Colourful balloons and oversized banners festooned the cavernous hall of the Putra World Trade Centre. The men, gaily decked in their finest national costumes, were beaming and heartily hugging each other. The Wanita ladies were equally stunning in their bright sarong kebayas, their tudungs both perfunctorily and seductively covering their hair. Moments like these make me appreciate Umno's secular traditions. Had this been a PAS convention, those beautiful faces and graceful figures would be shabbily cloaked in formless drab chadors.

The atmosphere resembled that of an ostentatious Malay wedding rather than a serious political gathering. Strangely, the gaiety did not affect me. My mood was set earlier when an Umno youth, on spotting the name of a foreign company on me, menacingly snarled, "You are one of them!"

The arrival of the kompang troupe silenced the crowd. Next came slender damsels in bunga mawar floral procession. And trailing the gorgeous maidens was the Prime Minister, fit, trim, and looking young, his gray hair hidden by his songkok. He resembled a nervous groom, his oversized corsage marring his smiling face. A small carnation tastefully tacked on the lapel enhances one's masculinity. A bouquet? That's for the bride!

The Great Malaysian Hero slowly made his way to the podium. The crowd burst into prolonged wild applause. They soon settled, but not before a junior minister, a recent appointee no doubt, whipped the faithful once again with a lusty cry of "Hidup Mahathir!" Now they were ready for words of wisdom and inspiration from the Great Leader.

Here we go: Malaysia Boleh, Vision 2020, and Twin Towers! Watch out evil foreigners, lustful sodomites, and Islamic extremists.

Yes, the man has done much for Malaysia. Had he promised, when he assumed power in 1981, half of what he now achieved, it would have been dismissed as a fantasy. No leader can achieve such feats without the implicit consent of the governed.

Yet there are those who now belittle these remarkable achievements, claiming they would have happened anyway. These critics conveniently forget the Indonesias and Nigerias of the world. Leaders do matter. Indeed, it is the mark of a true leader that when all is done, his followers would proudly proclaim that they did it all themselves.

Mahathir is a perceptive politician. The present adulation cannot hide the humiliation he and his party suffered in the last elections. He must sense the rising opposition, especially among the young. They are openly contemptuous of him and his style of leadership. They ridicule him as Mahafiraun and other epithets. In the recent Sanggang byelection campaign he was conspicuously absent, a tacit acknowledgment of his liability to the party.

Nonetheless the man is capable of confounding his critics. Who would have thought this Umno ultra of the 1960s would now count among his ardent supporters, non-Malays? A man who once wrote of the "menace of Chinese economic hegemony" is now enthusiastically embraced by, yes, Malaysian Chinese!

More recently, amidst widespread ugly charges of cronyism and corruption, he shrewdly released that infamous "list" and thus effectively defanged his critics. In particular, Anwar Ibrahim and his yapping dog, Ahmad Zahid Hamidi, were sheepishly silenced when it was revealed that they were among the greediest cronies.

Why does Mahathir have blind spots now? Rigidity brought on by the subtle ravages of aging? A control freak in a world that now celebrates openness and freedom? But his views on the dangers of rampant capitalism and unbridled globalism for instance, which seemed so outlandish when he first uttered them a few years ago, are now regarded as, well, almost mainstream.

Had Mahathir resigned after the last elections, this convention would serve as an emotional farewell for him. A fitting tribute to a great leader. Now, despite the glitter and outward demonstrations of loyalty, there remains an undertone of resentment and anger. His orchestrated Supreme Council "advice" that there be no challenges to the leadership compounds the bitterness. Must he, like his predecessor Tunku Abdul Rahman, be given a brutal message before he gets it?

Wait! The man began to stutter. He shifted his gait, his glistening eyes flickering rapidly between the podium and the ceiling. He slurred his speech. The stress was showing! Was he having a stroke?

"I... I... " he uncharacteristically stammered, "will respectfully decline the nomination... and resign once you choose a new leader!"

The crowd gasped. Burly Umno youths were silenced. Wanita members were seen gently wiping away tears with their tudung, sobbing quietly. Subdued, Mahathir apologised profusely for not informing them earlier. Something about protecting the party from a long and divisive contest.

I suddenly became charitable. He is indeed a great leader, thinking of his party and country right to the very end. He suffered barbs and mercilessly depicted as a power-hungry dictator when he was merely bidding for the appropriate time. A lesser mortal would have quit at the height of the economic and political crisis. But there he was, duty bound to see his nation through. How noble and patriotic!

"Hidup Mahathir!" I yelled impulsively.

The entire audience turned towards me. Quiet, ugly stares; but I felt unrestrained. My old faith in the man now fully restored, I flung out my arms shouting, "Hooray for Mahathir!"

The nearby youths were not amused. Unable to contain myself, I let out a long wild catcall. Then a crushing blow to my torso and I was floored. I struggled, arms and legs flailing. They were strangling me. I gasped! My body went limp. Images of my life, friends, and family flashed by.

Then some faint sweet lullaby. Angels welcoming me to heaven! I strained. A voice became clear and familiar.

"Wake up, dear! Wake up!" It was my wife, her hand upon my chin. "You had a terrible nightmare!"

"No," I smiled, "it was a dream," squeezing my eyes, desperate to recapture the rapidly receding delicious moments, "and a very beautiful one!"