If I had to sum my father up, that would be it.

My father shared everything with us except his pain and the good he did for others. Those, he kept close.

After he died, I met many people who felt finally free to confess his generosity to us. When my father gave, he did so under the condition of anonymity. He did not even want the receipt for tax relief. Knowing him, to receive even the barest of whiffs of reward or recognition for charity is to mar the giving completely. For him, it was all about our intention. The only reward we were entitled to was the pleasure of giving for its own sake, no more.

While I, too, give on condition of anonymity, I want the receipt for tax relief. I pay enough to the government as it is, only to watch it embezzled. The newspapers remind us daily of this. So, any relief from having our hard earned money being pissed away is welcome. I fall short of his high standards in this regard.

There is another area where I fall short. My father gave without judging. Who are we to truly judge who was worthy of charity or not? Give to those who are in need. It is not for us to judge someone’s worthiness for charity; that is a matter for god. That was his argument and approach.

Although I understand his approach, I have great difficulty practising it – giving without judging. Maybe I am still ‘young’. But I cannot yet transcend my painful experience from practice. I cannot give to those who have reliably proven themselves to be unworthy of anyone’s charity in my time with them. Through my cases, I discovered that just because a person needs help does not mean they are deserving or worthy of it.

While I agree that judging another’s worthiness is beyond my purview, I think my limited, potentially flawed judgment is sufficient to decide whether I want to use my time and resources to help another. But having said that, I will not be surprised if, in time, I come to grow into his view, relinquishing my own, despite my present resistance. I have often found this to be the case.

Recently, I came across an exchange of correspondence while trawling through my father’s papers. It exemplifies the way he dealt with attribution relating to recognition and reward that I want to share, especially given our intensely self-laudatory times.

It relates to a message that my father’s batch (1964) from the Royal Military College wanted to send to the students in 2057. He was given a draft to comment on by Mr Rajaram C Naidu.

On 21 November 2007 he responded as follows:

“Hi Rajaram,

“Frankly I’m not sure what’s expected of me to comment on the draft message or make my own message!

“If it is my own message it would be as follows:

“I hope the Royal Military College of 2057 will have found its way back to the vision of its Founder and its mission as set out in its original Charter. Above all that its putras are representative of the multiracial, multireligious, multicultural and geographically diverse country that is Malaysia; that all who pass through its portal will be Malaysians first to lead the country with honesty and integrity towards nationhood.”

“If it is to comment on the draft message I would say it should try to capture that message.

“Trust it is of some use.”

Mr Rajaram wrote back that evening to thank my father for his suggestion and asked: In the event that we use it, can we have your premission to give your by-line?

My father responded as follows:

“Hi OP Rajaram,

“I would like to believe that it’s what a majority of us feel and want for the College that cradled us in our teens. If I’m right then it should be anonymous. If I’m wrong then I have no difficulty in owning it.”

We can do good noisily.

We can do good quietly.

However, the highest good is one done anonymously, without expectation of reward or recognition. That takes great courage and immense humility.

These are things that are easier said than done.