The one who refuses to fade

“Scary isn’t it? One minute, you’ re revelling in all that pomp and pageantry and then suddenly, zilch.”

Although it was a remark made in jest, the prospect of facing such a situation had obviously sent a chill down his spine as the politician squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

And as if to distract himself from such a ghastly premonition, he reached for his coffee, never mind that it was piping hot, and took a gulp. His eyes registered alarm as the simmering dark liquid made its way down his throat, and he stuck out his tongue to let the cool air salve the stung muscle.

This is why we need the rehabilitation centre, he continued when his tongue returned to its normal temperature, mustering a nervous smile in between his words.

The topic was about political casualties, leaders who suddenly found themselves cast out from the corridors of power onto the streets.

So the politician had joked about the need for a rehabilitation centre exclusively for politicians whose careers meet a premature end.

These people, he said, should be psychologically re-programmed to lead ordinary lives and for those who were once at the peak, the rehabilitation must also include lessons on dealing with the stress of being stuck in traffic jams with no police outriders.

Humour aside. From a politician’s perspective, especially those from Barisan Nasional, who had frolicked in the spoils of being part of the ruling government for decades, this prospect would be nothing short of daunting. And in the 2008 election, many experienced it first hand.

No ordinary feat

As the Election Commission’s solemn-faced officers announced results after results, official cars, perks, power and respect started to vanish . Also disappearing were the retinue of apple polishers who once trailed behind, closer than their shadows. In a blink of an eye, these politicians were reduced from heroes to zeros.

But there was one man, who had refused to die with his career and fade into oblivion.

He was not voted out, but booted out, and that too in the most unceremonious manner. But like a phoenix, which rises from its ashes, he emerged stronger and rattled his adversaries to the core. Till this day, he remains a force to be reckoned with.

Anwar Ibrahim’s mental fortitude is definitely worthy of admiration – from deputy prime minister to prisoner, he managed to overcome all the odds designed to pin him down. From being a leader on this side of the political fence to becoming a leader on the other side of the fence, is no ordinary feat.

During that fateful month of September in 1998 when Anwar was given the marching orders, many political pundits believed that his political career had been laid to rest. It was the tragic case of a man in a rush, who underestimated his mentor, and now had to deal with the fact that he would never become prime minister.

On the night of his sacking, Anwar arrived fashionably late for the Umno supreme council meeting, which had convened to decide the fate of its deputy president and quipped to journalists that he was caught in a traffic snarl since he no longer had police outriders.

Hours later, he emerged from the iconic building and addressed his supporters. Standing on a plastic chair, he bellowed: “They asked me to resign but I refused. If I am to go down, I will go down fighting like a warrior.”

Anwar left after uttering those words but not before sending his supporters into a frenzy and ushering the birth of a powerful force, which would eventually be named as “Reformasi”. What happened next, in the absence of the alternative media then, did not make the news here.