Datuk V.L. Kandan: An educator to the very end [WATCH]

ON the morning of Sept 15, the ping of my mobile phone startled me awake as I tried to drift back to sleep after Subuh prayers. The message simply read: "Dear Zaharah, it is 6am in London now. But then, you Muslims are early birds! I haven't spoken with you in ages. May I call now? Kandan."

"Caaaan!" I replied, only to regret my informality almost immediately.

When you are communicating with Datuk V.L. Kandan, a product of the Kirkby Malayan Teachers' Training College (MTTC), an educator, a veteran lawyer, and much more, you do not take liberties with your spelling.

There was no time for a mental slap on the wrist. My phone sprang to life again, and I was delighted to hear his voice on the other end of the line; cheerful, though punctuated by bouts of coughing during our seven-minute conversation.

"I am 89, Zaharah, and I have been poorly," he said, explaining the coughs.

After promising to share more stories, we said our goodbyes. It was the last call I would receive from Kandan. It was to be his last call to anyone.

Six days later, I received another WhatsApp message from his number. It was from his daughter, Shakuntala, informing me that her father had died at 2pm on the same day he had called me, barely 40 minutes after our conversation ended.

I was shocked beyond words.

The educator in him remained present until his very last breath. He had wanted to tell me how proud he was of his grandnephew's academic achievements, and he wanted to speak about the importance of education in shaping a person's life.

That final phone call, and the story he was so eager to share, was in itself a testament to what Kandan was all about: an unwavering passion for education.

Even in the final minutes of his life, he was not speaking about his own achievements, whether as a former assemblyman or as a distinguished lawyer with Shearn Delamore & Co, where he earned a reputation as a leading intellectual property practitioner.

No, he wanted to speak about a young person's educational journey, encouraging others, and reminding us of the transformative power of learning. In that sense, Kandan remained an educator to the very end.

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I had met Kandan twice, once in 2017 and again in 2019, when he and other Kirkbyites, all in their late 80s, attended their organised reunions at their alma mater in Kirkby.

Kandan was from the fifth batch of teachers despatched to Kirkby to a place he repeated and proudly announced as "the one and only teachers' training college in the world, to be set up in a foreign land, to train teachers for a country that was yet to attain independence. It was not only unprecedented, it was phenomenal!"

The first batch of 149 Malayans arrived on the Blue Funnel in 1952. Three years later, Kandan and the fifth batch arrived on the BOAC Arganout.

When I met the group at the Liverpool train station in August 2017, it was like meeting a group of schoolchildren on their first outing; excitement and nostalgia etched on their faces. Kandan and several others wore blazers proudly displaying the Kirkby training college emblem, exchanging shared experiences of yesteryear.

It was a historic gathering in Granborne Chase, the site of their alma mater, to unveil a plaque honouring the spot where, on Feb 7, 1956, Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj announced the date of the country's independence to about 300 students of the MTTC — a site in North West England that is now a piece of Malaysia's history.

Kandan and his fellow Kirkbyites were among the first to hear the historic announcement after Tunku and his delegation returned from the successful negotiations at Lancaster House.

This was a story, among others, that Kandan proudly and repeatedly narrated to his family.

"The plaque was not simply about remembering where Kirkby once stood, but about remembering what Kirkby stood for and carrying that spirit forward," said Renuka, Kandan's second daughter.

It was Renuka who took Kandan to Kirkby as his 78th birthday treat in 2015. It was during this visit that he went to a grocery store he frequented in the 1950s and found a card appealing for information on the Kirkby Teachers' Training college. Kandan then made his way to the Knowsley Resource Centre —and the rest is history.

"I think my father's lifelong commitment to education can be traced back to his beginnings as a teacher. Although he eventually left the classroom to pursue a career in law, I don't think he ever stopped thinking of himself as an educator.

"Kirkby and his early teaching years instilled in him a belief that education was one of the most powerful ways of changing a young person's life and, through them, the future of the country," said Renuka, who now lives in Brighton.

Among the tributes for the late Kandan was a story from someone whose life was significantly impacted by his passion for education. Sumiita Devi Panirselvan, a former student of SJKT Ladang Raja Musa, Kuala Selangor, had scored 7A's in her UPSR examination, making her the first student in her school to achieve that milestone.

In a touching tribute, she wrote about Kandan's visit to the estate.

"He made a solemn promise to support any student from SJKT Ladang Raja Musa who achieved outstanding results, and he kept that promise.

"For a child growing up in Raja Musa Estate, meeting a leader of his stature was a profound and unforgettable moment.

"His visit did more than simply celebrate my academic achievement; it gave me a new sense of confidence and instilled in me a lasting determination to excel in my higher education", wrote Sumiita, an engineering geologist.

Kandan's impact, she said, extended far beyond her own life.

"His presence and financial support inspired the entire community, proving to the children of the estate that their dreams were within reach. He passionately believed that the younger generation could uplift themselves and transform their lives through education."

I wish Kandan had shared this story with me, but the man hailed as a gentle giant wasn't one to speak about his achievements.

"Serendipity" was one of his favourite words, Renuka recalled.

Indeed, his discovery of that small postcard in a village grocery store window, which eventually brought him and his fellow Kirkbyites back to the place he called his Camelot, seemed an act of serendipity.

So too, perhaps, was the final phone call he made to me that morning, a last conversation that perfectly reflected the values by which he lived: education, encouragement and hope for the next generation.