Bersama is standing down from the Negeri Sembilan election. In Johor, it lost its deposit in all 15 seats that it contested, and so, in Negeri Sembilan, it is stepping aside until it figures out how to win.
Bersama, however, was not the biggest loser in Johor. That title goes to PN, which lost its deposit in 21 of the 33 seats that it contested.
Out of those 21 PN losses, the lion's share likely belonged to Bersatu, which lost in all 16 seats that it contested.
Unlike Bersama, however, Bersatu intends to contest the Negeri Sembilan election, and this time, it intends to go at it alone, under its own banner, without the support of its coalition, PN.
For Bersatu to say that it wants to step into Negeri Sembilan by itself after the drubbing it received in Johor is like you saying you want to run a full marathon next week after passing out halfway through a 10 km run today.
It is obviously a suicide mission—which then makes me wonder: why is Muhyiddin doing whatever it is that he is doing?
When I thought about it, I think the reason is most likely because Malaysia is no country for old men.
They say that if you have lived your life well, you only need one life.
As you grow old and you see Death approach, you will not feel like you miss Life. Instead, as how you can easily say no to a good meal, when your stomach is full, those who have lived a good life should not find it hard to say goodbye to life, when Death knocks at the door.
When I look at the likes of Muhyiddin—and also Mahathir —I am beginning to suspect that ours might not be good country to grow old in at all.
Rather than feeling ready to let go as you see the finish line approach, I am beginning to worry that as we grow old, we will likely become so alarmed that our life is about to end, that we may resort to all sorts of desperate and incomprehensible undertakings, in order to make our lives feel worthwhile, in whatever little time we have left.
If even people like Muhyiddin and Mahathir, who have attained so much status, fame, wealth, power, and high office, are unable to feel that their lives have been worthwhile—to the point that they are thrashing relentlessly and aimlessly in the sunset of their lives—I can only imagine how much more futile old age must feel for the run-of-the-mill elderly person in our country.
Looking at how much distress our old people are facing when confronting death, rather than symphatise with them, it is actually the fate the of our young people that I truly find worrying.
A country where old men are afraid to die is one where young people will find hard to live.
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