I first met Professor Miksic in 2004, during the archaeological excavation at St Andrew’s Cathedral. I was still young, still trying to understand what heritage really means beyond the surface of old stones and museum labels. He didn’t teach by grand speeches or by imposing authority. He taught by presence. By curiosity. By the way he noticed things others overlooked.
Over the years I collected all his books, not just to read, but to study. To learn how he thought. He shaped the way I approach history and material culture, and he gave me the confidence to pursue independent research when it wasn’t always fashionable to do so. Whenever he shared an insight, it felt like a small lantern being lit in a dark corner of the room. You walked away seeing more than before.
We crossed paths again in later years, including the 2014 NUS Summer School programme and the 2015 TBMPC event. What I remember most was how generous he was with his time, and how gently he carried his knowledge. For someone whose work changed how Southeast Asian history is understood, he never made anyone feel small.
I won’t lie. My heart grows heavy as I write this. One by one, the mentors who shaped my path are returning to the earth. Their absence is not just personal grief, it is a reminder. Life is impermanent, and our task is to carry forward the work, the spirit, the curiosity, the kindness that they gifted us.
Professor Miksic wasn’t just an academic figure to me. He was a guide. A quiet giant. A reminder that scholarship can be humble, human, and deeply rooted in respect for the communities and cultures we study.
Thank you, Professor. For the wisdom, the patience, and the inspiration.
I will miss you, my friend.
May you rest in peace.
