/ 02 — WRITING · JOURNAL

Thinking
on paper.

Long-form essays on markets, systems, and machines — alongside a scholarship statement that started it all.

words that earn their keep ↓
4 ENTRIES
1 PUBLISHED
NO.
TITLE & EXCERPT
CATEGORY
STATUS
P-001
If Words Were a Promise
A personal statement — about building a gym, breaking a promise, and what structural change really costs.
Personal Statement
Leadership · Systems
PUBLISHED
Read →
E-001
The Electrification of Malaysia
Published in The ASEAN Frontier — Malaysia's strategic position in the ASEAN EV ecosystem: semiconductors, battery services, smart grid, and five policy recommendations.
Economics
Transport · Policy
PUBLISHED
Read ↗
E-002
QR Codes across South East Asia
Mapping rapid QR-based payment adoption — leapfrog economics, financial inclusion, and the death of cash.
Economics
Fintech · Markets
IN PROGRESS
Soon
B-001
VTOL Drone — Design Log
Notes from building a fixed-wing VTOL — Fusion 360 decisions, what the wind tunnel numbers said, and what changes next.
Aerospace
Engineering · Build
ACTIVE BUILD
Soon
P-001 · PERSONAL STATEMENT · 2025
ESSAY № P-001 · PERSONAL STATEMENT · 2025

If Words Were a Promise

If words were a promise, I have only ever broken one. I made it to myself when I was fifteen, that I would build something in the future to benefit the people I was building it for. I did not keep that promise. And that failure has shaped me more than any success ever could.

I think in systems. Not because I was taught to, but because I was forced to. My first months at Kolej Yayasan Saad dismantled every assumption I had about effort. I had believed in a simple equation: work hard, get results. The formula was simple, almost Newtonian: Force Applied equals acceleration achieved. But no man is cut from the same cloth. I lost my place on the rugby team. I placed near the bottom academically. Surrounded by people just as capable, if not even more, effort alone stopped being enough. A hard truth I had to learn at just 13 years-of-age.

For the first time, I considered giving up. This was the moment I realised that my old approach wasn't working, and that something fundamental needed to change.

I distinctly remember checking my results with my friends on my desk after school. And the devastating ego crush that came after, with my friends getting a 4.0 CGPA while I was ranked near the bottom. That moment could have broken me. Instead, it revealed something more unsettling, like a stone in my shoe: effort without direction was just wasted motion. Like force applied without intention, it produces no meaningful change.

"Effort without direction was just wasted motion. Like force applied without intention, it produces no meaningful change."

So, at that turning point, I chose to rebuild myself like a system. I began to study deliberately. I trained earlier than everyone else. I analysed my weaknesses. Then slowly, the results followed. I climbed rankings, earned leadership roles, and found my footing again. But even then, something felt incomplete. Because while I was improving, my rugby team, The Rammers, was not. We were still losing. Still being overpowered by opponents who were bigger, stronger, and more disciplined. That was when I took a step back and asked a different question. Not "how do I get better?" but "why are we losing in the first place?"

The answer was simple. The best teams had better facilities. Better facilities meant better training. Better training meant better players. It made them more consistent, more disciplined. Their system was more efficient. It wasn't motivation we lacked; it was infrastructure. It was material.

Determined to break this cycle, I set out to change the system.

At fifteen, I undertook the largest student-led project in my school's history: rebuilding a broken gym. It started with a proposal. Then another. And another. 57 rejections later, the answer finally changed. There was nothing glamorous about those two years. It was administrative, relentless work, the toil and moil. From negotiating with suppliers in China and Germany, to navigating shipping logistics through Singapore, raising over RM200,000, and learning to communicate in rooms where I was often the youngest and the least taken seriously.

But slowly, piece by piece, the system came together.

When the gym finally opened in March 2025, something remarkable happened. My teammates started showing up at the gym — before school, after school, on weekends. Emphatically, consistently. The same players who had once been physically overwhelmed began to grow. And for the first time, our team advanced past the group stages of a national tournament.

I was part of the first fifteen that day. But the truth is — that was never the real victory. Because by the time all the equipment arrived, my rugby career was already over. I had built the system too late for myself. That was the promise I broke. And I have sat with that long enough to understand what it means.

"The most important work you will ever do is often work you will never personally benefit from. Leadership is not measured by what you gain, but by what continues without you."

Eight months after I retired, a different team progressed even further. My juniors defeated the reigning champions, a feat deemed impossible before this.

Though I wasn't there, the system I built was.

This kind of lasting contribution is what I value most. Not symbolic leadership, but structural change — the kind that outlasts you and carries others further. This belief guides how I serve my community, whether by leading Model United Nations teams and developing others, or by mentoring peers academically and athletically. My focus remains: remove the constraint, and people will rise.

This is why I want to pursue mechanical engineering: Malaysia does not lack talent, but systems that fully enable it. Engineering is the discipline of accountability. You cannot theorise your way into a working bridge, or rely on intention to bear stress. Every design must endure pressure and translate vision into reality.

Nation-building, to me, is not a metaphor. It is a literal act of designing systems that distribute opportunity, industries that build self-sufficiency, and mechanisms that allow people to move, grow, and thrive. My education will be my foundation for this work. Not just to understand how systems function, but how they fail — and more importantly, how to redesign them so they won't fail ever again.

Scholarship institutions represent more than financial support. They represent infrastructure — the same kind that changed everything for my team. With the right structure, potential is no longer theoretical. It becomes inevitable. I know what it costs to build something that lasts. I know what it costs to break a promise.

The gym will stand for decades without me needing to maintain it. I intend to spend my life building systems that stand longer and stronger — not for a school, but for a nation. And this time, I will build them knowing that the people they are meant for may never include me.

"Though I wasn't there, the system I built was."

That is a promise I am finally ready to keep.

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