I was in Lower Six in 1962 when this towering boy from Kodiang, Kedah, joined the class in the dying days of the first term. He was quite an intimidating figure and, to add to the menace, hardly ever opened his mouth. Except to eat.

I've still to penetrate the mystery of how we ever struck up a bond of friendship. It could have been the love we shared for rugby. But then Ahmad Haji Othman also forged ties with Richard Au, who was decidedly, not the sportsman type.

All three of us became near inseparable friends in the two years we were in school. However, Ahmad and I were together more often than with Richard from Sungai Petani. The reason was simple.

Richard was putting up with distant relatives in the heart of George Town while we were living about 20 minutes away by bicycle from each other.

On weekends, when there was no rugger practice, Ahmad would cycle to my house in Green Lane in the evening and both of us would be off to Gurney Drive to enjoy the sea air and his Players cigarettes.

Sentimental streak

We would talk about the top hits of the day and would exchange notes on girls. Sometimes for long stretches we would sit in companionable silence, just listening to the sea and the breeze rustling through the casuarina trees. The restless world of teenagers at peace.

At the end of the following year when students were left alone to mug for our final exams, both of us used to sneak off with our books to St George's Anglican Church in Farquhar Street to a dome-shaped structure there.

On the eve of the final papers, Ahmad showed a sentimental streak behind the stone-faced facade. Well, not really. He did have a wry sense of humour and when he did smile, the stiffness would dissolve and his whole face would light up.

He, quite bashfully, asked me if I would like to join him in writing on the wall that both of us had been there on such and such a date. I was taken aback but readily agreed.

All too soon school life was over and most of my classmates left for further studies to University Malaya or other local institutions of higher education or abroad.

Because I was a smart mouth, as one teacher put it, half the time I was in trouble with the school authorities and the other half trying to get out, I failed.

And because of my smart mouth, I landed job as a cadet reporter which saw me in Kuala Lumpur within two years. And there Ahmad and I met again quite frequently at the university campus which I haunted in my hunt for stories for the newspaper I worked for.

Covering the Education Minister

As the years rolled on all of us lost touch with each other, going our separate ways and separate careers and destinies.

A confluence of events conspired to make the 70s, a defining decade for me. And it included meeting Ahmad and Richard again on two separate occasions and at different locations.

In 1975, I was stationed in Alor Star for a month, standing in for the correspondent who had gone on leave.

One day the Education Minister came to Kedah on an official visit which took in a school in Kodiang. The school's population had gathered at the field and I found a strategic spot where I could see Mahathir Mohamad clearly.

Then, I looked up and there was Ahmad. His smile came on and then retreated like a tortoise withdrawing into its shell.

He nodded and said:"How?

"Fine and you?

"Okay. Married or not?

"No. You?

"Yes."

Before we could continue, Mahathir started on his speech. Since I had a deadline to catch, I had to leave before I could get down to really talking to Ahmad.

One regret

On the way back to the office, I recollected the old days. There was one regret. That I had never really seriously taken up my classmate's invitation to his Kodiang home and participate in the rice harvesting. That would have been an experience to cherish.

I had never said yes or no. Just left it hanging in the air. The reluctance on my part could have been due to a fear of venturing into the unknown. My parents wouldn't have objected because my mother grew quite fond of Ahmad.

But I never consulted them, just pushed the matter to the back of my mind.

In the same decade, I was rushing to catch the train to K. when I unexpectedly ran into Richard. Both of us stopped, shook hands.

"Going back to work?" he asked.

"Yes.

"Married?

"No. You?

"Yes."

The whistle blew and with a final handshake, we parted. Richard was the one who introduced 'The Beatles' to me whose spell has never really left me. Whenever I hear the strains of any Beatles song, a lump rises in my throat.

On at least two occasions I had cycled to his house in Sungai Petani from the island. His mother made a great Penang laksa.

Racial divide

That was the last time I saw any of them. But they are among so many other friends of different races who had played a part in the moulding of my character, aside from my parents.

The best part of the story is that the friendships bloomed naturally, a most wondrous miracle. Untainted by any racial sentiment. The little tiffs that I had with them all buried quickly by the sheer joy that friendship brought.

The teen years are when such bonds are necessary when the struggle to shed childhood and cross over to adulthood becomes most painful. You can talk to friends the way one cannot to parents.

Now, after 43 years of independence, the racial divide has become worse than before. What a bloody shame.

Whatever happened to the original slogan that was born together with the nation - 'Unity in Diversity'?

Politicians did it in and the slogan and its substance died from lack of nourishment from the people.

Appealing to the tribal instinct is the easiest way of rousing up a people. If you want to sway people to your way of thinking, stirring up chauvinistic feelings is just the ticket for the job.

Exploiting base sentiments to prop up power, to my mind, is a sign of political bankruptcy.

In this respect, who among those in power can step forward and claim he or she can be a role model for the youth of the country over whom a lot of tears are being shed.

Kompangs, gongs and mirridangums

The question is relevant because there is much agonising over racial polarisation in public universities now without any serious attempt at a solution. This particular social ill was born out of the politics of this country which accentuates racial differences as a matter of course.

The issue is nothing new.

In the 80s, then deputy prime minister Musa Hitam mentioned the unmentionable as existing in University Malaya.

Everybody and his uncle threw up their hands in horror. Kampongs, gongs and miridangums were beaten with great enthusiasm on the topic throughout the land. And, as is the way of things in this country, the subject quietly lay down and died. Patiently waiting to be resurrected.

This attitude, part of our culture, is beautifully captured by the Malay expression "belakang kira".

Admittedly, the issue has deep roots. Especially when racial poison is poured into young minds as they are growing

That's why one should be struck with wonder that the different ethnic groups can get along with tolerable amicability even as politicians keep stirring the pot to keep them apart.

The foundation already exists to build upon if only politicians will leave well alone. They won't because their future and survival will come under threat.

The different ethnic groups do work together. They forge friendships. They intermarry. All flying in the face of politicians' cynical manipulations of racial sentiments.

Lip service

On a person to person basis, especially when team work is involved with a common objective, racial prejudices tend to dissolve into the background.

But once the racial preference is exercised over merit, resentment is bound to arise, because it promotes inefficiency and complacency.

Of course, the hallow show of racial superiority to hide low self-esteem exists. This can only evaporate when self-confidence is nurtured and the crutches taken away.

But if politicians can abandon their lip service to racial integration and show in concrete terms that they are sincere, there'll be some hope of confining the thorny long-standing problem to history.

But the way our politicians are moulded with political expediency turned into a fine art, the goal might take another 43 years to achieve, if at all.

The impetus for the crucial change must come from the middle-class which comprises all races now. These are the people who hold the future in their hands. They have to search for common ground in the differences that seem to separate them.

A pipe dream?

Attempts must be made to bring back the spirit of 'Unity in Diversity'. This time with full understanding that this is where our strength as a nation lies. That spirit must also include that of compromise and tolerance which appears to be a one-way street now.

All of us must feel in our bones that were are citizens of the country without any group feeling that its existence is merely tolerated. Only when we reach that target will this nation tap the full potential that has been waiting so long to find expression.

Perhaps I'm lost in a pleasant pipe dream. I need to because of the mean-spiritedness that lies heavy on the entire land.

Ahmad and Richard must be grandfathers by now. I'm wondering how their children and grandchildren are getting along with their neighbours in whatever place they call home.

By the way, soon after I started working, I made a special attempt to visit the dome-shaped structure in the forlorn hope that the graffiti Ahmad and I had scribbled on the wall would still be intact.

It had been buried under several layers of white-wash.

K SUGU began his journalistic career in 1964 and has worked in the New Straits Times , The Star , the National Echo and The Sun . He became a Buddhist monk in 1981 and had his first taste of press freedom when he worked in Bangkok for The Nation. He is now retired and spends his time writing and trying to get a handle on the fleeting nature of life.