were served chapatti while Malays and Chinese were not; but we dismissed it as the cultural appetite for food.

Hindus were given transport to the temple on Friday nights and Christians to church on Sunday. But, did it matter? Many Malays even sneaked into the trucks for a free night or day out and it was all registered as simply beating the system.