MY LIFE.
MY JOURNEY.
MY STORY.
The many lives of a Punjabi boy who refused to let life's hardest chapters become its final pages.
Prologue — Born on Merdeka Day
On 31 August 1974, at 9:20 in the morning, a Punjabi Sikh boy entered the world at Seremban General Hospital. Seventeen years earlier, on that same date, Malaya had celebrated independence.
Every year my birthday arrives alongside the celebration of freedom. I sometimes wonder what that means for my own journey. Not that the date dictated my future, but its message has followed me: freedom to dream, to struggle, to begin again.
I was not born with a silver spoon. I was born into a family where money could be limited, responsibility was enormous, and love was never in short supply.
The question I ask myself
When everything else changes — jobs, businesses, health, friendships — what remains? For me, it is the values my parents gave us, the people who stood beside me, and the determination to make another day count.
1. My Father — The Quiet Weight of Three Jobs
Insert a treasured photograph of Dad here
My father worked hard. At times he held three jobs — not to buy himself luxuries, but to support his wife and children, and to help his siblings build better futures. He helped his sisters become teachers and his brother pursue medicine.
When our own college years approached, support did not always return in the way we had hoped. That hurt. But it also taught me something lasting: never forget the hands that lifted you.
As the eldest boy, between my elder sister and younger brother, I learned that a Punjabi son's responsibility could mean helping, working and studying all at once. Dad rarely needed a speech to teach us. His tired hands did the teaching.
My father passed away in 2015. There are still moments when I wish for one more conversation. Not to ask for anything. Only to thank him.
2. Mum — Our Iron Lady
Mum took us to school and tuition, fetched us home, managed sports and studies, cooked and cared for everyone. Somehow she also found time to sew curtains, sell Pyrex and plastic containers, bake, prepare food and earn that little bit extra.
Long before people spoke about multitasking and entrepreneurship, my mother was living both. I remember her sewing machine. I remember the effort behind every small comfort. We did not always receive new toys or new clothes, but we had what mattered.
Then life turned. Mum became seriously ill and slipped into a coma on several occasions. The woman who once held our hands needed us to hold hers. All the business targets and daily worries became unimportant beside one hope: that she would open her eyes and recognise us again.
To Mum
When we were children, we did not always understand how much you gave. Today we do. The sound of your sewing machine, the trips to tuition, the meals, the scoldings, the love — all of it lives inside us. Thank you for never giving up on your family.
3. Nana Ji's Table — The Great Punjabi Family
Insert an extended-family gathering or prayer photograph
When I think of childhood, I see more than our home. I see Nana Ji, Nani Ji, my six Mama Jis, Massi Ji, Mum's Chacha Ji and his family. I see a large Punjabi family that gathered over breakfast, dinner and prayers.
Nana Ji brought people together. The dining table was where we laughed, shared news, settled differences and learned respect. Prayers reminded us of gratitude. Mum and Dad carried those habits into our own home.
We were not perfect. We disagreed. We had worries and misunderstandings. But we knew we belonged. We were surrounded by people who shared what they could, celebrated together and stood by one another.
To every Mama Ji, every Massi Ji, every relative who offered a meal, a lesson, encouragement or simply a place at the table: you are part of my story, and I respect the place each of you holds in our journey.
4. Three Siblings, Shared Dreams
My elder sister, myself and my younger brother grew up learning to share. New toys and clothes were not automatic. We worked, studied, helped and learned to appreciate what our parents could provide.
My sister completed her LLB. My brother studied and worked his way forward. My own path was different — winding through hotels, banking, insurance, automotive businesses, sports centres, attractions and resorts.
We did not start with everything. But we started with family, discipline and a belief that effort mattered.
5. From Bellboy to Boardroom
I started as a bellboy at The Legend Hotel. I carried luggage, welcomed guests and learned that every role deserves respect. From there came debt collection at Citibank, then Head of Collections at Alliance Bank, followed by sales, marketing and management.
Great Eastern Life on Malaysia's East Coast. AEON Credit in Johor and Kuala Lumpur. DRB-HICOM. Kawasaki. Sunway. Sports facilities, theme parks, attractions, resorts and business consulting.
I have led teams of more than 500 people and worked on a business burdened by approximately RM180 million in debt, helping drive a significant turnaround within six months.
How? Strategy. Systems. Goals. Accountability. Execution. And, most importantly, people.
My leadership lesson
A leader's legacy is not just profit or a title. It is the people who grow, the teams that regain confidence, the systems that continue working and the opportunities created after the leader has moved on.
6. The Accidents — They Could Name My Injuries, Not My Future
Accidents in 2000, 2004, 2009 and 2016 changed my body and tested my spirit. There were operations, metal implants, joint problems, knee replacements, pain and rehabilitation.
The accident in 2004 cost me a toe. I came close to losing my leg. I was told I was handicapped. That description stayed with me — not because disability diminishes anyone's worth, but because I would not allow a medical description to become the limit of my entire future.
Would I walk? Work? Ride? Play sport again? Nobody could promise an easy road. But I could decide to keep trying.
Strength, I discovered, is not always about running faster or lifting more. Sometimes strength is standing up, taking one more careful step and learning to live with a body that has been through extraordinary pain.
7. One Minute and Forty-Two Seconds
There came a moment when my heart stopped for approximately one minute and forty-two seconds.
Such a short time when you are waiting for a traffic light. Such an enormous span when a life hangs in the balance.
I survived. I do not claim to know the mysteries of life and death. But I know that ordinary things felt different afterwards: sunlight, a cup of tea, a friend's laughter, the ability to walk, another morning with family.
What changed in me?
I still work, worry, plan and make mistakes. But I try to remember that tomorrow is not guaranteed. Gratitude is not the absence of struggle; it is the decision to recognise what remains precious even while we struggle.
8. Auckland 2024 — Back Between the Goalposts
At 14, I was already refereeing football. Hockey, too, became part of who I was: teamwork, discipline, pressure, courage and fair play.
Then came 2024. Auckland, New Zealand. At age 50, after years of injuries and operations, I played goalkeeper for Malaysia Masters 50.
Imagine standing between those posts, wearing Malaysian colours, knowing what your body had survived. Every movement meant something. Every save carried years of memories.
I did not need sport to prove my worth. I played because I loved it — and because life had given me the chance to enjoy it again.
9. Two Wheels, a Thousand Corners, a Thousand Lessons
There is something magical about a motorcycle journey. The engine. The changing weather. The mountains. The rain. The unexpected bend. The roadside stall where a stranger becomes a friend.
I have ridden across countries, through the famous 1,000 Corners, on race tracks and off-road trails. I have camped beside rivers and beaches, rested by roadsides and bus stops, and met people whose cultures and generosity taught me lessons no classroom could.
Some of my richest memories cost very little. A shared meal after a long ride. Shelter from the rain. A sunrise by the water. Stories told while sitting beside motorcycles at the end of the day.
The road and life
You cannot take every corner at the same speed. You must read the conditions, adjust and respect the limits. Life is much the same. Some stretches are smooth, some are difficult, and some require us to stop and choose a safer way forward.
Enjoy every turn, every bend and every movement. The beauty is not only in reaching the destination. It is in everything we experience along the way.
10. My Riding Brothers — Still Riding in Heaven
Some friends become family without sharing our blood. We travelled together, laughed, helped one another, planned future rides and collected memories across countless kilometres.
But some of those brothers are no longer here.
Sometimes a familiar corner, a roadside stop or a beautiful sunrise brings their voices back. The jokes. The conversations. The plans for the next ride. For a moment, I can almost imagine them beside me again.
Their absence has taught me that adventure must be accompanied by responsibility. We ride because we love life, not because we take it lightly.
Some journeys end too soon. Some friendships never end at all.
11. Losing Everything — And Learning to Begin Again
People see the promotions, the businesses, the successful projects and the smiling photographs. They do not always see the divorce, the financial losses, the business failures, the uncertainty or the nights spent worrying about tomorrow.
I have known those moments. I have had periods without a job. I have discovered that some people remain beside you when you struggle, while others quietly disappear.
I have also learned not to let disappointment harden me. Bitterness cannot rebuild a business. Anger cannot return the years. Resentment cannot replace the kindness we still have to give.
What loss did not take away
I could lose money without losing my ability to work. Lose a business without losing my knowledge. Experience divorce without losing my capacity to care. Suffer injuries without losing my desire to live fully.
I am not perfect. I have made mistakes. But I refuse to make my worst chapter the title of my whole life.
12. Education Never Stops
From hospitality to banking, finance, automotive, marketing, attractions and consulting, every chapter demanded new skills. I have continued studying and developing myself, completing my PhD in 2026 alongside years of practical experience.
Artificial intelligence, automation, digital business and changing customer expectations are reshaping the world. We cannot expect yesterday's knowledge to solve every problem tomorrow.
But learning is not limited to universities. I have learned from mechanics, teammates, employees, customers, riders, village communities and strangers who welcomed me during my travels.
At 52, I am not finished learning. Not even close.
13. From Boardrooms to the Silver Screen — Lights, Camera, AJ!
A gangster. A doctor. A lawyer. A lecturer. A Sepoy. An Arab prince. A Thai king. Who says one lifetime allows only one identity?
Life handed me more than one script. And I decided to try acting in a few of them.
People have known me as a business leader, hockey goalkeeper, motorcycle rider, consultant and trainer. But I have another adventure close to my heart: acting in television dramas and films. I have walked onto sets not as a man with a corporate title, but as a student of another craft. I listen to directors, watch crews at work, learn the rhythms of a scene and discover how a story is built through hundreds of people doing their part.
After accidents, operations, business losses and the loss of people I love, I know how fragile time can be. So why keep postponing a dream? Why wait for some mythical perfect moment? I want to fill my years with experiences — not with regrets about what I never tried.
My drama and movie journey — twelve adventures on screen
There is a wonderful humility in acting. I may have led teams of more than 500 people, but on a set I have to learn my place in the scene. A brief role still demands attention, patience, discipline and respect for the people around me. The camera does not care about my résumé. It asks whether I can bring a character to life.
I do not need to be the leading star to value this experience. A small part can hold a huge memory. One day I may be dressed as a prince; another day I am a doctor or a soldier. Every costume, location, conversation and take becomes another story to carry home.
To the directors, actors, crew members and friends who have welcomed me into this world: thank you for another classroom, another family of storytellers and another reason to wake up excited about life.
My bucket list is not finished. Neither is my story. Lights, camera — the journey continues!
14. The Stars, the Date and the Person I Became
Born on 31 August 1974, I am a Virgo in Western sun-sign astrology and a Wood Tiger in the Chinese zodiac. In common numerology, my full birth date reduces to 33, then 6 — sometimes called a 33/6 life-path number.
I find these traditions culturally interesting, but I do not believe that the stars alone explain my successes or hardships. Astrology and numerology are not scientifically established predictors of personality or destiny.
My father taught responsibility. Mum taught resilience. Nana Ji taught togetherness. Sport taught discipline. Accidents taught patience. Riding taught perspective. Life taught humility.
Those are the forces I can recognise in the man I have become.
15. If I Could Speak to the Young Amarjeet
My boy, enjoy the family meals. Listen to Nana Ji's stories. Remember Nani Ji's love. Watch your father carefully, because one day you will understand the weight he carries. Listen when Mum calls you to study. One day you will miss even her scoldings.
Do not be ashamed of starting as a bellboy. Do not be afraid of the hospital. Do not let people define your future by your injuries. Do not become arrogant when you succeed or ashamed when you fail.
Ride carefully. Love deeply. Study continuously. Respect your elders. Be kind to people who have less than you. Appreciate those who stay. Remember those who have gone.
And never allow disappointment to convince you that your story has ended.
16. Fifty-Two Years — And Still So Much Road Ahead
As I write in October 2026, I am 52 years old. Some might say it is time to slow down. I ask: why must our dreams have an expiry date?
I still want to learn. To ride. To play hockey. To help businesses transform. To guide younger people. To discover cultures. To share knowledge. To laugh with friends. To be present for family.
I have lost loved ones, but I have not lost the love they gave me. I have lost businesses, but not my ability to rebuild. My heart once stopped, but I am still here to appreciate another morning.
My life's greatest lesson
Do not measure your entire life by the chapter you are living through today. A difficult chapter is not the final page. What matters is how we respond, what we learn, whom we help, and how much gratitude we carry into the next chapter.
17. Thank You — To Everyone Who Has Travelled with Me
To Dad: thank you for responsibility, dignity and sacrifice.
To Mum: thank you for your tireless love, your strength and every small thing you did that we now understand was enormous.
To Nana Ji and Nani Ji: thank you for the meals, the prayers and the sense of belonging.
To each Mama Ji, Massi Ji, my mother's Chacha Ji and all our extended family: thank you for the memories, lessons and love.
To my sister and brother: thank you for sharing the beginning of this journey.
To my friends, teammates, colleagues and riding brothers: thank you for the roads we travelled together.
To the brothers who have passed away: I carry your memories in my heart.
And to those who helped me when I had nothing to offer in return: I will never forget.
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