The movie, Anwar: The Untold Story made its debut yesterday.

My wife, my 30-year-old son and I managed to get tickets to one of the shows at IOI City Mall in Putrajaya.

In this article, I will deal with the most important meaning of this movie that was made under the worst of circumstances of no sponsorship, no actors willing to sacrifice their careers and no technical aids that could be engaged with a decent fee, but it made it to the screen with the uncertainty that it would be aired at all.

Before this, I did not know who Farid Kamil was but I saluted him for his bravery and courage to portray an important political figure that in all probability would never be the Prime Minister of Malaysia.

Kudos Farid and thank you. This movie will never win any Oscar for any category except if there were a category for “courage,” and Zunar and Farid would have bagged the award hands down.

If there was a CD of this movie, I would buy it and place it on my “Reformasi” rack containing hundreds of ceramah CDs, books, magazines and paraphernalia of 22 years of Reformasi.

I would never buy a Mat Kilau or a Tanda Putera CD and will never watch these two trash films made with million-ringgit budget and sponsored by people who want only a one-race Malaysia.

In my house, there is a painting that sits in the middle of the heart of my home. I called it The Eye of Reformasi.

The painting looks like an eye with wavy lines and colors agitated by nuances of changes in the light.

It was painted by my former student Rosdan Abdul Manan, a talented designer, artist and entrepreneur.

I had asked him to immortalize the “shame” of Malaysia, the black eye of Anwar Ibrahim after he was beaten by the coward police gangster Rahim Noor.

There are two names that I cannot mention without my heart aching with pain and my soul screeching for vengeance to pray for the devastation of these two personalities, Tun M and Rahim Noor.

To me, both these Malays are the most shameless people who are not worthy not only to be citizens of this country but are both unworthy of even being called “humans.”

Yes, these two personalities have contributed much to the development and peace as well as security of this nation, but I will stand in testimony to Allah on the Day of Judgment what these two had done to another human being by the name of Anwar.

I am not out to glorify Anwar as some writers have accused me of. I have never sat for two minutes with Anwar Ibrahim to have a decent conversation.

I write because of the injustice to another human being whether his name is Anwar, Amir or Raymond. It does not matter for I hardly know personally any one of these people.

As a Muslim, I have an obligation to speak out on injustice that was done to anyone, Muslim or not. Itu saja!

The movie, Anwar: The Untold Story, is very much like my painting on the wall of my Kajang house. They are both symbols of the most heinous crime committed by a whole government, by a whole political party and with the silent consent of universities and religious departments.

What happened with the incident of the Anwar detention and beatings had placed all the institutions I mentioned as accomplices to a crime of dignity and almost murder.

As a Muslim, I have an obligation to speak out on injustice that was done to anyone, Muslim or not.

In Islam, all those who had not spoken against this crime, will have to answer to Allah on the Day of Judgment.

Prime ministers, ministers, heads of civil servants, the police, the academics and the muftis will be asked by Allah why you let this happen and why you did not speak out against it.

Good luck answering Allah when He already knows what is hidden in the hearts of all men.

I remember clearly the Black Eye of Anwar. After his sacking, I was a Malay and a Muslim academic devastated with the knowledge that my whole country was run by a group of “mafia-like” ministers.

Later on, the late Shahnon Ahmad wrote the book SHIT in Malay which described Mahathir, the leaders of Umno, the civil servants and the Malays who followed him as “kepala taik dan lendir-lendir busuk.”

It was the damndest book by a Malay about the Malays in power. The book was banned but I managed to get a copy.

I remember waking up every single day in 1998 to go to the largest newsstand and spy on the latest magazines like Asiaweek, The Times and other magazines produced by PAS.

Harakah, which was published twice weekly, was my main source and its circulation jumped to 300,000.

Utusan Malaysia, Berita Haria and New Straits Times were trash reading that were even too dirty to wipe the shit of cats and dogs.

My wife stayed glued to the TV waiting for glimpses of CNN, CNA and Al Jazeera for any news about Anwar.

TV1 was useless, TV2 worthless and TV3 would make you throw up every day with its unprofessionally biased reporting.

I imagined that in the court of Allah on the Day of Judgment, there would be a long line stretching across Malaysia for individuals that would be tried for the case of one man alone.

Now some Malaysians may think me overly dramatic and overselling, but many of you were not there to witness the Black Eye of a defenseless man against the might of Tun M and the whole Malaysian government.

I was there, my wife was there and we will never forget how we felt and the desperation we saw 22 long years ago.

Malaysians must all watch the film Anwar: The Untold Story. You must take your adult children to watch it.

I felt my wife draw a tear or two not because of the acting but because it actually happened.

The beating of a man handcuffed, blindfolded and ripped from his family just because he defied a prime minister who thought he could escape the punishment of Allah.

Watch and feel that it could be one of us, one of our children, one of our loved ones being kidnapped, incarcerated without justice and beaten to a pulp without mercy and rewarding the gangster police who did that with much reward later in life.

Watch as who we are now and what will become of all of us in the future hauntingly clear in this movie that shows the ugly reality of absolute power and power with no conscience whatsoever.

(Prof Dr. Mohd Tajuddin Mohd Rasdi is Professor of Architecture at a local university and his writing reflects his own personal opinion entirely.)