HE is the only prime minister I have ever shaken hands with.

It was 2004, and I was a young lecturer – ambitious, uncertain and just beginning to find my footing in academia.

I had volunteered to help organise an international conference, more for the experience than anything else. On the day of the opening ceremony, as the guest of honour arrived, there he was: Malaysia’s fifth prime minister, Tun Abdullah Ahmad Badawi.

He stepped out of the car with a calm presence, gentle smile and the kind of warmth that did not require speeches or slogans. And then, quite unceremoniously, we shook hands.

It was just a brief moment – polite and formal, as expected in these events. But as news of his passing filled my screen, that memory surfaced with unexpected weight. I found myself returning to that simple gesture and the quiet man behind it.

Tun Abdullah Badawi, or Pak Lah as many affectionately called him, was never the loudest voice in the room. In a political landscape often driven by volume and bravado, he offered a different kind of leadership – thoughtful, measured and soft-spoken.

Some may see this as weakness but I have come to believe that his quietness was his strength. It allowed space – for listening, for reflecting, for sincerity.

Looking back, I think that handshake stayed with me not because it was with a prime minister but because it marked the first time I met someone who embodied a value
I had come to hold close: to be of benefit to others.

Prophet Muhammad (Peace be Upon Him) once said: “The best of people are those
who bring the most benefit to others” (Sahih al-Bukhari). Pak Lah, in many ways, exemplified this.

His tenure as prime minister may not have been the most dramatic but it was defined by a sincere attempt to build, nurture and serve – not for personal glory but for the good of others.

I did not fully appreciate it then. At that time, I was more interested in papers, presentations and figuring out where the coffee breaks were.

However, over the years, that moment kept coming back to me, especially during moments of doubt. Am I doing enough? Is my work meaningful? Does any of this matter?

Somehow, the answer kept circling back to that same idea: do good work and use it to do good for others. It does not have to be big or heroic. You do not have to be a prime minister to lead or a professor to inspire. You just need to pick a vocation, strive to be your best at it and ask: Who am I helping with this?

That spirit – of quiet service, of purpose rooted in benefit – seems to resonate even more in moments like these.

When someone like Pak Lah leaves us, we remember not just their positions but their posture; not just their achievements but their attitude. His kindness, his humility and his willingness to serve without needing the spotlight – those are the things that remain.

Perhaps that is the lesson I did not realise I had learned from our brief encounter – that being someone of benefit does not always come with applause or headlines but often it is quiet. It is in the background. It is in the decision to lead with integrity even when it is unpopular. It is in showing up, doing the work and going home with a clear conscience. It is in the handshake, not the speech.

I am not saying Pak Lah was perfect – no leader is but in a world often dazzled by charisma and theatrics, his calm decency was refreshing – reassuring, even. He reminded us that leadership can be gentle and that strength does not always roar.

As we offered our prayers and condolences to his family, I found myself grateful; not just for his contributions to the country but for that one small gesture – his outstretched hand to a young lecturer who did not know then how much it would come to mean.

If you are wondering how to move forward in your journey – whether in your career, relationships or just in life – perhaps the answer is this: pick something you care about, give it your best and let it be of benefit to someone else.

You never know whose life you may quietly touch or what small, unassuming moment – like a handshake – may stay with them forever.

Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering and principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya.

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