I still remember the day of Irfan’s birth like it was yesterday. When we left for the hospital, when she was wheeled into the labour room, when I went to see his birth and when I recited the azan in his ear. I cannot believe it has been 18 years since the day. For his 18th birthday, we had dinner at a local restaurant called Watanabe. It was the site of the old Burger Republik. Throughout an odyssey that took us through 12 years in Kuala Lumpur and 6 years in Perlis, Irfan has done nothing but make us be proud of him. I say it every year, but he has come a long way, and I wish him a blessed future and the strength to undergo upcoming tribulations with goodness and dignity. We love you, son.