I WAS saddened this morning to hear of the passing of Tun Dr Siti Hasmah Mohamad Ali.
And I want to say something at the outset.
My views of Siti Hasmah have always been very different from my views of her husband.
But today is not about Tun Mahathir. It is about her.
Because Siti Hasmah deserves to be remembered not simply as the wife of one of Malaysia’s longest-serving Prime Ministers, but as an extraordinary Malaysian in her own right.
I knew her when I was a young child and watched and experienced her as an adult.
And what I remember most is not the title, the protocol or the politics.
I remember the warmth.
There are people who enter a room and make sure you know who they are.
And then some people enter a room and make you feel that you matter.
She was one of those people.
She was kind. She was open. She had tremendous empathy. And there was a gentleness about her which, remarkably, never made her seem weak.
Quite the opposite.
Perhaps I understood that strength because I had seen it in my own mother.
My late mother, Puan Sri Sukumari Sekhar, belonged to that remarkable generation of Malaysian women who helped build institutions such as the National Council of Women’s Organisations and fought, often without fanfare, for women, children and those whom society too easily forgot.
Siti Hasmah inhabited that same world of service.
Medicine. Maternal and child health. Women. Families. Drug-abuse prevention. People with disabilities. The vulnerable.
Long before Malaysia knew her as a First Lady, she was Dr Siti Hasmah.
A doctor at a time when being a woman in medicine was itself rare and unusual. A pioneer in maternal and child health. A woman who went into public service and helped improve the lives of ordinary Malaysians, particularly women and children.
And then history placed her beside one of the most consequential and controversial political figures our country has ever produced.
But she never seemed to need his shadow to make herself larger.
She had her own light. I think that is what I admired about her.
She could stand beside enormous power and somehow remain human.
Warm.
Funny.
Accessible.
Kind.
These qualities can sound small in an age when we confuse aggression with strength and noise with leadership.
They are not small.
Kindness is not weakness.
Empathy is not softness.
And dignity does not require a microphone.
When I think of Siti Hasmah today, I also find myself thinking about my mother and that extraordinary generation of Malaysian women.
Women of different races and religions who simply got on with building a country.
They did not need hashtags to believe in women’s empowerment.
They lived it.
They did not constantly speak about diversity.
They were diversity.
They did not have to announce their compassion.
They practised it.
And perhaps there is something Malaysia can learn from them again.
We have become very good at shouting at one another.
Very good at finding reasons to divide ourselves.
Very good at mistaking anger for courage.
Siti Hasmah represented something gentler.
But no less powerful.
The Malaysia I still believe in.
A Malaysia where our humanity comes before our politics. Where disagreement does not require hatred. Where strength and compassion can inhabit the same person. And where service is ultimately measured not by the positions we held, but by the people whose lives were a little better because we were here.
So today I remember the woman I knew as a child and the leader I saw as an adult.
The smile.
The warmth.
The kindness.
And that extraordinary ability to make people feel comfortable in her presence.
Malaysia has had First Ladies. But in my view, Siti Hasmah was one of the truly great ones.
Not because of the man she married.
Not because of the office he occupied.
But because of the woman she chose to be.
A doctor.
A pioneer.
A mother.
A woman of grace and enormous humanity.
And above all, a Malaysian who served.
Farewell, Aunty Siti.
Thank you for the kindness I remember from my childhood.
Thank you for the warmth you showed.
Thank you for your service to our country.
And thank you for reminding us of something increasingly precious:
You do not have to be loud to be strong.
You do not have to be powerful to make a difference.
And you do not have to stand in anyone’s shadow when you carry your own light.
Rest in peace, Tun.
You lived beside history, and you made history.
May Allah Subhanahu wa'tala welcome you home to his warm and eternal embrace.
You leave behind a legacy that is entirely your own. And this nation will deeply miss your presence. - September 28, 2026
Datuk Dr Vinod Sekhar is the publisher of The Vibes and Chairman of the Petra Group
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