I was having tea with my family at home when Prime Minister Dr Mahathir Mohamad delivered the shocker of his resignation at Umno general assembly closing speech.

This is one of the few things closest to a "political activity" that the family engages in, I'd say, with a rather surprising consistency. (Now who's to say that the makcik-makcik kampung (country aunts) like my mum are not politically conscious?)

I was in the middle of munching my second piece of corn fritters and was musing over Dr M's contribution of the Kedahan word sesah (fight) to the vocabulary of the Malay language during the speech, when Dr M, out of the blue — yes, it was completely out of the blue, as he'd been talking about the economy, the technology, "evil" PAS ulama (Islamic scholars), Employees Provident Fund and other predictable political issues until then — announced his resignation.

My reaction? Well at first, what he actually said didn't really register. He stammered a bit when he said it, and even when he completed the rather curiously structured sentence " saya ingin mengumumkan satu perletakan jawatan saya " (I wish to announce a resignation of my post), I — and from the looks of it, along with the Umno Supreme Council members on the stage behind him — hadn't actually noticed what was happening.

It took a few seconds before the weight of the announcement sank in (this was facilitated by Dr M's detailing out his resignation from the Umno and BN presidency, together with all the posts in the party), and of course by the time that happened, he had already broken down, tears were flowing down everyone's cheeks (well, at least the ones that the TV showed anyway), the delegates on the floor started shouting and singing and things began to slip out of the control of the venerated, but frail and old Sulaiman Nilam Syah, the permanent chairperson of the Umno meetings.

As Dr M was besieged by the Umno supreme council members, among whom were International Trade and Industry Minister Rafidah Aziz and Umno Youth chief Hishammuddin Hussein who were hugging him and holding his hand, persuading him to withdraw his announcement, I tried to put the event into perspective.

Being the politically cynical person that I am, not to mention my dissatisfactions with the current regime, the first thought that came to my mind was: is this another drama staged by Dr M, actor par excellence, to garner support? Did he expect the spontaneous reaction of the delegates against his resignation, and was just waiting for the right amount of time to pass before gracefully withdrawing his resignation, in answer to the call of the party and in empathy with the nation in need?

It didn't seem that anyone else even had an inkling of what was coming. The Umno supreme council members were in a state of such a complete shock and even Dr Siti Hasmah was caught with her mouth half-opened on camera.

Whatever this political episode was, whether it was genuine or just an excellent execution of a scripted plot, I couldn't run from the fact that the announcement did not only shock me, but also scared and saddened me. Yes, I have all sorts of disagreements with all sorts of Malaysian political movements out there, not the least with Umno and Mahathir, but the thought of Mahathir resigning made me feel sad and terrified.

Why? Perhaps, because throughout his 21 years in power, Mahathir, either by design or by accident, either consciously or unconsciously, had become one of the embodiments of stability in this country. He's been the PM ever since I could remember and for the first time in my life, I suddenly had this nightmarish vision of a sudden loss of equilibrium, should this constant — Mahathir — be withdrawn from the equation. And only then do I understand, why some people support Dr M, even if they do not agree with many things that he does. It's pure and simple. They are just too scared to contemplate the political situation without him.

This personal reaction — and as I later found out was also the reaction of many of my friends — reflects the fragile confidence of the public in the "succession plan" that Dr M implicitly proposes to Umno (and by extension, to the nation), but most importantly, it also reflects the level of political maturity and the health of the democratic institutions and spirit in this country.

What kind of a devilry of a subtle indoctrination has this been, that most of us have become terrified — whether consciously or unconsciously — of political change? This deep-rooted angst over a shift in the political scene, I think, is by far even more terrifying than the exodus of foreign investors, sharp crashes on the stock market and political chaos that may come to pass had Dr M actually resigned.