Aida's Graduation Day

Today is Aida's graduation day.

I've been looking forward to this day since September 2018 when she came to England to study at University of Bristol. No, it's way earlier. I've been looking forward to this day since 22 December 1995, the day she  was born. I quietly prayed that God would bless her with strength, patience and humility to learn, achieve and give.

Three of us, Aida, her mom and I, are right here now in breezy Bristol. Spring is around the corner but now it's winter. Winter is what winter does. It breaks and bites. I can't breathe in 22°C,  it's 8°C  now, maybe colder. But I wouldn't want to miss this day for the world.

The graduation ceremony will begin at 10.30, in the Great Hall of Wills Memorial Building. This iconic and heritage face of the city and University of Bristol is an easy choice for today's auspicious gathering. The lavish architecture and rich ornamentation is a celebration in itself and a fitting homage to the energy and ambition of the graduating students.

This is my second time attending a graduation in England. My first was in 2017, when Aida's eldest brother surprised all his friends by actually graduating from Imperial College. Hosted at the world-famous Royal Albert Hall, the event was packed with  pomp and pageantry. I can still describe it in fine detail today.

Aida is already in the hall, leaving us standing in line outside Wills Memorial, eager and all fired up with anticipation, together with other families from far and wide and China who are also eager and fired up with anticipation. I've no idea how much longer we have to stand and wait in this treacherous weather before we're allowed into the building. I'm deeply worried. If this wait-in-wet goes on for another half an hour, my wife's arthritic knees will cave in and collapse.

Looking around, I'm beginning to question our sartorial selection. Unlike Malay weddings, this English occasion has no dress code, leaving me all at sea as to what not to wear. I was toying with the violent and offbeat idea of a baju melayu ensemble when it dawned on me that this is winter. After some serious contemplation, I finally settled for a pedestrian choice: my old, overused blazer (circa 1995), without a tie, but with my prized songkok bought at Tanah Abang.

Aida's mom, who'd been planning for this day the day after Aida was born, was all regal and resplendent in her Rizalman number. Ha ha ha,  actually it's a dark baju kurung tailored by Miran, our neighbour. Like Rizalman, Miran is a bachelor, in case you're interested. The crowd may easily mistake us for an Indonesian or Indian couple. I'm fine with that as long as I can get into the building now, please, I'm shaking all over.

The elderly British couple behind us, calculating my height and deciding that I was neither British nor half-British, broke the ice, enquiring where we're actually from. Ah, Malaysia ! I noticed the soft gasp of excitement. Clearly they've already had some idea of where, and what, is Malaysia. We should all thank Jho Low for this. Maybe it's pure public relations but the cute couple confessed of their desire to see Malaysia in the flesh one day. I can see that they're well into their 80's, so this conceptual "one day" had better be real soon, something like next week maybe. The sharp-dressed husband graduated from Cambridge 50 years ago and their daughter is graduating today, a PhD in something. They're here with their son-in-law and three-year old grand daughter.

Thank God, the line is finally moving now, but very slowly. Stepping into the building I can feel gusts of warm air sweeping over. Now I can breathe. We've to climb up the stairs into the Great Hall. What a splendid atmosphere, with the fine-looking audience, stage, sound and lighting all conspiring to heighten the sense of the occasion. We're seated next to the British family, and I can see the grand mother having a rough time with her grand daughter. I didn't  know we could bring grand daughters in here. We have five back home.

The ceremony is a simple and straightforward affair, but steeped in tradition. It begins with a slow procession of the university vice-chancellor and his officials in  ancient garbs and gowns and caps, heaving on their shoulders what look like swords and spears, with moody, disturbing music urging them on. I can see Aida out in front, seated together with other graduands, in her black and scarlet academic gown, but without the customary black cap or mortar board. I don't know why this old university has decided to do away with mortar boards.

I had a mortar board when I graduated from UKM forty years ago.  It was a standard graduation accessory, like exhaust pipe on a car (I can't think of a better analogy). It was also standard during my time for male university students to sport very long hair and heavy bell-bottoms. Hilarious, if you ask me now. Unlike University of Bristol, UKM's student population was 100% local, with 90% Malay and 90% of the Malay students were from Kelantan. Nobody complained.

At that time there were only four universities in Malaysia, now four hundred.  My parents came all the way from Kelantan (ha,ha) to my graduation, against my advice not to bother. Bangi was technically virgin jungle. Any university graduation was a national event, like Merdeka Day, Deepavali etc, and Radio Malaysia would air the event live, complete with a  commentator. When my name was announced, everyone in the country knew I graduated on that day. I didn't win any prize but my parents were happy enough to see me all dressed up,  complete with a mortar board.

This morning about 500 students will be conferred degrees in all sorts of studies by University of Bristol. They came from all over the world but only half are here today to receive in person. They're lining up now, waiting for their turn. One after another went up the stage to receive their degrees, and the audience diligently applauded each and every one.  Man, I'd never felt so civilized.

I'd to catch my breath when Aida's name (and my name) was called. She stepped forward and bent slightly to receive her MSc in Marketing degree from the Vice Chancellor. She came down the stage, smiled in our direction, and retreated to her seat. That's it. If all this were to happen in KL, her mom would've screamed her name, and she and the Vice Chancellor would've waved back and joined us and hugged. Malaysia is more fun, actually.

The ceremony ended with a reverse procession and an even more brooding music. Why can't they play Black Magic Woman for a change, I wonder. It's all over in about two hours. The ceremony ran like clockwork, no glitch, no gaffe, inch perfect. Oh, before I forget, the witty closing speech by that cardiologist had the audience in stitches. It was so clever and original that I felt sorry for some of you back home who'd to listen to budget speech by Lim Guan Eng.

We bumped into the British couple in the foyer outside the hall. Now it's time for jokes and parting pleasantries, you know, congratulations and well wishes and goodbyes. I invited them to Malaysia and again they gasped (ha ha ha). The grandmother touched my wife's dark lace and whispered quick compliments. I couldn't quite make out the exact words but my wife (also a grandmother) looked flustered and was lost for words. Her knees suddenly felt so much better.

This has been a truly momentous and joyous occasion for us. Aida will surely remember this for a long, long time. This is the sweet culmination and just reward for her patience and perseverance since the very first day she stepped into her undergraduate class. She's cried in despair and she's jumped with joy, I've really lost count. We can't thank God, family, friends (and Mara) enough for this gift. 

BA (Hons) First Class and MSc with Distinction. Not bad at all.