Revisiting old haunts.
I was in Hartamas over lunchtime today to fill up on petrol so that I will not run out in the traffic jam on my way home this evening. The old section of Hartamas was typically full without any parking space to be seen. So I decided to take a drive to the “newer” section – the area beyond the traffic lights. It occurred to me that it has been nearly ten years since I last went there.
The place has changed tremendously. The traffic direction was somewhat confusing, for one. I found a parking space. An expensive one I might add. And I went to a Nasi Kandar place where the tagline was ‘Everybody’s favourite place’. I ordered a rojak mee which turned out pleasant but nothing I would drive twenty miles for. As I sat waiting for my rojak mee, I saw a young woman dressed in blue Baju kurung with a tudung neatly wrapped around her head. I guess she would fit the descriptive word, ‘demure’. In her hands, she had a Marlboro and a lighter. Immediately the Pak Lebai in me started his mental sermon, I heard ghostly voices in my ears yelling ‘moral decline’, ‘western influence’, ‘menyimpang dari jalan sebenar’ et cetera. As I listened to the dogma I am suddenly reminded of my dear old Great grandmother in Kelantan.
I was very young, maybe less than ten, and I was sitting on the steps outside the backdoor of my grandfather’s house in Kampung Tepus, Kelantan. She was rolling a leaf cigarette between her withered hands. Then she placed it between her lips and she asked me to pass her the lighter. It was one of those scratch lighters they had back then. It worked like the Zippo but much smaller and much much less expensive. As she smoked, she told me stories of what it was like when times were hard. She gave me advice that I can no longer recall. I hope that if I am a good person today, part of that is because of the advice she gave me back then. She passed away a few years later. I remember I cried. I think somehow the young woman I saw may have looked a little like my great grandmother when she was young. Like I saw her in the old photos at my grandmother’s house. Suddenly the Pak Lebai in me was silent. His voice was replaced by the low humming of an old lady’s voice singing a lullaby deep in the back of my memory. In my heart, I thanked the young woman with the pack of Marlboro for bringing up that sweet sweet memory that I thought was lost and gone forever.
After lunch, I drove back to my office. It seems that getting out of that place requires some thought. It was broad daylight but as I weaved my way along that unfamiliar road, I half expected to see the nightman appear beside me saying, ‘Relax, we are programmed to receive… you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.’
I began to wonder what spices they had used in the sauce.
The place has changed tremendously. The traffic direction was somewhat confusing, for one. I found a parking space. An expensive one I might add. And I went to a Nasi Kandar place where the tagline was ‘Everybody’s favourite place’. I ordered a rojak mee which turned out pleasant but nothing I would drive twenty miles for. As I sat waiting for my rojak mee, I saw a young woman dressed in blue Baju kurung with a tudung neatly wrapped around her head. I guess she would fit the descriptive word, ‘demure’. In her hands, she had a Marlboro and a lighter. Immediately the Pak Lebai in me started his mental sermon, I heard ghostly voices in my ears yelling ‘moral decline’, ‘western influence’, ‘menyimpang dari jalan sebenar’ et cetera. As I listened to the dogma I am suddenly reminded of my dear old Great grandmother in Kelantan.
I was very young, maybe less than ten, and I was sitting on the steps outside the backdoor of my grandfather’s house in Kampung Tepus, Kelantan. She was rolling a leaf cigarette between her withered hands. Then she placed it between her lips and she asked me to pass her the lighter. It was one of those scratch lighters they had back then. It worked like the Zippo but much smaller and much much less expensive. As she smoked, she told me stories of what it was like when times were hard. She gave me advice that I can no longer recall. I hope that if I am a good person today, part of that is because of the advice she gave me back then. She passed away a few years later. I remember I cried. I think somehow the young woman I saw may have looked a little like my great grandmother when she was young. Like I saw her in the old photos at my grandmother’s house. Suddenly the Pak Lebai in me was silent. His voice was replaced by the low humming of an old lady’s voice singing a lullaby deep in the back of my memory. In my heart, I thanked the young woman with the pack of Marlboro for bringing up that sweet sweet memory that I thought was lost and gone forever.
After lunch, I drove back to my office. It seems that getting out of that place requires some thought. It was broad daylight but as I weaved my way along that unfamiliar road, I half expected to see the nightman appear beside me saying, ‘Relax, we are programmed to receive… you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.’
I began to wonder what spices they had used in the sauce.
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