A Peek Into The Past...

For the first time in my life I drove all the way to Penang with my youngest. It was 29 August 2008. He is 15 and was a little reluctant to follow me especially when I said I was going back to the estate and wanted to show him my humble beginnings.

My only token of enticement was, “You’ll get to see how people perform Fire-Walking for real, you know - REAL and live, not merely as the recorded and edited version that you see on the Discovery Channel.” He succumbed and agreed to be my GPS for at least part of the journey.

This trip was very significant to me. On Merdeka Day I was going back to temple festivities in the estate I grew up in. And this, after a lapse of almost four decades. As is the case with most of us, the passage of time and the break provided by distance heaps fond memories of those long gone years into a special place in our hearts. Somehow they tend to take the sting out of unpleasant episodes and heighten the fondness of the pleasant ones. I have carried within me many fond memories of this estate and its people. They are an integral part of me and will always be. I hope that I will be considered a part of them!

For many years I had accompanied my husband to sit on the podium and witness the National Day Parade. I had decided at some point that someday I wanted to do something more significant on National Day; something that will bear witness to the patriotism I feel searing in my blood. I want to give back something to this wonderful land that has been generous and kind to its people and also to my family.

As we journey through life, we leave bits of our soul in the places we have been and in return gather lessons that serve as badges or as evidence to the many places (not only geographical but in a metaphysical sense as well) we have been! But I am sure you will agree that none is as sweet as those initial years where we floundered with joy and rejoiced with despair at experiences which baffled us. We brushed these aside (no thanks to motivation gurus!) and forged ahead selling and buying dreams, weaving relationships and making our mark in the big as well as the small world.

My first stop after a night’s rest in Penang (at my sister Rani’s place) was to Sungai Toh Pawang Estate Division I. This estate is about 6 miles from the town of Bedong on the road to Gurun. Turning off the main road at a steep slant is the road that heads into this estate. At the entrance is a Hindu temple which my grandfather had helped build way back in 1952. It also happens to be the temple on whose floor I was made to lie and gasp in wonder (small wonder surely, because I was barely 30 days old!) before a deity that would extend her immense benevolence to protect me, guide me and resurrect me from life’s defeats.

Almost two generations later, here I was before this very deity. With tears streaming down my cheeks (and a trifle embarrassed at my own emotionality) I thanked her for my life. “I have returned, in every sense of the word, and I am proud of who I am. I owe you everything. Thank you.” I choked on my thoughts.

My mother, sensing my discomposure, distracted the others by starting a conversation with the small group of people who were seated by a pillar about 10 metres from us. My face was turned away from them and I quickly dabbed my eyes with tissue.

“My father, Suppiah, was the headmaster of the Tamil school here. I am the eldest daughter,” she said to nobody in particular. But the response was absolutely gratifying!

As I turned to face the group I was surprised at the respect my grandfather’s name had evoked in the group of five middle-aged men, two middle-aged ladies and another slightly younger man. They stood up immediately on hearing his name and were excited that they were meeting his daughter. Mum did further introductions and needless to say they were proud that one of their’s had become .......errrm.....’me’.

And so they turned their attention towards me. “Why had you not accompanied your husband when he came here?” Why indeed? Of course with my years as his wife I am experienced at warding questions that have no ‘proper’ answers? I was busy being a mother and a dutiful wife.(“ Isn’t everybody? “ I have often asked that of me.)

They wanted help to refurbish/renovate the temple, and I asked, “Why don’t we find the means through patronage? That’s the best way for places of worship so that they will not cater to an ‘elite’ group but will be used by bigger groups of people.” They agreed. Then being the self-acclaimed tech savvy person, I suggested that they should create a website for the temple with the help of students who are from the SMK Bedong and doing computer studies.

“It is a good way to involve them. And you could also use the opportunity to include them in religious and cultural activities of the temple. It can initiate an involvement with the community. I am sure this will bring good benefits both ways.” They seemed pleasantly surprised with my ‘progressive’ idea.

I do come up with ‘revolutionary’ ideas now and then, which is why I tend to be in the background and not open my mouth too often. I had learnt early in life (from a diplomat’s wife, actually) that it is best to be diplomatic which means to smile a lot and be as decorative as possible!

After discussing some more on what needs to be done both to the temple and its devotees and exchanging contact details we left the temple to drive through the estate. As we started the car and headed down the road I remembered of the time when this same road was lined on both sides with school children and other eager youngsters who stood under the harsh mid-morning sun completely oblivious to the heat and sweat.

They were dutifully waving the Malaysian flag (and which has since been monikered as the Jalur Gemilang), greeting the special visitor to my grandfather’s school on that auspicious day. He was none other than En Mohd Khir Johari, the then Education Minister who has since passed away. (Tan Sri Mohd Khir Johari passed away in November 2006). His visit created such an uproar that the entire estate got into their finery and even prepared feasts just so they could feel they were part of some historical happening. Such was the honour and respect with which the minister was greeted. My grandfather was so proud of his school and his students and I too beamed with pride!

I made a mental note to search for the rare photographs which were proof of that grand day. I must have been 8 or 9 but the festive air and the general cheer among the estate folks were so exuberantly expressed that it has remained with me.

So when the car moved down the road in the direction of the school my heart went cold when I saw what had become of the place. Where were the rows of smart houses with multi-coloured Cannas that framed every doorway? What I was seeing were hopelessly dilapidated structures amidst unkempt lallang and overgrown foliage in most places, except maybe one fairly decent house. That must have been Mr Kandiah's house. He was the estate 'dresser' who kept our shins polished and our noses from running. Oh! ...I sighed .....saddened beyond words....