Today I remember Hari

Nine years ago today, on 2nd January, Harinder Veriah, a prominent Malaysian lawyer died in Hong Kong. I met her very, very briefly, but I had come to know her more and more over these last few years. The story below appeared in the NST today.

Hari’s legacy

by Zaharah Othman

NINE years ago today, at the start of the new millennium, life for promising young Malaysian lawyer Harinder Veriah ended in Hong Kong.

Hari, as Harinder is called, had just turned 33. She left behind a 16-month-old son, a devastated husband and a legacy that touched many lives.

I went to meet her husband, journalist and writer Martin Jacques, in his apartment in northwest London, to talk about her legacy.

It had been too raw and too painful, I gathered, to talk about it when we last met four years ago. Four years on, nothing much has changed but many things have happened.


As expected, it was an intense and emotional few hours with Jacques as he relived the moments when his wife of only a few years was snatched away from him after an epileptic attack.

It was as if it was only yesterday; the pain obvious in his voice, betrayed in sentences left hanging and etched on his face as the man whose work is with words struggled to find them to express the loss that he feels every moment of his waking hours.

At times when it looked as if he could not go on, the session was salvaged by the soothing rendition of a piano piece drifting in from the living room where Ravi, now 10, was practising his music.

Ravi has unwittingly become his father’s saviour, best friend and companion — the one obvious legacy from Hari. Or in Jacques’ words, the best gift from Hari, the love of his life, the reason for his continued existence.

It was in Tioman in 1993 that Jacques met Hari, the daughter of Malaysian left-wing politician, the late Karam Singh.

It was a meeting that was to change the course of their lives, the beginning of a love story so brief yet sweet and intense.

What began on the idyllic tropical island continued in London when Hari came to join Jacques and continued her Law studies. Later, as an employee of Lovells, one of the top City law firms, they moved to Hong Kong.

It was ideal. Hari worked in its office there while Jacques worked on his book. But fate intervened just as they were celebrating the millennium. Hari was so ill that her birthday cake had to be brought in to her.

She was taken to Ruttonjee hospital where she died on Jan 2, 2000, but not before uttering words to her husband, that not only confirmed Jacques’ suspicions that she was victimised because of her skin colour, but also words that made headlines and highlighted the issue of racism in Hong Kong.

Jacques was determined to challenge the courts to establish that it was not epilepsy that killed his wife.

During the first inquest in Hong Kong, he repeated what Hari, on her deathbed told him: “I am bottom of the pile here. I am Indian. Everyone else here is Chinese.”

Hari’s case and Jacques’ crusade finally saw the introduction of anti-racism laws in Hong Kong.

“This is one legacy, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. Hari paid with her life,” said Jacques, the anger which he had tamed over the years surfacing again.

Determined not to let Hari die in vain, Jacques with a partner from Lovells, Graham Huntley, set up the Harinder Veriah Trust in 2002, which enables young Malaysian lawyers “from non-privileged backgrounds to work for two years at the London office of Lovells”.

The first recipient, Murali Ramakrishnan, started in January 2004. This year will see the third and last recipient to benefit from the Harinder Veriah Trust. A reception for the Trust was hosted by Cherie Blair at 10 Downing Street, an event which saw baju Melayu and songkok.

Closer to home and perhaps closer to Hari’s heart is the financial aid, meals, books and tuition that a group of students from Assunta Primary School Two are receiving.

What is known as HVT II started in mid-2005, where needy students, regardless of race and background, are given help for the advancement of their education.

Hari was a former student of Assunta, and helping this project is Hari’s elder sister Jasvinder Kaur and friends including Shariza Noordin.

“I think this is what Hari would have wanted: to help children regardless of race,” said Jacques.

He had just completed the book on China, whose progress was interrupted after Hari’s death.

Coincidentally, it will be launched in June at the same time when the trial on Hari’s case is supposed to start in Hong Kong.

For the past nine years since Hari’s death, Jacques’ life revolves around Ravi; overseeing his studies, piano and violin lessons and Mandarin.

All these are conducted with the presence of Hari in their everyday conversation and in every decision that they make.

And for the past nine years, since Ravi could speak, Jacques had compiled everything that Ravi had uttered about his mummy.

“There are 7,000 words which he has said about Hari,” said Jacques, who still remembers days and dates vividly.

It was a Tuesday night, when Ravi was just 16 months 10 days old, that he mustered all his courage to tell his son that his mother had died.

Ravi was hardly three years old, and sitting on the toilet seat when he remembered that he fed the ducks with his mummy.

Hari still lives in every room in their spacious apartment in Northwest London. Her pictures adorn the mantelpiece and her favourite wooden furniture stands in the living room where Ravi plays the piano.

But it is in Ravi with his mop of black hair and impish wide smile that we see the legacy of Hari.

Kak Teh also remembers Hari here:
My Diwali Story

More stories here on Harinder Veriah Trust