Alagendra at 96: Olympian, top cop and timeless hero

Free Malaysia Today

5 days ago

Evergreen icon P Alagendra made his mark in sport and law enforcement, but his greatest legacy is the love he inspired especially in his daughters (L-R): Anna Poorani, Shyamala Devi, Venkateswari, and Raja Rajesvari. (Anna Poorani pic)
KUALA LUMPUR : Ask P Alagendra how it feels to be 96, and he won't give you a lecture on ageing or a meditation on legacy.
He'll flash that trademark grin and say, 'Feels like extra time in a good match — you never know when the whistle will blow, but you play like it never will.'
And just like that, the man who survived four assassination attempts, led Olympic squads, and helped shape Malaysian sport shrugs off nearly a century of extraordinary living as if it were just another matchday.
Classic Alagendra, or Aly, — wry, wise, and always game.
Aly has never needed medals to validate him or microphones to announce him.
Surrounded by his four grandchildren, P Alagendra finds new joy in every laugh, hug, and curious question. (Anna Poorani pic)
From the police barracks during the Emergency to the Olympic dugout in Melbourne, Tokyo and Montreal, he built his legend one purposeful step at a time.
He was never the loudest voice in the room, just the one people listened to. A natural leader, a tactician in sports administration, and a man whose stories stretch far beyond the boundaries of any field.
Today, there won't be a grand stage, a glittering guest list or booming speeches.
Just a quiet lunch in the warm glow of family — four daughters, four grandchildren, and a few lifelong friends who've long known that Aly doesn't need a stage.
He is the stage.
They've heard the stories, but they still want to hear them again.
Because when a man has lived through both history and heartbreak, and carried the hopes of a nation, every word he offers feels like gold.
A patriot in motion
Born in 1929 in Kajang and educated at King George V School in Seremban, Aly's journey reads like the biography of a country in motion — full of fire, heart, and the grit of a young Malaysia finding its place in the world.
Long before the country even had a flag of its own, Aly was out on the field with a hockey stick, dreaming big.
Chef de mission P Alagendra, behind flag bearer Mirnawan Nawawi, waving to the crowd at the Sydney Olympics in 2000.
By 1956, he wasn't just dreaming. He was living it, representing Malaya at the Melbourne Olympics as part of the national hockey squad.
It was the squad that first carried our flag, and our hopes, onto the global sporting stage.
Off the field, Aly's life took an even more thrilling turn.
Against his father's wishes, he joined the police force in 1950, diving straight into the volatile theatre of the Emergency and the Communist insurgency.
He survived four assassination attempts, including a grenade blast at the police field force headquarters on Jalan Pekeliling, Kuala Lumpur, that killed five of his men.
Somehow, between security patrols and intelligence briefings, he kept his love for sport alive.
More than alive, he nurtured it into something national.
The builder behind the bench
Aly wasn't just a player; he was a coach at the 1964 Tokyo Games, a manager at Mexico 1968 and Montreal 1972, and later the chef de mission at Sydney 2000.
Whether leading from the bench or behind the scenes, he brought structure, discipline, and heart to Malaysian hockey long before sports science and slogans took over.
From 1958 to 2005, Aly was the quiet engine behind Malaysian hockey's golden decades.
He was player, selector, coach, manager, vice-president, deputy president of the Malaysian Hockey Federation, and secretary-general of the Asian Hockey Federation for nearly 25 years.
Aly didn't just attend meetings; he moved the game forward with the kind of integrity and foresight that can't be taught.
His vision, tireless efforts and diplomatic charm earned him the FIH Order of Merit in 2000 and honorary life presidency of Asian hockey.
He measured success by how many young players got their shot, how many veterans were looked after, and how often Malaysia punched above its weight.
P Alagendra as a young police officer (left) and in his later years as a distinguished gentleman of sport. (Family pics)
As co-founder of the Malaysia Olympians Association, he ensured athletes weren't discarded after their medals stopped shining.
He helped launch the Malaysian Hockey Foundation in 1992 to provide former players with educational and financial assistance, and the MHF Academy in 2011 in Ipoh to groom future stars.
Aly wanted continuity, not ceremony. Legacy, not limelight.
It wasn't just hockey. Give him a ball, any ball, and he was in his happy place.
He was vice-president of the Football Association of Selangor, the Malaysian Cricket Association, and a player who represented five states across multiple disciplines.
He helped organise the 1975 Hockey World Cup, 1998 Commonwealth Games hockey tournament, as well as the 2002 Hockey World Cup, all in Kuala Lumpur.
For journalists, he was a paradox, disarmingly funny and unfailingly exact.
He'd correct your facts without flinching, then ask how your child was doing. It wasn't charm, not really. It was consistency.
He treated people the way he treated sport — seriously, but never unkindly.
When the late Sultan Azlan Shah, another towering figure in Malaysian hockey, called Aly a brother-in-arms, it wasn't flattery.
It was fact. Together, they lifted the game into a cultural force.
Their friendship would stretch across decades and culminate in the creation of the Sultan Azlan Shah Cup, one of Asia's most prestigious invitational tournaments.
P Alagendra (second from right) charges at Penang's goal in the 1950s, an emerging Selangor hockey player with dreams in his stick. (Family pic)
Today, photos of Aly and Sultan Azlan grace the walls of 'Aly's Gallery,' a personal museum of sorts inside his office at Kajang Plaza, fittingly located on a road named after him.
Aly bought the land where the house of his father, Ponnudurai, stood and the surrounding area, and built Kajang Plaza with 36 shop units.
Worthy of ovation
Despite losing his beloved wife, criminal lawyer Saraswathy Devi, two years ago, Aly remains the centre of a family that reflects his values: perseverance without drama, grace under fire, and deep, unwavering loyalty.
His daughters, Raja Rajesvari, Venkateswari, Anna Poorani and Shyamala Devi, all lawyers, carry his principled strength.
Shyamala, a renowned international lawyer specialising in human rights, is married to Karim Khan, chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court.
P Alagendra at 'Aly's Gallery' (left) and at the road named after him. (Family pic)
Anna Poorani said no one made her feel more loved, more valued, or more unshakably right than her father did.
'With Papa, I was always seen, always heard, and always held in the highest regard,' she said. 'That kind of love stays with you.'
And so today, as the stories about police crackdowns, hockey finals, bureaucratic blunders, and press room punchlines resurface, Aly will smile the way he always does: mischievously, modestly, like he had nothing to do with any of it.
There will be the sound of clinking glasses and soft laughter. And in that moment, you will understand: this, too, is a kind of stadium. A private one. Lit by memories. Cheered by those who know what it really means to serve.
At 96, the former Selangor chief police officer doesn't ask for fanfare, but he deserves an ovation.
Not for surviving. Not even for serving. But for showing us dignity doesn't need a drumroll. That life, like sport, should always be played with heart.
He said: 'I've lived through war, sport, politics, and love at full throttle. And I've learned this — if you serve something greater than yourself, you'll never feel small. Thank you for letting me live a big life.'
So here's to Alagendra — still in extra time, still playing beautifully, and still telling better stories than all the trophies in the cabinet.