By UK Menon

07 January 2025

Sometimes, the juxtaposition of new stories creates its own stark commentary on the times we live in. Hannah Yeoh’s book, a heartfelt account by one woman of her faith, penned with a prayer for a better future for her countrymen, sparks a frenzied reaction and police reports filed across the nation.

Yet, the cold and calculated murder of another woman—a crime so heinous it defies comprehension—is met with deafening silence. There is no outcry, no police reports, and no rallying of collective sympathy for the parents of the victim as they grapple with their grief and search for closure.

Some ghosts do not go away. They linger, demanding not just closure but truth. Altantuya Shaariibuu’s story is one such ghost, a haunting reminder that the stain of injustice cannot be washed away by time.

Her murder is not just an unresolved crime; it is a moral reckoning for a nation that must decide whether it values justice or merely the appearance of it.

Her ghost will haunt not only those who orchestrated her murder but also those who stood by and did nothing—the complicit enablers of silence. It is a haunting deeply rooted in our collective knowledge.

Remember Mahsuri of Langkawi? Accused unjustly and killed despite her innocence, Mahsuri cursed the land and its people to suffer for seven generations.

The white blood flowing from her injuries—a sign of her purity—stands as a timeless warning: the curse of a wronged woman transcends her life, becoming a moral burden for those who bear witness to injustice and choose indifference over action.

To those in power, who believe they can outrun the consequences of their complicity, Altantuya’s ghost is a relentless reminder.

Her story, like Mahsuri’s, warns that injustice has a long memory. Until justice is delivered, her curse will linger—not just on those who wronged her, but on the conscience of a nation that failed to stand for her.

And to those who rallied as a frenzied mob against Hannah Yeoh’s heartfelt book, claiming moral outrage in the name of faith and virtue, Altantuya’s story casts a stark light on their dishonesty.

Where is that fervour now?

Where is the indignation for a life taken so cruelly, for a family left shattered?

Their silence in the face of this atrocity exposes the hollow posturing of their outrage, revealing not a commitment to justice or truth, but a willingness to abuse morality for convenience.

Some ghosts do not go away. They remain—a relentless reminder of the enduring need for courage and integrity in the fight for justice.

Like Mahsuri’s curse, Altantuya’s story is a reminder that the price of ignoring injustice is a stain that lasts generations.

And what of the mob that clamoured against Hannah Yeoh’s heartfelt book, wielding outrage as their weapon? It is a reminder to them that such selective morality is not a defence of faith or virtue—it is the abdication of both, laid bare for all to see.

[UK Menon is a lawyer turned educator with fifty years in higher education as a teacher and administrator. He now leads a collective of like-minded academics and administrators offering various legal and education-related services.]

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