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By Mihar Dias July 2026
Columnists are often told not to count their readers.
Naturally, we all do.
To my pleasant surprise, the little piece about an old classmate who insisted on being addressed as "Dato'" after decades apart attracted close to 3,000 readers on the Newswav digital platform. For an article about bruised egos and inflated honorifics, that is not bad going. Apparently, I had stumbled onto a uniquely Malaysian pressure point.
What was even more interesting than the readership was the response.
The messages that arrived suggested that the story was far from unique. If anything, it appears that Malaysia has quietly nurtured an entire support group for victims of Honorific Inflation Syndrome.
The biggest surprise came from the classmate who had narrated the original incident.
Contrary to my assumption that time heals all wounds, he confessed that he had never forgotten—and never forgiven—the encounter.
Years have passed. Governments have risen and fallen. The ringgit has had more mood swings than the stock market. Yet somewhere in his memory remains frozen that unforgettable sentence:
“Sorry, you can't call me that anymore. I'm a Dato'.”
Some memories fade.
Others acquire permanent residency.
One reader wrote that he thoroughly enjoyed the article because "people change." Some become convinced that an honorific magically elevates them above friends who once called them by the nicknames they proudly answered to in school.
He then made an observation that deserves framing.
A humble professor, who earned his title through decades of scholarship and hard work, would never object if an old childhood friend simply called him “Din.”
Because closeness matters more than credentials.
Exactly.
Real achievement has very little need for announcements.
Another reader burst out laughing before recounting an almost identical story.
One member of their tight-knit circle finally received his Datukship and immediately expected his lifelong friends to address him accordingly.
The brotherhood considered the matter.
Their verdict was swift.
The newly minted Datuk slowly stopped receiving invitations for teh tarik.
No disciplinary committee.
No official boycott.
No press conference.
Just one less plastic chair reserved at the mamak.
It is perhaps the most Malaysian form of social correction ever invented.
Another correspondent was even less diplomatic.
He remarked that throughout his career he had dealt with Tan Sris and Datuk Seris who never once insisted on being addressed by their titles. His colourful conclusion was that anyone who demands it should “shove his title where the sun doesn't shine.”
I shall leave his suggested storage location to the reader's imagination.
But his point is valid.
The people most comfortable with success are often the least interested in advertising it.
The insecure, meanwhile, carry their titles the way toddlers carry new toys—showing them to everyone in sight.
There is a delicious irony here.
The article was never intended to ridicule honorifics.
Properly bestowed, they recognise service, achievement and contribution.
The satire was aimed at something entirely different.
It was about the moment when a title stops being a recognition and starts becoming a personality.
When "Dato'" ceases to be an honour and becomes a full-time occupation.
Old school friendships are among life's greatest levellers.
They remember you before promotions, before golf club memberships, before official cars and before your name required two lines on a business card.
To them, you remain the fellow who copied homework, skipped assembly or nervously waited outside the principal's office.
No royal warrant can erase those memories.
Perhaps that explains why more than 3,000 Newswav readers found themselves smiling in recognition.
Many were not reading about one Dato'.
They were remembering one of their own.
The final lesson remains wonderfully simple.
Titles may open doors.
They may secure invitations to palace functions.
They may even improve your seating arrangement at official dinners.
But if they cost you a place at the old gang's mamak table, where laughter is free and nobody stands on ceremony, then the price may have been rather high.
After all, there are many Datuks in Malaysia.
But there are very few people who still remember you as simply…
“Hoi, Din, apa macam?”
Mihar Dias (mihardias@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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