My Sister Siva Lowings aka Sivasree Krishnan aka Sheela

To Open the Windows One More Time

Treasure every encounter, for it will never recur

 

Paperback writer

Dear Sir or Madam,

will you read my book?

It took me years to write,

will you take a look?

It's based on a novel by a man named Lear

And I need a job

so I want to be a paperback writer

Paperback writer!

BEATLES - PAPERBACK WRITER

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taADLPtyDb0

Family Blog Writer

Dear friend or stranger

Will you read my blog?

It took me months to write

Will you take a look? 

Its based on my sister by name of sheela

So I need this blog

To tell the stories of the people of long ago

Family blog writer...

My name is Siva Prasanna Krishnan and i feel committed to recording memories of a bygone era of growing up in the Malaya of the fifties and sixties, as a child of immigrant parents from Kerala, India. I hope to chart briefly the journey of my family. But no number of photographs can capture pictures stored in the hearts and minds of people...... perhaps words might be able to do what pictures and albums are unable to do ......

The story of all of us Krishnan Children began with the story of the First World War and its aftermath which saw many people leaving British India to come out to the East in search of a better life. My maternal grandfather C. A. Raghavan was born in 1900 in Paravoor, Quilon District Kerala, the second of three sons.

He came to Malaya after the end of the Great War and was in Malaya during the infamous Japanese Occupation. My Dad came to Malaya at a young age with his aunt who came to Malaya after her marriage to Neelakandan, the older brother of my grandfather Raghavan. Neelakandan and family left before the outbreak of the war leaving my Dad who was then a teenager, with my grandfather in 15 Jalan Dhoby Johore Bahru.

There was much suffering for members of my family in India as well as in Malaya. I have often wondered how my paternal grandmother coped when her son did not return to the relative safety of India with the aunt/cousin who had taken him to Malaya in the 1930s.

The prisoners of war, made up mainly of Caucasians and Eurasians, suffered and died in very large numbers in prisons and concentration camps or the dreaded Siam Railway. This period also saw the rise of the Communist Party of Malaya.


After the end of the war, my maternal grandmother sailed to Singapore with her four children and Uncle Ayakutty as their escort, in 1946. Uncle Karunakaran, Dad's first cousin, travelled with my grandmother and her family from Kerala to Madras.


Post War Malaya and the birth of the Krishnan Children during the Emergency Years - 1948 to 1960

A Changing Political and Social Scenario

The turbulent political and social situation in post-war Malaya saw different political parties and citizens clamouring for independence. The Malayan Union was rejected and then replaced with the Federation of Malaya and all of us were born in the Federation of Malaya.

The British Empire was falling apart with the countries across Asia and Africa becoming independent. In Malaya, the people had lost confidence in the British and the Communist Party of Malaya with its manifesto calling for the creation of an independent communist Malaya, embarked on a campaign of terror.

Three murders and the Emergency Begins

On 16 June 1948, shortly before 8.30 a.m. three young Communist Terrorists on bicycles arrived at the office of Elphil Estate, twenty miles east of Sungai Siput in Perak. Walking straight to the manager’s office, they shot the manager, Mr Arthur Walker, dead with two shots at point blank range and thereafter left.

Half an hour later, twelve armed Chinese surrounded the office of Mr John Allison, Manager of Sungai Siput Estate, ten miles away and apprehended him and his young 21 year old assistant, Ian Christian, and shot them to death in cold blood, while they were tied up to chairs in Mr Allison’s office. The terrified estate clerks who had witnessed those crimes were assured by one terrorist speaking in Malay not to be afraid, they were out for the Europeans and 'the running dogs'. The term, ‘running dogs’, was meant for British supporters and anyone who worked against the Communist Party of Malaya.

Meanwhile Mr Donald Wise, the Manager of Kamuning Estate, escaped death because his jeep broke down in the field and the communist terrorists became uneasy and left his office.

Thus the Communist Party of Malaya began their war on the country by trying to derail the economy of the country by acts of terrorism as they targeted remote tin mines and rubber estates, the economic backbone of the country. Managers and staff were murdered in cold blood. Workers were compelled to supply them with food and information.

Our friend Gordon's father was the manager of a rubber estate in Tanjung Malim when he was murdered by the CTs. His four year old sister was tortured and later died. Gordon's mum, brother and two other sisters had gone to Kuala Lumpur to do their Christmas shopping.

To Open the Windows One More Time

I want to open the windows of Jalan Dhoby one more time, to catch a glimpse of and to relive days long gone, and bring back for a fleeting moment, the joys and pains of loving and living with people - some who are no more and have settled into and found their niche in the memory of others, who are still around.

My older brother is Siva Prabha Krishnan. My younger sisters are Sivasree Lowings and Siva Sobha Bowe. My younger brothers are Harish Krishnan and Suresh Krishnan. The only place where all six of us have lived together is No 3, Lorong 2B Jalan Abdul Samad, the house where my youngest brother was born in December 1960.

A Chow Wah Studio Photograph taken in October 1963 before our trip to India
Clockwise starting from extreme right
Sobha, Mum Lakshmi Prasadini, Suresh, Dad P Krishnan, Harish, Sheela, Prabha, Prasanna



From extreme right: Prasanna, Sobha, Harish, Sheela, Prabha, maternal grandfather Raghavan Vaidyar, Suresh
Taken in our garden, in the morning of the day of our departure to India, 4 October 1963. We sailed on the SS Rajula - a journey of a lifetime.

"I am Sailing" sung by Rod Stewart comes to mind right now as I recall our days on board the ship as we sailed to India in 1963.

Dad was sailing back to India for the first time with his wife and children. It was his second trip home to visit his parents and family since he sailed for Malaya with his aunt as a young ten or eleven year old boy. He did not share his views or feelings with us but from all the gifts that he bought for his parents, brother and relatives, we knew that they were on his mind.

It was Mum's first trip home to India since she left as a fifteen year old with her mother and brothers to join her father who chose to remain in Malaya during the Second World War. His older brother Neelakandan and his younger brother Shankaran, left just before the outbreak of the war when war seemed imminent. Mum was a very talkative person and her infectious excitement engulfed all of us.

I can visualize my parents singing this song without ever having heard it or known Rod Stewart.


"Sailing"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1v60FITAfY

I am sailing, I am sailing,
home again 'cross the sea.
I am sailing, stormy waters,
to be near you, to be free.

I am flying, I am flying,
like a bird 'cross the sky.
I am flying, passing high clouds,
to be with you, to be free.

Can you hear me, can you hear me
thro' the dark night, far away,
I am dying, forever trying,
to be with you, who can say.

Can you hear me, can you hear me,
thro' the dark night far away.
I am dying, forever trying,
to be with you, who can say.

We are sailing, we are sailing,
home again 'cross the sea.
We are sailing stormy waters,
to be near you, to be free.

Oh Lord, to be near you, to be free.
Oh Lord, to be near you, to be free,
Oh Lord.

Crossing the Seas and Not Crossing the Seas - To Leave or to Stay

I was the first to leave home. I left in June 1970 to enter the University of Malaya, but I had dreams of coming back to JB and being with my family again although I fell in love with Kuala Lumpur, the most beautiful of cities. I had dreams of the six of us as adults and our children getting along well with each other, of going to each other's homes for the holidays. But somehow it was not to be.

In my home in Tuan Estate Pahang in 1981

All of us had a fascination for airports - Dad used to take us for drives and one of the places he took us to was the airport in Singapore, the one at Paya Lebar, which was not too far from Uncle Rajannan's house.

We did not go there to send off anyone nor to receive anyone. We were there to join in the excitement of people coming and going, watching planes landing and taking off and indulging in the sheer adrenaline flowing through us as we studied the passengers and their emotions. It gave us an impetus to want to travel and fly off to the horizon.


http://shelf3d.com/hVAsOjJZBdw
leaving on a jet plane sung by Frank Sinatra

All my bags are packed I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye
But the dawn is breakin' it's early morn
The taxi's waitin' he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh baby, I hate to go


In 1974, my sister Sheela packed her bags and left for the UK to pursue a career of her choice in a country of her choice, and her departure left a void in my life which can never be filled. Lee Foundation helped with the money for the air ticket. She knew what she wanted to do. The break was painful for all of us especially my Mum, and also my silent Dad.

Uncle Prakash was with us then, and we knew he was not well but his illness was not mentioned nor discussed and everyone gingerly skirted around the issue. Prakash himself spent many hours in our neighbour's house in the evenings. Our neighbour was a pastor who gave him a lot of support and sad to say none of us in our house gave any support to someone who had made our childhood a magical one filled with laughter.

He together with Uncle Prasad instilled in us a love for books and the arts. He bought us books and told us about the author. One book I remember and which is with Sheela is "What Katy Did Next".  I can not ever forget the smiling face nor the laughter in his voice when he spoke to us and the love that he had for his only sister, our mother.


I remember asking Prakash from the time I was quite young where the sky came down to touch the ground. He told me that it came down behind his school, Johore English College. I asked him if he had touched it. He told me that he had. I asked him what it felt like. He told me it was just like touching cotton wool. My Mum was not so romantic and told me it was rubbish.


Years later when I went to English College to do my Form Six, I strolled to the back of the school, walked along the fence, looked up at the sky and told myself that the sky might not come down behind English College for me to touch it,  but I had to a small extent, reached up to touch a part of the sky by gaining a place to study in that prestigious school, about twelve years after I had first entered the school with Prakash, when I was five years old.


Ironically, in 1973 Prakash packed his bags in London and left for Malaysia, never to return to the country he loved so much, for its music, its literature, theatre and the arts. A year later Sheela packed her bags and left Malaysia for the UK only to return after that, as a visitor.

I would say that my sister and uncle did things their way.


I Did it My Way by Frank Sinatra
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJRG1DzGs-Q

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh baby, I hate to go

I wonder if Prakash sang the above song for his girl-friend Tina when he left her and came back home.

She sent home lots of photographs that allowed us glimpses of her life away from home.

I think Mum did not want to believe and could not believe that her children were moving away from her home in Jalan Abdul Samad and charting lives of their own.

Taken in 1981 when my parents stayed with Sheela. Seated on the left holding a cup is Mrs Joan Pearce, the grandmother of Adam, Heather and Laura. She is one very special lady - our holiday in 1983 and the time spent in her home is priceless.



L-R Heather, Adam and Laura, in UK

In 1981 my youngest sister Sobha left for the UK.

In 1989 Harish moved to Australia.



My older brother Prabha, remained in JB.

My youngest brother Suresh, spent some years in Pahang and is back in JB.

All of us do not meet as often together as our hearts wish. We meet in batches here and there. To have brothers and sisters and yet to not have them near is quite tragic.

The stories of our lives will be more than a tale of a couple of cities. The times we spent together can be described as:

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way..." 
- Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Sheela was born in Johore Bahru in December 1953

When I think of Sheela I remember songs and books for she was always with the radio listening to Top of the Pops or some other music programmes or she was reading a book.

"I Believe"

I believe for every drop of rain that falls
A flower grows,
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night
A candle glows,
I believe for everyone who goes astray,
Someone will come to show the way,
I believe, I believe.

I believe above the storm a smallest prayer
Will still be heard,
I believe that someone in the great somewhere
Hears every word,
Every time I hear a newborn baby cry,
Or touch a leaf, or see the sky,
Then I know why,
I believe.

Every time I hear a newborn baby cry,
Or touch a leaf, or see the sky,
Then I know why,
I believe.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Glm8l2KzJtM



Sheela was a member of the Johore Bahru Holy Infant Jesus Convent School choir and she had the choir uniform which was a white coat-dress with gold buttons. When I went to the University, she gave me that dress.

Sheela, the ever smiling one, was born in December 1953 when I was 3 years and 5 months old and we were all living together with my maternal grandparents at 15 Jalan Dhoby Johore Bahru. I have vague memories and some clear pictures of the day she was born. She was brought back to my grandparents' house when she was about a week old.

What was happening elsewhere in the world when my sister was born? Read The Straits Times dated 20 and 21 December 1953. Click on the websites given below.

http://newspapers.nl.sg/Digitised/Issue/straitstimes19531220.aspx

The Straits Times - 20 December 1953, the day Sheela was born


http://newspapers.nl.sg/Digitised/Page/straitstimes19531221.1.1.aspx
The Straits Times 21 December 1953



Anak or Child - does not matter if the child is Asian, African or Caucasian

A song made popular by Freddie Aguilar. Do listen to the song if you have not heard it before.

"Anak" (Filipino for child or more accurately my son or my daughter) is a Tagalog song written by Filipino folk-singer Freddie Aguilar. It was a finalist for the inaugural 1977 Metropop Song Festival held in Manila. It became an international hit, and was translated into 26 languages.^[1] The lyrics speak of Filipino family values.

Anak (Child)

Freddie Aguilar

When you were born into this world
Your mom and dad saw a dream fulfilled
Dream come true, the answer to their prayers

You were to them a special child
Gave 'em joy every time you smiled
Each time you cried, they're at your side to care

Child, you don't know, you'll never know how far they'd go
To give you all their love can give
To see you through and God it's true
They'd die for you, if they must, to see you here


How many seasons came and went
So many years have now been spent
For time ran fast and now at last you're strong

Now what has gotten over you
You seem to hate your parents too
Do speak out your mind, why do you find them wrong

Child you don't know, you'll never know how far they'd go
To give you all their love can give
To see you through and God it's true
They'd die for you, if they must, to see you near


And now your path has gone astray
Child you ain't sure what to do or say
You're so alone, no friends are on your side

And child you now break down in tears
Let them drive away your fears
Where must you go, their arms stay open wide

Child you don't know, you'll never know how far they'd go
To give you all their love can give
To see you through and God it's true
They'd die for you, if they must, to see you here

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LziKlSWtFOk (Listen to Anak/Child)

I would like to share the first pictures we have of our sister Sheela, starting from the time Mum was pregnant with her. Mum would have been almost 22 and Dad ten years older, when this photograph was taken outside my grandfather's house. I see vague images of Mum being pregnant and going for her ante-natal checkups with my father.









Mum kept up with the fashion of the day - note her shoes, her watch and her spectacles - she was simply lovely! We never realised nor appreciated how young she really was. That sari she is wearing is hanging in the cupboard in the middle room of the Abdul Samad house.












The Johore Bahru General Hospital in the 1950s - where Sheela was born


Within a week of her birth, Mum would have sent a letter to India to inform all relatives and friends about the arrival of Sheela.

My paternal grandmother Meenakshi, my Dad's younger brother Uncle Sugunan and I, taken in 1977, outside my Dad's house, Nyarakkel, in Mayyanad, Kerala, where my father was born. There was constant communication via letters between my Dad's home and our home in Johore Bahru.

When I last met my paternal grandmother, I was filled with an intense sadness and could not hold back my tears. I am not given to emotional outbursts. She asked me why I was crying and I told her that I was sad to leave her. She told me to stop crying and not to be sad. I had with me only one hundred rupees. I gave it to her. And I gave her two bars of soap.

I kept thinking why, oh why do people have to part. Can't someone strong keep everyone together so that the family unit will be forever unbroken?

"Keep, keep it together
Keep people together forever and ever

I got brothers, I got some sisters too
Stuck in the middle tell you what I'm gonna do

Keep it together in the family
They're a reminder of your history
Brothers and sisters they hold the key
To your heart and your soul
Don't forget that your family is goldWhen I get lonely and I need to be
Loved for who I am, not what they want to see
Brothers and sisters, they've always been there for me
We have a connection, home is where the heart should be"

- Keep it Together sung by Madonna

The sights, sounds, smells and the feeling of nostalgia for a bygone era - Johore Bahru as I remember her...

Johore Bahru and I have become strangers but it is a love affair that cannot be erased. When I drive through the city, I glance around and there is something so inviting and exciting and something in my heart tells me that I have a part of Johore Bahru in my heart. This love started from the time I first became aware of my environment and the place has turned out so right for me. But now we are strangers, me the person and Johore Bahru the city. Wonder how it is for my sisters and brothers.


Strangers in the Night by Frank Sinatra
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlSbSKNk9f0


Johor is a Malaysian state, located in the southern portion of Peninsular Malaysia. It is one of the most developed states in Malaysia. The state capital city and royal city of Johor is Johor Bahru, formerly known as Tanjung Puteri (Malay for Princess's Cape) and Muar respectively. The old state capital is Johor Lama.


Johor is surrounded by Pahang to the north, Malacca and Negeri Sembilan to the northwest, and the Straits of Johor to the south which separates Johor and the Republic of Singapore. The state also shares a maritime border with the Riau Archipelago from the east and Riau mainland on the west by the South China Sea and the Strait of Malacca respectively, both of Indonesian territories.


Johor is also known by its Arabic honorific, Darul Ta'zim, or "Abode of Dignity", and as Johore in English.

Etymology

The name "Johor" originated from the Arabic word Jauhar, 'gem/jewel'. Malays tend to name a place after natural objects in great abundance or having visual dominance. Before the name Johor was adopted, the area south of the Muar River to Singapore island was known as Ujong Tanah or 'land's end' in Malay, due to its location at the end of the Malay Peninsula. Coincidentally, Johor is the most southern point of the Asian continental mainland.

Ref: Wikipedia

15 Jalan Dhoby - My First Home

Jalan Dhoby in those days was in the town centre and our home 15 Jalan Dhoby was in the midst of sundry shops, dhoby (laundry) shops, coffee shops (kopitiam) tailoring shops and even a carpenter's shop.



Jalan Dhoby in the early 1950s - look at the black car coming from the right, above that car is the balconey of my grandparents' house - 15 Jalan Dhoby, Johore Bahru. Look at the picture once again, at the far end of the road is a T-junction and in front of it, the old wet market of Johore Bahru.

I wonder who the people in the picture are and what stories they carried in them. I can almost see them and feel them but alas, the road is no more like the picture. As I recall and remember the days of Jalan Dhoby and Lorong 2B the song that plays in my mind is
"Try To Remember" as sung by Andy Williams



TRY TO REMEMBER
Andy Williams

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOPKL9PX2Y4

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That dreams were kept beside your pillow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That love was an ember about to billow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Although you know the snow will follow.
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Without a hurt the heart is hollow.
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
The fire of September that made us mellow.
Deep in December, our hearts should remember
And follow.



Water colour painting of Jalan Pahang. The house on the extreme right at the back, near the car, is our grandparents' house. The upstairs window facing us, is the one in grandfather's consultation room from which we got a good view of the sea. It is also from that window that washed clothes were hung on bamboo poles and left to dry, every morning. When we lived in 15 Jalan Dhoby, that was our bedroom.

Mum looking down from the balcony of 15 Jalan Dhoby. Taken in the fifties before we moved out in mid-1954. I cannot identify the other person in the picture.

View from our balcony: Uncle Prasad's friend Gopal, carrying Suresh, and Sobha standing nearby - the background shows the top floor of shophouses in front of our house.

Note the tall windows - they are like the windows in my grandparents' room and our windows were a dark green in colour. We children used to sit on the floor and let our legs dangle through the bars.

It was from those windows that we got a very good view of the annual *Chingay - held about three weeks after Chinese New Year. The whole procession would pass under those windows, for us to see and enjoy.

It is now 6.45 p.m. and I remember the evenings all of us spent together in Johore Bahru.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7tzYBLF2_U
As Tears Go By - The Rolling Stones



Chinese New Year was not New Year without children enjoying playing with firecrackers National Archives of Singapore


Setting off strings of firecrackers. This photograph does not belong to me.



Chinese New Year firecrackers - do you remember the tall building in Jalan Ibrahim, Foh Chong, once they hung long strings of firecrackers from the top to the bottom and they fired away for long minutes leaving a carpet of fine red paper on the road - long before fire-crackers were banned.

*Chingay

Chingay is an annual street parade held as part of the Lunar New Year celebrations.

The term “Chingay” is derived from the Chinese term zhuangyi, meaning “the art of masquerading”, a reference to the original stages or floats depicting religious and historical scenes that were carried in procession on the shoulders of men.

Originally a religious festival with roots in China, it is believed that 19th-century Chinese immigrants brought Chingay to Penang, which became famous for its lavish processions featuring elaborate floats and huge flags.

Chingay originated from China, where Shang Yuan Chieh, a religious festival of Taoist origin, was traditionally observed on the 15th day of the Lunar New Year to mark the start of spring. The occasion was associated with the San Kuan, the trinity of deities comprising the lords of heaven, earth and water.

It is believed that migrants from southern China brought the practice to the British settlement of Penang during the 19th century. Early sources indicate that the practice of celebrating the Lunar New Year with the Great Chingay or Thanksgiving Parade was well established in Penang by the 1880s.


Coinciding with Chingay was the religious festival devoted to the local deity Tua Pek Kong, popularly known as the God of Prosperity. The procession featured the distinctive Chingay floats. On each float were elaborate paper dolls and animals depicting religious themes and historical scenes, as well as lanterns in the shape of animals or fruit.


Big face Chinese doll seen as part of Chingay
reference:

Singapore infopedia


THE WAY WE WERE

Like all children we had our dreams. Watch the redition of I Dreamed the Dream given below, it will motivate you about dreams coming true...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk

From the time I can remember, Dad always took us to the town to view whatever was on display or show. We have gone to watch the Chinese Chingay without fail almost every year. We would leave early in the evening and park the car somewhere. Then we would walk to 15 Jalan Dhoby to have a good view. Once the procession had passed our house and was headed back to the temple and the crowd had dispersed, we would head for the car, tired but glad and wait for the next Chingay to come.

During the Sultan's birthday and Merdeka Day, we would go to some place that gave us a good view of the colourful floats and enjoy the fireworks. In the fifties, Dad would take us to the town padang which I seem to remember as being somewhere near the Post Office and I have seen the joget girls on the stage and the men dancing with them.

Sometimes the circus would come to town and you can be sure Dad would take all of us to the circus. There was always something happening in town and we would be there. And so our childhood passed with us joining all the others in celebration and our love for this country grew. It was strong enough for our parents to decide that taking all of us and going to India was not a viable option for we would be strangers in the land of our parents.

If there were no circus shows or stage shows like the Chinese Wayang, then Dad would take us to visit places like the Kota Tinggi Waterfalls, Jason's Bay, Kluang, Air Hitam or Segamat. We never really visited anyone's home, just went for the drive, ate in a Chinese shop and returned home.

There were certain movies that Dad chose for us to view. He has taken us to see Spartacus, Ben Hur, The Greatest Show on Earth, King of Kings and The Guns of Navorone. We rarely went for Tamil or Hindi movies. He would take Mum for those movies and sometimes they went for the midnight shows. At other times Mum would go by bus with Sulo's mother for the 3.00 p.m. show and tell us to inform Dad when he came back and he would go and fetch them from Rex or Lido.

During the school hoidays, if we did not go anywhere for any form of activity, we made our own Happy Family Cards and five stones and played amongst ourselves. We spent a lot of time reading story books and Sulo used to lend us her books which she got from her cousins. Sulo had loads of relatives and during the holidays her house was filled with guests and she would go off to Kluang or Muar or Singapore for the holidays.

Today as I sit here with the memories I remember that my mother did not like cats but our grandmother loved cats. I am indifferent to cats but I love the songs from Cats, so do sing along as you read on.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhlJZdQDz5E

Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight
The withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan

It was often way past midnight that we went to bed when Prakash and Gabriel came for the weekend. We would sit on the stone seats outside and there was not a sound from any of the other houses. We would look out for shooting stars and listen to stories shared among sisters and brothers. Little did we realise that moments once gone may never come back and that Prakash would not be with us forever.

Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember
The time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again

One day when I visited parents in JB, in 1980 I think because grandmother was alive, I felt the need to record the family's history. Armed with a tape recorder, Suresh, Sobha and Mother we drove to 15 Jalan Dhoby.

It was a hilarious session with both grandfather and Uncle Samy wanting to be the person authenticating the events. Unfortunately, the tape recorder did not work. Today as I write this I want the memories of those days to live again.

Every street lamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning
Someone mutters at the street lamp gutters
And soon it will be morning


Remember Mother waiting at the lamp post near Seah's house when it was past nine and Annan had not come back home. She would keep a watch and not budge. Sometimes she would tell us that he would come when he wished. When she met him, she would be angry but until his arrival she was never angry only totally worried. Today my son goes out at eleven, saying that that is when the 'happening' things start to happen.

For her 57th birthday I took parents to The Ship, a restaurant in Penang which had a disco upstairs - some heavy metal music and they sang a birthday song for her at the stroke of midnight. She enjoyed herself and I told her that she need not have worried about Annan and the boys going out. She told me to wait for Roy to grow up and go out and see how I would wait for him, worried out of my brains. I wish now that she had not been a prophetess!

Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
A street lamp dies, another night is over
Another day is dawning

Touch me
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with my memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is
Look a new day has begun

Our Footsteps Still Echo on Some of the Roads of Johore Bahru

The front door of my grandparents' house opened into Jalan Pahang although our postal address was Jalan Dhoby.

The balcony on the right is the balcony of my grandparents' house, as it is today with cars parked everywhere.

This picture does not belong to me.

 

There are times when sleep eludes me at night and I lie awake thinking of 15 Jalan Dhoby and the people whose voices I can hear. When I think of lying next to my grandma on a straw mat, looking at her back, I am reassured and I find myself drifting off to sleep.

Take me home to the place Jalan Dhoby, I belong to that place.

 

Country Roads by John Denver

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWzeInQaUk4

Looking down from the balconey of my grandparents' house, you will see Jalan Pahang, the short road leading to Jalan Ibrahim, the road in front of the sea. Before reaching Jalan Ibrahim, there is small cross-roads junction. You turn right or left and the road is Jalan Tan Hiok Nee. And the building at the junction has a balconey but a very elaborate one, compared to the simple, plain one in our grandparents' house.


The road you see is Jalan Tan Hiok Nee

Whenever our birthdays came round, Dad would go to the same bakery in Tan Hiok Nee and get us a plain butter cake with cherries but no icing. That bakery is one relic that has not been swallowed up by time.

 

There was a sari shop in Jalan Tan Hiok Nee, which was not as popular as Govindasamy's Sari Shop at Jalan Dhoby. The last time I visited that shop was with Mum and we bought some small items including the stick-on pottu.

Hiap Joo Bakery where our simple birthday day cakes came from year after year until the seventies. We enjoyed every crumb of those cakes with a few big red cherries on top and no icing of any sort. Today this bakery is famous for its banana cakes.

This photograph does not belong to me.

 

Now Who was Tan Hiok Nee?

I wanted to know more about the people who had walked the same roads in Johore Bahru a hundred years before me and left their names on the roads for us. I was walking in their footsteps. I wanted a face for each one of them. Who were they, I constantly asked myself?

 

With them in mind I am including the information below, for all of us migrants and natives alike, share a common destiny - because for a moment in time, our roots met and merged and then went their separate ways, charting out their own individual destinies.

Tan Hiok nee (1827-1902) who succeeded Tan Kee Soon as the leader of the Ngee Heng Kongsi, transformed the Kongsi from a military revolutionary brotherhood based in rural Kangkar into an organization of Kapitans, Kangchus and revenue farmers based in Johore Bahru, the capital of the state of Johore.

Tan Hiok Nee

Jalan Wong Ah Fook

Once in while we would get permission from Mum to go to town and do lots of window shopping, buy an item or two, have an afternoon out with our friends and eat ice-kachang.

One of the more popular roads was Jalan Ah Fook with its numerous shops and its foul-smelling Sungai Segget that hardly moved, and was littered with all sorts of waste by a population that did not care for the environment.

Mum used to tell us of the only time she could recall our grandfather caning Uncle Prakash. After school, together with some of his friends he would go swimming in the filth. Nothing would stop him so grandfather finally resorted to the cane and those swimming sessions ended, or so we all believe.

Today you will not recognize Jalan Wong Ah Fook. Where have all the Chinese gone, long while ago, when will they ever come, when will they ever come? It is milling with foreigners - why have they come, why have they ever come?

 

Sungai Segget was the only river we had seen for a long long time. By the river Segget we have walked many times. Once I met my old school mate Magespathy and her slipper had fallen into the river. She was most distraught and I did not help her but her tortured face has haunted me to this day. We were too poor to buy her a pair of slippers. We were too scared to have jumped into the river to retrieve her slipper. We left her there. Someone was with me and I wonder if it was Sheela or Sulo.  From that day onwards, I have always tried to reach out to everyone who has sought my help.

 

By the Rivers of Babylon by Boney M

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGyfxOCYvtM

Sungai Segget, 1955

This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

 

Who was Wong Ah Fook?

Wong Ah Fook (1837-1918) was a Chinese Cantonese immigrant, entrepreneur and philanthropist who left his mark in Johore. He started off as a carpenter, moved into building construction and worked his way up to become the main government building contractor who built many of Johore's heritage buildings including the royal palace of the Sultan of Johore, in front of the Straits of Johore.
 

He diversified into pepper and gambier planting, started the first Chinese bank in Malaya, the Kwong Yik Bank, and was the founder of the Kwong Siew Wui Koon - the association for the Cantonese.
 

In 1892 the Sultan of Johore granted him some land on the east bank of Sungai Segget, which came to be known as Kampung Wong Ah Fook, and was mainly occupied by Cantonese. The main road is named after him and the three smaller roads Jalan Siu Nam, Jalan Siu Koon and Jalan Siu Chin were named after his three sons. The son who was best known was his fourth son Dato S. Q.
Wong, a lawyer and member of the State Council of Johore before and after the war.
 

Ref

"Past and Present Juxtaposed: The Chinese of Nineteenth Century Johor."
by Datin Paduka P. Lim Pui Huen

Wong Ah Fook

Jalan Ah Siang

We never went there by ourselves but Dad would drive us to Stulang Laut and it was one of the more prominent roads there. We would drive near the jetty and also look at the power station across the sea, in Singapore.


Lim Ah Siang was a Ngee Heng Kongsi leader who was second in rank after Tan Hiok Nee. He had a number of businesses in Johore Bahru - a pawnshop, properties and concessions for logging. As head of Ngee Heng, he was in frequent contact with the Chief Minister/Menteri Besar Dato Jaafar ( remember the secondary school for boys, Dato Jaafar) and the two soon became close friends.


In 1892 he received a grant of land in Stulang from the Sultan of Johore Sultan Abu Bakr which allowed him to open a kampung. He built a main road through his land and named it Jalan Ah Siang. He got the rights of a revenue farmer and his gambling farm was built on stilts over the sea in front of New Hong Kong Restaurant.

Lim Ah Siang

Jalan Ngee Heng

How can we ever forget Jalan Ngee Heng? Going home from grandparents' house in Jalan Dhoby, Dad would often go home to Abdul Samad via Jalan Ngee Heng. The army barracks was in Majidee.
 

Many of my Chinese friends also stayed in squatter-type houses along this road. And our tailor lived there and we used to go to her place so often with some fabric to make a dress. Then there was the Ngee Heng primary school where Mrs Lilly M B Dass was a teacher. The road is also a reminder of the only roundabout in old Johore Bahru town.
 

Who or what is Ngee Heng?

Ngee Heng Kongsi ( patnership) was a Teochew secret society that founded the oldest Chinese settlement in Johore which has a respectable place in the history of Johore Chinese. On 1st February 1913 the Ngee Heng Kongsi founded the Foon Yew School in Johore Bahru with other Chinese personalities. Its first Manager was Wong Ah Fook and the Deputy Manager was Lim Ah Siang. Today there are 5 Foon Yew primary schools with a total enrolment of over 11,000 students. My young nephew Daniel Ray Suresh studies in Foon Yew Primary School in Jalan Abdul Samad. He is in Standard 4 (2012).

The first Foon Yew school at the Jalan Dhobi and Jalan Trus intersection in Johor Baru
Read more: For the love of Chinese culture and tradition - Johor - New Straits Times http://www.nst.com.my/streets/johor/for-the-love-of-chinese-culture-and-tradition-1.160574#ixzz2GK42JflZ

I first heard of Foon Yew when our neighbour told us that her children Sau Siah, Sau Meng and Sau Leng were studying in Foon Yew. They were our neighbours when we lived at 100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama.
 

Johore Bahru Old Chinese Temple along Jalan Trus

Walking along Jalan Trus, you cannot miss the old Chinese Temple which is one of the oldest buildings in Johore Bahru. It is a place of worship and a symbol of unity among the Teochew, Hokkien, Cantonese, Hakka and Hainan Chinese Dialect Groups.



Where Have All The Flowers Gone

Peter, Paul and Mary

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1QZq-wKaBWc

Translation in progress. Please wait...

Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Young girls have picked them everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?

Where have all the young girls gone, long time passing?
Where have all the young girls gone, long time ago?
Where have all the young girls gone?
Gone for husbands everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?

Where have all the husbands gone, long time passing?
Where have all the husbands gone, long time ago?
Where have all the husbands gone?
Gone for soldiers everyone
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?

Where have all the soldiers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards, everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?

Where have all the graveyards gone, long time passing?
Where have all the graveyards gone, long time ago?
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Gone to flowers, everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?

Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Young girls have picked them everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?


Where have all the hawkers gone?





Hawkers carrying their mouth-watering ware using a kandar stick which they balanced on their shoulders as they hunched and walked in a dancing gait with their food, from place to place - they would sit on a wooden stool and serve their customers. Unfortunately my Mum had come from India and was very fussy about what we got to eat. I missed out on something great by not having sampled such food.

Where Have All My Iceball Men Gone?


















Remember Bee Hoon's sundry shop in front of the Convent and how we used to save 5cents to buy the addictive iceball after school. It would have some red sugar syrup and some boiled red beans in the middle. The vendor would give it to us on a piece of newspaper.

Where Have All My Kachang Puteh Men Gone?


http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4270544749004657709#editor/target=post;postID=4693258122251648019


The kachang puteh man plying his trade along Jalan Ibrahim and the other roads did not have a bicycle. He had a wooden stool with sides and placed jars of fried nuts and Indian snacks. He would carry the stool on his head as he walked the streets. He would also have a small bauxite light so that we could see what we were buying. He would place the stool on the ground and it would be the ideal height for us children. We paid him about ten cents for a paper cone filled with kachang. He could make the longest cones that I have seen.

Where Have All Old The Roti Men Gone?




Our Roti Man would come at about 4 in the evening and ring his bell as he passed the houses. Mum would often tell us to look out for him. We would buy coconut buns, kaya buns, curry buns and sugee biscuits. Nalini's father would on his pension day, buy a cake for Suresh from the Roti Man.

Our regular vendor came from Utar Pradesh and was a very handsome man. Today his son sells bread along Lorong 2B. I remember that their bakery was near my room-mate Selva's old house. During the festive season, Selva and sisters would make their cake batter and bake them at their bakery. Those were the days when most of our homes did not have an oven, for the kind of cooking that our mums did, did not require an oven.

Where Are All The Ice-Cream Vendors Carrying Flasks?

Some used flasks to store their ice-cream as they walked on the streets, selling ice-cream.



The Milo Van still comes to School

Our Currency

In those days my Dad could go to the market with ten dollars and come home with two bags full of food for the week and he would have some change as well. I have never seen the thousand dollar note, it was outside our league.


The Landmarks of the Johore Bahru of our childhood






The Government Office has not changed but our perception of it as a huge and imposing building, the definite landmark of Johore Bahru, has changed. Now you miss it most times, as you drive in old Johore Bahru. Its official name is Sultan Ibrahim Building but all of us referred to it as the Government Office building.

I would like to state that the pictures of the currency, firecrackers, the movable 'cafe' and the government office, were not taken by me. They do not belong to me. I managed to contact one person who has allowed me to use his pictures of Sallehudin Bakery. Acknowledgement will be made at the end.




The Mariamman Temple (very colourful today) above, was a Hindu temple near our grandparents' house that we used to visit very often in the evenings with Grandma. We used to sit on the steps and speak very softly so as to not disturb the tranquility of that temple.

It was neither crowded nor elaborate but a simple place of worship with lots of open space within. Whenever we stood in front of the Durga/Kali shrine and see her with some intestines in her mouth, Grandma would tell us some gruesome stories that would immediately quieten us.

Aunty Subadhra my mother's cousin, my maternal grandmother Lakshmi Narayani, my mother Lakshmi Prasadini and aunty Subadhra's son Suni - taken around 1964 - enjoying a good laugh! My grandma because of her inability to cook made our childhood special because we got to choose what we wanted to eat and someone would get the food from Kerala Restaurant along Jalan Ibrahim




Landmarks in our minds

When walking to the railway station in the mid-fifties, to play on the swings and slides, or to the Causeway to enter Singapore, or to walk home to Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama from Jalan Dhobi, you had to pass the big Police Station. It is still there, quite insignificant in the midst of today's chaotic traffic and multitude of foreign workers milling around.




















From our Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama house we could see the train arriving from Tanjong Pagar Station in Singapore - we would then walk down to the station and meet Uncle Karunakaran who visited us most weekends. Today the Tanjong Pagar Station is no more and is the property of Singapore.























The Johore Bahru railway station was pure magic in the early fifties - there was a children's play ground on the right (when you face the station) with swings, slides and see-saws. Mum would be with us as we played and Dad would cross the road to the stalls in front of the station, and buy Kaka (Malayali Muslim) fried meehoon and hot goreng pisang/banana fritters for us.

Remembering the railways, I remember the nameless, faceless Indians who had come as indentured labour to work on the roads and railways of Malaya. Many of them were illiterate and found it impossible to remain in contact with the families they had left behind in India. The majority who never made it back to India, lost all ties with their families in India and this country is the only home they have.

Working on the Railroad

I've been workin' on the railroad,
All the live long day.
I've been workin' on the railroad,
Just to pass the time away.
Don't you hear the whistle blowing?
Rise up so early in the morn.
Don't you hear the captain shouting
"Dinah, blow your horn?"

Dinah, won't you blow,
Dinah, won't you blow,
Dinah, won't you blow your horn?
Dinah, won't you blow,
Dinah, won't you blow,
Dinah, won't you blow your horn?

Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah.
Someone's in the kitchen, I know.
Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah
Strumming on the old banjo.
Fee, fie, fiddle-e-i-o.
Fee, fie, fiddle-e-i-o-o-o-o.
Fee, fie, fiddle-e-i-o.
Strumming on the old banjo.

cancel

Years later during my university days in Kuala Lumpur in the early seventies, everytime the train pulled out of the station, taking me and Selva to KL I would sing, out of tune of course:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDjO7F60wiY
A Place in the Sun by Stevie Wonder

Like a long lonely stream
i keep running towards a dream
moving on
moving on

like the branch of a tree
i keep reaching to be free
moving on
moving on

there's a place in the sun
and before my life is done
gotta find me a place in the sun...




Singpore was an integral part of our lives - nearly all our relatives lived in Singapore. The Johore Bahru Customs checkpoint in the early fifities made entering and leaving Singapore so very easy, with no passports or stringent checks.


Singapore to us was not a country but just a city where my father worked, our relatives lived and where we went to do our shopping. The Chinese and Indians there were no different from the Chinese and Indians living in Johore. We did not know any Malay in Singapore and therefore cannot comment about them.



The Causeway in the fifties - from Woodlands looking towards Johore Bahru




Gone are the shops of Manthan the carpenter. He was called Manthan but his real name was Wong Mun Fatt.Gone is Bharat Store. Gone is Keng's coffee shop. Gone is the shop of Chow Wah Sing the tailor.




Our holiday in Voules Estate in Segamat in 1962 when we stayed with the Zachariah family - the surroundings were not so different as shown in the picture



Time has stood still to beckon us once again

One shop which has remained unchanged until today, holding tight, the uncut umbilical cord binding us forever to the JB of the 50s - is an Indian bakery.

From the balconey of my grandparents' home, we got a good view of the bakery which came alive everyday in the wee hours before dawn, to fill the entire street with the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked bread.


Restaurant name: Salahuddin Bakery

Address: 26 Jalan Dhoby, Bandar Johor Bahru, 80000 Johor Bahru

My brother's favourite mouth-watering curry puffs


Handmade bread of the fifties

Traditional oven


Before the days of sliced bread - crusty on the outside and soft and inviting on the inside


Bread and cakes waiting to be sold - the man in the picture is from the same family that started this bakery at the turn of the twentieth century.

Note: Mahaguru58 gave me permission to use the photographs taken by him



The solid red pillar boxes of yesteryears have disappeared from the streets of Johore Bahru.













Nee Soon Post Office in Singapore - an old colonial building

Atbara House, Gallop Road (1898-Present)

It was built in 1898 by architect Alfred John Bidwell (1869-1918), who was also the designer of Raffles Hotel, Stamford House and Goodwood Park Hotel. The two-storey house possesses a distinctive red roof and whitewashed walls that are still in a considerably good shape today, although some parts of the house have exposed their neglected conditions since the French embassy moved to another location in 1999.
http://remembersingapore.wordpress.com/2012/02/08/grand-mansions-bungalows-villas-of-the-past/


The Arrival of my sister Sheela

Now that you have an idea about the setting - Johore Bahru and Singapore in the fifties and the activities and people who gave that place its peculiar character, we come back to Sheela and the year that she was born.

Before we moved out of our grandparents' house, my parents, older brother and I, stayed in the room that later became my grandfather's consultation room.

It was a small room with two sets of windows and two doors. One door led to the small living room and was always kept open. One door opened up to the narrow passage way that led to the front door of the house, leading downstairs. If you were to stand at the door leading to the hall and look into the room, you would be facing a window. That window gave a view of the sea (and Jalan Pahang that leads to Jalan Ibrahim, the road in front of the sea-side).

One morning, my parents dressed up early in the morning and were ready to go off somewhere. I was not dressed to go out and that meant, I was going to be left behind. I do not remember my brother making a fuss about wanting to do anything. He was an ideal older brother.


I shadowed my mother holding on to her sari. I do not remember my grandmother doing anything out of the ordinary that morning. My grandfather was coming around me trying to carry me but I refused to go to him. My uncles had gone to school. Mum, in order to pacify me, told me that she would take me along. But, I refused to let go of her sari.


When my parents reached the door leading downstairs, my father walked down first. Mum stood at the top of the stairs and removed my clinging fingers and called out to her father, to take me away from her. I screamed at that rejection and felt my grandfather lifting me from behind, turning me around and holding me close to his chest. In his usual gentle way, he told me that they were going to the hosptal. When I continued to struggle and lean towards my mother, he told me that he was going to give me a big green apple. I stopped struggling and looked at him.



He was wearing a white veshti and a white sleeveless singlet, his usual attire when in the house. He said the apple was on the dining table and asked if I wanted it. I said yes. He told my mother to leave, told someone to close the door and led me to the dining table.


There was no apple on the table. I asked him for the apple and he told me instead, that my parents were going to the doctor, to be a good child and to play quietly. I remember feeling that I had been tricked and it was not a good feeling. I did not cry and I do not remember anything else about that day.


My next clear memory is of playing in the hospital grounds with my brother and my grandparents. It was early evening. As soon as I spotted my father I ran to him. He had in his hands a bag and inside the bag was my mother's sari rolled up into a ball. It was an orange coloured nylex sari. I held my father's hand as he spoke briefly to my grandparents. They hardly spoke to each other and my Dad always answered in monosyllables at the best of times.


From the hospital grounds we walked along the sea front until we reached home. My grandparents held my brother's hand and I held my father's hand. My grandparents never stopped talking to each other and to my brother. My walk was mostly in silence but I loved the sea and never felt the need to speak when enjoying the sea-side.


I remember the cot in the room. My baby sister whom everyone called Sheela slept in the cot. My grandfather gave her, her daily bath on a Chinese metal enamel flat tray, that was to be found in most homes.



Picture of the kind of multi-purpose flat metal enamelled tray that we used in our home

The new cot bought for my sister was covered with a white mosquito net. My sister would sleep peacefully and both my brother and I would play quietly, often under her cot, and not wake her up.

She was a gentle baby who was much loved by everyone and especially my grandparents. She was always carried by them and my uncles. I believe that would have been a great help for my mother who now had to care for three young children, when she was little more than a child herself.

Sheela - 6 months old







When my sister was about six months old, our family moved out of our grandparents' house into a room in a huge old house that belonged to a Chinese family. The man who got that room for us was known as Kunju Kannan Master. He was called Master because he used to be a French teacher when he was in India. His family used the main room on the second floor.

Mr Kunju Kanan Master and wife with their older son Narendran taken in the early fifties. Narendran and my brother Prabha are the same age.

We occupied two rooms. One was our bedroom, our dining room and living room all rolled into one. The other one had a stove and mum stored cooking utensils, cutlery and crockery there. She rarely cooked and a tiffin would arrive from Purushotaman's shop everyday at about 11 in the morning.


I often wonder how my mum tolerated living within the confines of a room with no one to talk to the whole day. Most of the other tenants were Chinese and languge was a barrier in those days. Mum in India was used to a large garden made even larger because there were no fences. She was given the freedom to roam with her friends from one end of the village to another and she was never encumbered with housework.


When you entered the house the first thing you would notice was a big brass urn that was used to burn incense sticks. The whole house had the smell of Chinese incense and joss sticks. The Chinese landlords rarely spoke to us and neither do I remember us speaking to them.

Once you passed the big urn and the burning joss sticks, you would come to a dark wooden stairway on the right end of the room. As you proceeded to climb the staircase, you would slowly get used to the darkness and the feeling of decay that permeated that old building that housed both Indian and Chinese immigrants who needed a place to stay before securing a permanent home. I got the feeling that nobody was permanently going to be there which in part could be because of Mum constantly telling us that we would be moving to a good, clean home soon.


A Chinese brass urn that was used to burn incense

My brother and I would sit on the one table in the room when Mum fed us. On Fridays, there would be sweet payasam for us. We were happy but I do not think my mother ever really liked living in the dark, dingy house where there were all sorts of creepy crawlies.

In the evenings Mum would carry Sheela in her arms while my brother and I played on the five-foot path outside the house. We would play with little stones and just run around in circles.

Next to the house where we lived, lived a Chinese tailor who sewed such beautiful clothes for us. She would sew in her house. Next to the sewing machine was a table stacked with fashion magazines. One of the more popular magazines was Lana Lobell. Mum would allow me to choose the pattern. The tailor would then advise Mum if the choice was a good one. Most times she would choose a pattern and convince me that it was the perfect choice.


Sometimes in the evening, a satay seller would come by and set up his stall outside the tailor's shop, along the five-foot path. Accompanying him would be his beautiful wife from Sumatera. I remember her beautiful long hair and she would sometimes carry Sheela and talk to mother. Then one day she informed Mum that she had got some bit parts in a Malay Pontianak movie. She too, like my mother, often talked about going back to her homeland when they had saved enough money.


Then one day, to her intense horror, Mum spotted a centepede on the floor. It swiftly crawled under the bed where we slept and was not to be seen.

Mum placed my brother and me on the table and she sat with my sister Sheela on her lap, until Dad returned from work. She was so afraid of it biting us and hurting us, and she herself was terrrified of it.




Dad and Master searched for the evasive centepede in vain. They moved the bed to the middle of the room and searched all the four corners of the room. Soon after that we moved out of that house.

It was also during that time that my grandfather noticed something unusual about my sister's urine. She had urinated on the floor of my grandfather's house and it went unnoticed. Hours later my grandfather noticed white specks and he told my mother to leave Sheela with them while he treated her. My brother and I remained at home with Mum and Dad.

My sister stayed with my grandparents for several months. Since she was too young to play with us, we did not miss her so much. It was during those months that my grandmother developed her life-long close attachment to Sheela.




My grandma always had a framed picture of Sheela on the chest of drawers in the living room of her house. My sister was in her Convent school uniform, wearing dark rimmed glasses.

The school photograph below is very similar to what our school photographs of the sixties would have looked like - the same Holy Infant Jesus uniforms and the Caucasian nuns in their habits.



At last we moved out of that dreadful house and experienced the freedom of living in a single storey house with the freedom to step out of the door and be outside the house. The entire row of houses have been pulled down and I have been unable to procure any photographs of those houses.

We moved to 100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama, and we were the first occupants of that house. It was a brick house with a living room, two bedrooms, a kitchen, an open yard next to the kitchen and a bathroom and toilet. It was compact, neat and clean. There were no more fears of creepy crawlies, dark cob-web filled staircases and unfriendly strangers.

Mum sewed beautiful curtains for the front window of the house. The curtains hung on a piece of spring that was attached to both sides of the window. The curtains covered only two thirds of the window, letting in lots of sunlight. She also loved to crochet and made lovely doilies and placemats for the tables.








Uncle Anandhan and Aunty Indira stayed with us after their wedding in the mid-fifties. Uncle had a bicycle which he used to lean against the window. One day Sheela knocked the bicycle down and it fell on her and hurt her. Dad asked Uncle to keep the bicycle tied to the window in future. Soon after that they moved out and rented a room in a house occupied by Chinese, part of a shop. Mum was upset that they did not inform her until the day they moved.





Number 100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama was the first house in a row of two houses and three shops. The first two were similar houses. After the second house, you went down two steps and there was a shop house. It was occupied by Sime Darby. It was their warehouse. Big trucks would come bringing stuff packed in boxes. Chinese coolies would be bent almost double carrying the loads on their backs into the shop.

One item I remember is Wincarnis. Everytime my mother had a baby, my father would buy Wincarnis for her, to help her regain her strength and health.




Each bottle of Wincarnis would come with a maroon plastic cup. There were days when bottles of Wincarnis would be broken. Some men would hold the bottle in one hand and smash it against the drain. The top end with the unbroken seal had to be returned to the company in Singapore. The maroon plastic cups would be given to us and we had quite a collection of Wincarnis cups in our house.

Next to Sime Darby was a shop that made coconut sweets. It was a hard, dark brown, cylindrical shaped sweet that you had to suck on to get the flavour of cocnut and sugar. Each sweet was wrapped in colourful celophane paper.


On the days when the sweets were being made, all of us would get the lovely smell of boiling coconut milk and sugar. We would go to the door of the the shop and the workers would invite us in and give us a handful of sweets each. You can still buy such sweets in some Chinese sundry shops.


The last shop in that row was a shop that made balloons. They were long thin strings of rubber tubes, covered with a white powder.

Just as in the sweet shop, we would go to the balloon shop and the workers would give us a few balloons each. Blowing the balloons was impossible until one of them showed us how to do it.


We had to put the end without the opening into our mouths and suck in the air and make a tiny blown balloon bit in our mouth, then we had to hold the part near our lips tight and not let any air escape before taking it out of our mouth. The next step was to place the opening of the balloon in our mouth and blow really hard and see the long balloon taking shape. Once the whole length of balloon had filled out, we made a dead knot at the end. The men then showed us how to create different shapes by twisting the balloon in various ways. That kept us occupied as well.



Those were safe days when we could roam up and down the five-foot path from our house, the first house to the balloon shop, the last shophouse in that row. Those were happy days as we discovered the free world we lived in. Mum would open the front door when she woke up and the door was not shut until the household went to sleep at night.

Some 58 years later, that is about 2 weeks ago, end of March 2012, when I asked Sheela what she remembered of those days, she wrote to me saying,


"Thank goodness you can write descriptively and have the energy and motivation to sit before your computer and do so. I love reading them and it jogs my memory. The clogs or 'kah-teh' as we used to call them were beautiful in their red colors. Later in life I remember associating them with our "Aachi' who washed our clothes."



That triggers the memory of the old washboards that were used for washing clothes.


Filmlet on TV in 1973 for the "Water is Precious" campaign. Photo credit: National Archives of Singapore.

 Sheela told me "I really wanted to be a washerwoman when I was young, at some stage in my life, as it looked such fun to wash clothes in that big basin and pour all that amount of water down the drain. Maybe that's why I loved those Enid Blyton books on the Far Away Tree as it had a washerwoman in it who would empty the water down the tree. Now of course, we would not dream of wasting water like that and would recycle that used water for the garden."


"Will continue searching my memory - oh yes, Father used to drive around looking for those particular leaves for mother to make that particular appam that was cone shaped and she would stick a match stick thro the leaves to hold it together. I can actually smell it and taste it now. Pity we did not write these recipes down."

Making therali appam
http://attukalpongala.blogspot.com/2010/03/making-therali-appam.html

Mum called the appams, vayanela appam referring to the vayan leaves that were used to make that appam. The pictures below show how they are made.

It was Dad's duty to get the leaves for Mum. He would take my older brother and go in search of the tree that grew wild near our house. He would bring back lots of leaves and sort out the ones that could be used.


Mum would mix the batter and we would clean the leaves for her and help to shape them into cones and Mum would fill each cone with the batter and secure each cone with a tooth-pick. She would tell us stories of how they made the appams in India and how all the relatives would gather to help make them.

In the meantime a large vessel of water would be boiling and the steamer would be in place waiting for the appams to be steamed.




Roll the vayana leaf to a conical shape and fill with dough

Place the filled cones in a steam cooker


Steam cook for twenty minutes and therali is ready


"I watched a tv show called "2 greedy Italians' and it's about these 2 middleaged guys travelling thro Italy and wanting to know if the young ladies and men know how to cook as previously the grandmothers used to teach them.They are worried too that the old recipes would disappear forever," continued Sheela.



My Frightened Little Sister

Sheela had a great fear of the Punjabi security guard who would set up his bed at night at the front door of Sime Darby. Before seven in the evening, he would drag out his charpoy and get ready to assume his duty of night-guard.



The charpoy, a bed made from a wooden frame with taut woven "ropes", is the most functional and versatile piece of furniture of indian rural life to meditate, eat, sit, rest, play... pic taken in 1933


The Punjabi night-watchman would sit on his bed and remove his turban. Then he would literally let his hair down and it uncoil into a mass of long flowing hair that reached his hips. Next he would do something to his beard and it would come to rest just above his stomach. He would remove his shirt and be in his singlet.

He would look around and if he would spy us, he would make a grunting sound. Once the man arrived Sheela would not come out of the house, such was her fear. Mum has always taken pity on the old watchman and given him some food.

Uncle Anandan who had an infectious sense of humour came home late at night and stopped by the watchman's bed to have his daily chat. There was no response from the still figure on the bed. He rushed to the house and informed us that the watchman had died. Mum urged him to call the ambulance. Uncle ran to the railway station to make the 999 call.

The screaming ambulance screeched to a halt and when the man was carried up to be placed on the stretcher, it was a very irritated, screaming watchman who startled everyone by struggling to his feet in anger. He had had some drinks and was dead to the world when uncle had tried speaking to him earlier in the evening. Uncle was soundly scolded by both the ambulance driver and the watchman.


It was while we were staying in 100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama that Sobha was born and Sheela was no longer the youngest in the family. Mum had her hands full and she often placed the infant Sobha on Aunty Indira's bed so that she could get on with her housework. That is how Aunty Indira formed her great love for Sobha.

When Uncle Anandhan and Aunty Indira moved out of 100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama, another family moved into their room. His name was Krishna Pillay and her name was Ratnammah. They had two children, Prabha and Devadas. A few months later, we moved to Bukit Chagar a far cry from Lumba Kuda and the Chinese.

In Bukit Chagar, there was no metallic road leading to the front of the house. The neighbours were Malays and further away in the railway quarters there were Indians. We have good memories of living in the Kampung style house amidst the Malays, although initially we could not adapt to the rural atmosphere of Bukit Chagar.

Taken in 1958 in Bukit Chagar, when Mum was pregnant with Harish. Aunty Ratnammah on the left and Mum on the right. Left to right, front row: Devadas, Prabha, Sobha and Sheela. In the background is Safiah's house. That was the most idyllic place where we have stayed - open space, gentle Malay neighbours, bamboo fences and nature unspoilt. Sheela and Prabha are the same age. Note the rural setting.

Soon after we moved in, Uncle Krishna Pillay, a clever handyman, built two chicken coops, one for his family and one for us and then some hens and cockerels were brought in. It was our duty to feed the chickens in the morning and evening. After a period of time, the hens began to lay eggs but not always in the coop. When the hen had laid an egg and announced it to the whole world, Sheela, my brother and I would run around to search for the egg. It was fun.


Photo Shoots at Chow Wah Photo Studio and at home - the different faces/phases of Sheela




















Sobha and Sheela in late 1958 taken at the Studio



old studio camera

Sobha and Sheela taken in late 1959 at our house in Bukit Chagar

Sheela on the chair and left to right: Sobha, Prasanna and Harish, taken in 1959

Sheela when she was not well and stayed at our grandparents' house - January 1961

Unlike us, she was a very gentle and easily frightened child. She would cry easily and she would laugh just as easily.

Not sure where this is taken

Sheela, Suresh and Sobha 1961 in Jalan Abdul Samad

Appappan

Appapan as we called him was our grandfather's paternal uncle. He had come to Malaya soon after the end of the First World War and worked in Singapore. To the best of our knowledge he was not officially married though it was common knowledge that he had taken a common-law Chinese wife and had a child.

 

During the Second World War, he was given up for dead after he was captured by the Japanese and taken to work on the Siam Railway. He survived and came back months after the war had ended. He had horrendous stories to tell which our parents did not allow us children to listen to.

 

 

He smoked the bidi, wore a white shirt and khaki shorts and slippers. He was not very friendly but neither was he very unfriendly. When we lived in Bukit Chagar he got into a routine of walking to our house from Jalan Dhoby and taking his lunch with us. After lunch he would lay out a mat and take his afternoon nap in the hall. In the evening he would go back to Jalan Dhoby.

bidi

Something about his visits annoyed my Mum after a while. One day she spoke to Aunt Ratnammah about it and referred to him as 'pishashu' which more or less translates to devil. Unfortunately Appapan had heard this conversation. Instead of stepping inside the kitchen as he usually did, he decided to sit on the swing under the house. Sheela went up to him calling out, "Appapan" and he gave her a slap on the face.

 

My terrified sister screamed and ran back to the kitchen. The ladies ran outside. Appapan meanwhile had lost his anger and was quite contrite. Mum was angry and Aunty Ratnammah gave her silent supportt to Mum. I was the silent witness to the drama.

 

That evening Mum went to my grandfather's house and thus ended Appapan's visit to our house for lunch. However, after we moved to Lorong 2B, he visited us occasionally.

L-R: Dad, Sobha, Uncle Raghavan (father of Suni and husband of Aunty Subhadra, Appapan and Uncle Kamalan

The sleeping arrangements in Bukit Chagar

There were two bedrooms in the house in Bukit Chagar. My parents, Sheela and Sobha used the first room. Uncle and Aunty used the second room. My brother and I slept on mats on the floor of the second living room outside the bedrooms. Prabha and Devadas slept on a bed also in the hall.

 

During the rainy season, the sound of rain falling on the zinc roof was music to our ears, the temperatures would drop and it would become chilly. Ocassionally there would be thunder and lightning as well. Then Mum would arrange the mats on the floor of the bedroom and my brother, Sheela and I would sleep on the floor. She would cover us with a blanket and we would all be engulfed in a feeling of intense cosiness and love and would sleep with such joy, loistening to the rain on the zinc roof, especially if the following day was a school holiday. 

 

We used to go to the seaside and pick shells and bring them home. We had a collection of shells. Uncle Krishna Pillay must have been quite an artist. He would paint colourful pictures on the shells and arrange them in their room and also keep some outside. Once he gave us a few which we admired greatly. Another thing that he did was to paint pictures on the wall of his bedroom. We had been invited to admire his artwork. It did make the drab room look very interesting.

 

100 Jalan Lumba Kuda Lama had been a brand new brick house. 14 Bukit Chagar was an old run-down wooden Malay Kampung House.

L-R: Sobha, Mum, Prabha and the legs of Uncle Prasad

The people in the picuture are in the living room of the wooden house. The open door leads to the area where my brother and I used to sleep on mats on the floor. The door beyond that leads to the kitchen. Note the peeling paint and the rattan chairs that we used.







The Arrival of Sarojini

My grandmother took in boys who came from the rubber estates and gave them board and lodging and sent them to school. One day, a man came to our house with one of the boys, Govindan. The man was a Malayalee and his wife a Tamil. They were ruber tappers but wanted to give their children an education. My grandmother did not want to take in girls because there were too many boys in her house. The two boys who lived there when we were growing up were Govindan and Chellapan. Chellapan was a paying guest whose parents lived in Layang Layang Estate.

L-R: Chellapan Doraisamy, Uncle Prakash and Govindan Krishnan

The man was Govindan's father. He told my mum that his daughter who was staying with the Sekharan family had to move out of their house. He pleaded with my mother to give his daughter a place to stay. After much persuasion, Mum agreed and that was how Sarojini came to stay with us for two years. Her departure from our house was tragic and something that should never have happened but it did.

Sarojini, Harish and Sheela taken in December 1960, the year she left our house





The Arrival of Mr Appukuttan Nair as Sheela's teacher

Prabha's father found Mr Appukuttan Nair to come to our house to teach Prabha and Sheela, since there was no kindergarten nearby for the two young children to attend. Mr Appukuttan came dutifully every evening and after having tea with the adults, he would proceed to teach the children. I remember that he was stricter with Sheela than with Prabha and most probably because he was Prabha's father's friend.

Soon, he found out that Sheela was a fast learner and had no problems understanding, learning and doing all the work set out by him. He was working for the British Army in Majidee and was a friend of Mr C P Thomas as well.

Then one day Mr Appukuttan announced that he was going to India to get married. He was away for a couple of months and when he returned, minus his wife, to resume teaching, Sheela and Prabha were already attending the Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus in Johore Bahru. Sheela did not need a tuition teacher any longer and he stopped coming shortly thereafter.


People like Mr Appukuttan belonged to a large group of Malayali men who came to work in British Malaya and left their families behind in India. They would visit India once in three or four years for about a month. Their wives and children, whom they hardly knew carried on with their lives. The husbands, in order to save money, would often share one room with four or five people. Prabha's father Uncle Krishna Pillay, sent his wife and children to India in 1961 and lived alone with friends until the British army withdrew from the Far East.

If the grapevine is to be believed, when Mr Appukutan returned to India he found that his wife had left him for someone else and had taken all his hard-earned money which he had dutifully sent home to India every month. His was not an isolated case.


Onam Celebrations

Mum and Aunty Ratnammah had been classmates in Mayyanad. Onam celebrations became a really big thing when we stayed together. The excitement would start at least a month earlier with the making of delicacies, new clothes, shoes, cleaning of the house, new curtains and we were allowed to take a day off school. Onam is not a public holiday in this country and the Malays and Chinese had no idea as to what it was all about except that my mother would send them some Indian cookies which they enjoyed eating.


Mum would rise early in the morning and proceed to boil water on the kerosene stove for us to take our bath. She would wake us one by one before the break of dawn. Prabha's mother did the same. We would be sleepy and shivering but the excitement of wearing new clothes and shoes made us forget the discomfort. Sheela never complained about getting up or taking her bath.


Mum being Mum would dress all three girls in similar clothes, so much so that we appeared to be in uniforms most of the time. We did not like it one bit.


Lunch was fun since we did not use plates but banana leaves and got to sit on the floor to eat. The food served on Onam is vegetarian.



Half the fun was in bending over until our faces almost touched the leaf and trying to get the food to our mouths. The adults served us and we had to eat all the different kinds of stuff put on our leaves. At the end of the meal, there was no washing up, just the disposal of leaves.


By mid afternoon the adults would be really tired and have their much needed rest and sleep. We children were allowed to run and play and it was one day when no one got scolded or beaten for any crime committed. We siblings did not quarrel either for it was Onam and Maha Bali had come for his yearly visit, even though we were not in Kerala!


*Onam (Malayalam: ഓണം) is an ancient festival which still survives in modern times and is celebrated by the people of Kerala, India.^[1] The festival commemorates the Vamana avatar of Vishnu and the subsequent homecoming of the legendary Emperor Mahabali. It is the state festival of Kerala and falls during the month of Chingam (August–September) and lasts for ten days.

The subjects under Mahabali's reign were happy and prosperous and the king was highly regarded, so much so that even the gods under Indra became jealous of Mahabali as was intended by Vishnu, and they approached Vishnu claiming that Mahabali is now equivalent to an Indra.

Once Vishnu was assured that Indra's pride has been contained and that a world with two Indras represents imbalance, Vishnu assumed the form of a dwarf: Vamana. Vamana requested three steps of land for him to live in.


Given a promise of three steps of land by King Mahabali against the warning given by his Guru Sukracharya, Vamana, enlarged himself to such dimensions as to stride over the three worlds. He had grown so huge that he could step from heaven to earth, and earth to the lower worlds in two simple steps. King Mahabali unable to fulfill the promise of three paces of land to the Supreme God, offers his head for the third step.


Thus, Vamana places his foot on King Mahabali's head and sends him down to the netherworld. Being worshipped however, by Mahabali, and his ancestor Prahláda, he conceded to them the sovereignty of Sutala (netherworld).


In the meantime, with the grace of Vishnu, Mahabali visited his people on an annual basis. It is this visit of Mahabali that is celebrated as Onam every year. People celebrate the festival in a grand way and impress upon their dear King that they are happy and wish him well.





Onam 1959 when Mr Lawrence Law came with my uncle Prakash, Mum's youngest brother who was then 19 years old and applying to enter the University of Singapore. Lawrence had just graduated from the same university

All good things come to an end

My Dad and Uncle fell out over some disagreement regarding the Johore Bahru Grand Prix. The popular driver of those days was Albert Poon. My father was English educated and that uncle was not. So the men stopped talking but the ladies continued to be friends, since they used the same kitchen, and shared the facilities. We children were made aware of the need to be always on our best behaviour and to not antagonise anyone.


Life was a bit strained after that fall out. The swing under the house had been set up by Uncle who was a handyman. It was out of bounds for us. When we children were loud in our enjoyment of playing together, Mum always found a chore for us that broke up our play.


When I was ill and hospitalized for a long while, Mum heavily pregnant with Harish would come every afternoon to the hospital, carrying a tiffin and some porridge and an omelette for me. She had to walk a long distance to catch a bus and then from the bus stop to the ward and back. She came alone and it was Aunty Ratnammah who looked after my older brother, Sheela and Sobha until Mum returned.

Years later when it fell upon me to take Sobha, Harish and Suresh to the hospital for various ailments, I often remembered my mother. I took Sobha to the hospital for many years on an almost weekly basis. In order to save the bus-fare we would walk to the hospital and back. On the way back we would stop at Uncle Anandan's house and pick up Susheema their eldest daughter. She was a round little thing who did not like to walk and I had to carry her all the way home. In the evening Mum and Dad would send her home.

I do not remember ever having to do anything for Sheela who was almost totally self-sufficient.

The Johore Bahru Grand Prix

One of the oldest races in Malaya, the Johore Grand Prix was first held in 1940. The next Grand Prix took place only in 1949, and was held between August and October. When the Malaysian Grand Prix (which took place at the Batu Tiga circuit near Kuala Lumpur) was introduced, the Johore Grand Prix was scheduled to take place a week after it in September to facilitate overseas participants who wanted to compete in both races. Due to the Confrontation and the state of emergency, the Johore Government prohibited the event from 1963 to 1966, and again in 1969. Thereafter, the event was not revived.

History
 

Organised by the Automobile Association of Malaya, the first Johore Grand Prix was held in November 1940 under the patronage of H.R.H. Sir Ismail Tungku Mahkota of Johore, in aid of The War Fund. It was a two-day event with four races each day. The circuit consisted of a portion of a newly built Johore bye-pass road (1.5 miles; 2.414 kilometres) and some connecting roads. Unlike subsequent Grand Prixs, participation at this race was by invitation only, and fifteen invitations were sent out for competitors who would represent the five states of Johore (includes Singapore), Perak, Selangor, Penang and Malacca.

 

The next Johore Grand Prix took place eight years later in 1948 with the newly established Singapore Motor Club (formed by a group of racing enthusiasts) taking up its organisation, similarly with the support of Tungku Mahkota who was himself a car enthusiast.


The circuit was different from the 1940 circuit. Information on the Johore Grand Prix is sketchy except for the years from 1949 to 1952 and 1967 to 1968.

The Johore Grand Prix was extremely well received with entries and spectatorship growing over the years. In the early 1950s, an entrance ticket was priced at five dollars and available in Singapore and Johore Bahru.


The number of participants at the race increased annually, with 88 entries in 1951 and 101 in 1952. And in 1952, there were about 35,000 spectators at the event. The scale of the event also grew from a one-day programme comprising four races in 1948, to a two-day programme in the late 1960s with motorcar racing on the first day and motorcycle racing on the second.

Sheela becomes a student of The Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus in Johore Bahru


When I was in Standard 2, it was announced in school that those of us who had sisters who wished to study at the Convent, must bring our sister's birth certificate in order for them to be registered as students. I informed my mother. My mother informed my grandfather. My grandfather went to Jail D'Cruz. The matter was confirmed and the birth certificate was given to me in an envelope which was placed in my school bag.



The school registered my sister and returned the birth certificate to me and it was duly returned to my mother who kept it safely in a chocolate tin.

When I was in Standard 3, it was announced that we had to bring the birth certificate of the sister who had been registered the previous year. The same process again, ending with Jail D'Cruz and the birth certificate was given to me and I duly returned it for it to go back to lie in the chocolate tin.

Towards the end of Standard 3, the school gave out the book list and that included the book list for the new batch of Standard 1 students. With the book list came a sense of urgency to get Sheela ready for school. This meant new school uniforms, shoes, socks, school bag, pencil box, pencils, ruler, eraser and the whole works. For Mum it meant one more person to get ready for school. For me it meant I would now have a sister in school and not be alone. Those were exciting days.

Off my mother went to the Chinese tailor in Jalan Lumba Kuda to get three sets of uniform - white blouse with sleeves and a peter pan collar, a blue pinafore with three box pleats in front and three at the back, a belt. I was still wearing my old uniform which Mum had made for me when I was in Standard 1.

1960 came all too soon for me. I was dreading that year because my class teacher was a monster, Mrs Nancy Teoh. She had a reputation for hitting her students and being generally ill-tempered most of the time. I was also excited because Sheela was coming to Standard 1.

I remember going to the corridor outside the parlour and was most happy to see my grandfather there. He was talking to Mrs D'Cruz a very popular teacher in the school, about Sheela's first day at school. She was the wife of Jail D'Cruz, my grandfather's friend. I must explain that in those days people were given an identity which was often used in front of their names. For example, Mr D'Cruz worked in the jail and therefore became Jail D'Cruz to differentiate him from all other D'Cruzes.

One day I managed to convince my mother to allow me to wear my sister's new uniform to school. She relented and I was off to school dressed in the new uniform and sporting Sheela's hair-style as well.

I did say that my teacher was a monster. She called me to the front to reprimand me for wearing a uniform that showed my thighs instead of covering my knee-caps. I had to admit that it was my sister's. Then she focused on my hair which needed to be plaited instead of being tied up with a ribbon. I admitted that it was my sister's style. Mum did not say much when I told her what had happened at school. But I have to add that I enjoyed wearing the new uniform that day.



Brief History of HIJ Convent

In 1662 Barré saw the need for the education of the poor in France. He therefore recruited educated women to help set up his first school near Rouen. As the enrollment increased, more schools were established, and four years later, the ladies in charge of these schools began to live in a community under a Superior. This was the beginning of a religious congregation whose main work was the education of the poor. The year 1666, therefore saw the founding of the Congregation of the Sisters of the Infant Jesus.

The outbreak of the French Revolution brought about several social and political changes in France but the work of the congregation spread rapidly. Less than twenty-five years after the opening of the Mother-House in Paris, eighty schools for free education and forty boarding schools had been established in France. With the granting of official approval from Rome, the Sisters extended their work to America, England, Spain, Malaysia, Japan and Thailand.

Southeast Asia

In 1849 a Catholic missionary in the Straits Settlements, the Rev. Jean Marie Beurel, a native of Saint-Brieuc in France, suggested to the colonial governor William Butterworth that it might be worthwhile to found a charitable organisation for girls next to the Church in Victoria Street. In August 1852, Beurel bought the house at the corner of Victoria Street and Bras Basah Road. He paid $4000 of his own money for it. Beurel then appealed to the Superior General of the congregation in France for Sisters to run a school.

Malaysia

Four Sisters were sent to the East. After a long and perilous voyage, three of them landed at Penang in 1852; one had died at sea. The three sisters established a convent which contained an orphanage and school in Penang that same year. The school, Convent Light Street, is Penang's oldest girls' school and has occupied its current site along Light Street for over 150 years.

While on the peninsula, the Sisters continued establishing schools with help from the local community such as Kuala Lumpur's oldest girls' school Convent Bukit Nanas, now recognised as one of the city's premier schools. During World War II, the Japanese invaded Malaya and either took over or closed down many such mission schools, notably the iconic Convent Primary School in the hills of Tanah Rata.^[5] The Tanah Rata convent is one of the few in the region which still contains an operating school and a church. Today, CHIJ schools can be found in most states and many major cities and they continue to educate local girls of all races and religion.
(From Wikipedia)


The Move to Jalan Abdul Samad and the Birth of Suresh

Meanwhile my Dad had paid for and bought the house in Jalan Abdul Samad and we were due to move by the end of 1960. Mum vowed that she would never ever share a house with anyone again. And we never did. We moved
 in November about two weeks before the school year ended. Our parents could not arrange transport for us and Dad showed me how to get to school and return using public transport. I am not sure how Sheela managed. I have to ask her.

We were very sad to leave our Malay neighbourhood but excited about our new house. I cried when I said goodbye to Safiah who was two years older than me but so very kind and friendly. She was a student at the Sultan Ibrahim Girls' School and their uniform, was exactly the same as ours but the colour was a bright green.

Parents took the front room and in that room slept Mum, Dad, Harish and Sobha on the two beds placed there.

Sheela and I shared the middle room which had two sets of windows and gave us a good view of our neighbours on the left and the Towle family's house at the back. My older brother had the third room which doubled as the prayer room.

Suresh was born on the 13 of December 1960 and Sarojini was still with us. By now Sheela was seven, I was ten, my brother was twelve, Sobha was four and Harish was almost two. My Mum was 28 and Dad about ten years older.

We settled into our new house very quickly and happily leaving Bukit Chagar and its rustic Malay Kampung atmosphere. We did not miss Bukit Chagar too much because our new house was next to Kampung Baru which appeared to be a more modern area.

To help Mum an Indian lady was employed. She occupied my brother's room and she was fierce and very unkind to all of us. It was only after she burned Harish with a cigarette butt for entering her room, that her services were terminated. We were happy to see her go and our kind mother take over from her. Sulo's father then got a Malay lady to help and from then until we left home, Achi worked in our house helping my Mum. Achi has a special place in all our hearts for her kindness and love, and she lived just down the road in her Kampung house.

Taken in early 1961, soon after we moved in. The grass has not grown. Mum has given birth to Suresh who is not in the picture. Clockwise starting from extreme right: Prasanna, Harish, Sobha, Prabha, Mum and Sheela. The smile on Mum's face says it all : At last a house of our own!

In January 1961 Uncle Karunakaran fixed his wedding datea and informed us about his coming wedding to be held in Kuala Lumpur. We were all very excited about the wedding of our favourite uncle. His father, my father's paternal uncle was coming from India to attend the wedding. This uncle was the one who had vehemently opposed my parent's wedding, since he did not approve of my mother as a suitable wife for his nephew.

Mum made all kinds of preparations to welcome him to our home. She had to impress upon him that she was the best possible partner for my father and that she had all the qualities that he had thought vital. Soon after the wedding our grand-uncle visited us and stayed with us for a few weeks. He was most impressed by my mother and he never stopped telling her that.

He also advised my father to invest his money in Kerala - land and houses, which my father did, thinking that one day we would sell up everything in Malaya and return to India to live happily ever after. But that was not meant to be.










L-R: My grandfather Raghavan, Prasanna, Grand Uncle, Sheela, Grandmother Lakshmi Narayani, Sobha, Prabha carrying Harish - taken in our garden in early 1961, after the wedding of Uncle Karunakaran

The Wedding

The wedding day loomed and mother was not able to go. It was decided that Dad, my older brother Prabha, my grandparents and I would attend the wedding in Kuala Lumpur. Mum was busy thinking of a suitable gift for the bride and groom, what we children would wear, who would comb my long hair and dress me up for the wedding. I suggested to her that she cut my hair but she would not hear of it, thus passed another ocassion when I could have cut my hair.

One of Dad's friends had bought a new car and he was driving to Malacca. He offered to take us up to Malacca. It was a long and tedious journey. From Malacca we took a taxi to Kuala Lumpur. I remember reaching Kajang and going to Seremban and seeing the hills. I thought I was looking at the Himalayas! Johore Bahru is so flat and I had not seen a hill before.

We arrived at Uncle's house in the evening, two days before the wedding. Uncle took us to a shop and Dad bought me the most beautiful dresses I have ever owned. It was a blue dress and it cost $28 which was a princely sum in those days when dresses cost an average of about two dollars.

The next day I did what my Mum had told me to do - scout around for a lady who would comb and plait my hair for me and fix it with the new coloured ribbons that she had bought for the wedding. I did just that and found a cousin of Uncle Karan who was also my Dad's cousin. I made friends with her daughters Lily and Annie and we had a great time during the wedding. Aunty dutifully combed my hair, her children sported short hair.

The day of the wedding came and father gave me a chain to give to our new aunt and a ring to my brother to present to uncle. Mum had told me to give both the gifts to uncle since our new aunt would not know who I was.

Uncle Karunakaran took the gift from me and gave me a hug. This is what he said, "Mollu, you are giving me a gift for my wedding". I was so pleased especially when I saw the other adults beaming away and my father smiling quite happily. When my brother gave him the ring, he too got a hug and a similar comment I am sure.















Uncle Karunakaran and Aunty Rema on their wedding day

The Visits

We took the night train to JB. The wedding was over by lunch and I was in charge of handing out limes to the guests. We all came back to Uncle's house and I remember the tears in Aunty Rema's eyes and one of the guests teasing her that if she should be unhappy just to go to her mother's house which happened to be across the road.

Our house became a hub of excitement. The newly weds were coming for a visit and to stay. They came and there was the normal photo sessions at the studio. I am glad we had that tradition.

Seated L-R: Grand Uncle, Sobha, Grandmother, Mum with Suresh in her arms
Standing L-R: Prasanna, Dad carrying Harish, Prabha

Seated L-R: Aunty Rema's mother, Aunty Sathi from Singapore, Aunty Rema, Grand Uncle holding Sobha, Aunty Rema's youngest sister, Mum holding Suresh
Standing L-R: Sheela, Prabha, Uncle Karunakaran, Uncle Nganeswaran my Dad's older brother, Dad carrying Harish - taken in the first quarter of 1961

Then it was time for us to visit Uncle and Aunty in Kuala Lumpur. I would not say it was a very successful visit but neither was it a bad visit. It was just a visit and perhaps that is why we never ever made another visit to each other. Uncle attended my wedding, Aunty did not and we never asked why.

Uncle Karunakaran drove Dad's car and took us to many places and it was almost like old times when he was a regular visitor to our home. The above photograph was taken somewhere in KL.
L-R: Prasanna, Sheela, Prabha with Hrish in front, Mum with Sobha in front and Dad carrying Suresh - taken in 1962.

In Penang when the ship allowed us to disembark for a day - at the Botanical Gardens
L-R: Prabha, Dad with Suresh, Harish, Mum, Sobha, Prasanna and Sheela, taken in November 1963




As time moved on and on and on....

Sheela is quarantined

In 1961, Sheela was ill with measles and she was the only one who was not well. In order not to infect the infant Suresh, she was quarantined in grandparents' house. We all missed her a lot and I believe it was Uncle Prasad who took many photographs of her in the house.

Our Trips to Singapore

Dad worked in Singapore and all our relatives lived in Singapore. In the mid-fifties Dad had made a downpayment for a house in Bukit Timah, to an agent. He turned out to be a fraud and disappeared with the money of all those who had paid him. If he had not been fraudulent, our lives would have taken a different turn for sure.

The Causeway

Monday, August 25, 2008

http://goodmorningyesterday.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-grandfather-tessa-mitchell.html

My Grandfather – Tessa Mitchell

My paternal grandfather, Lewis Williams, lived and worked in Singapore in the early years of the 20th century. He was employed by a company called Topham, Jones and Railton and worked in Singapore from about 1911 until about 1930. Topham, Jones and Railton were the civil engineering firm who built the King’s and Queen’s Docks and in 1922 began building the causeway linking Singapore to Johor Bahru.

Recently I was going through some photographs in my late Mother’s belongings and came across two large photographs from my grandfather of the newly built causeway in 1924. These have now been donated to National Archives of Singapore.

 

Our grandfather's older brother Neelakandan was also involved in the building of the causeway but unfortunately there is no documentation available to us to support this claim. The Japanese doctor had his part too in the lives of my grand-uncle and grandfather.



Grand-Uncle Neelakandan

 

Causeway from North

Causeway from South
My father, Frank Ivor Williams, was born in Swansea, but spent his early years with his parents in Singapore. His younger brother, my Uncle Idris, was born in Singapore. Both boys were sent home to the UK at the age of seven or eight, only seeing their parents on their occasional ‘home leave’. Here is a photograph of my father at an early age with his Amah which is dated 3rd March 1911.

Tekka Market


Some of the common places that we visited and had heard of spoken so often included the Tekka Market near the sari shops of Serangoon Road
The Siglap Market


The Siglap Market is very special because it was near Moira Remedios' house in Yarrow Garden. We used to walk with her to the market in the mid seventies, and it was from this market that I bought dresses for Daphne that were far too small for her.

Cathay Cinema


This cinema at the end of Orchard Road and before the junction to Serangoon Road holds very dear and frightening memories for me. In 1960, on Christmas day, my uncle Prakash and his best friend Gabriel Lee, took me and Rose Lee (Gabriel's sister who was my age and a student at the same convent) to watch the movie Gulliver's Travels.

We left JB in the morning and had lunch at Rendevous, a restaurant in front of Cathay and then came home by evening. It was the most exciting trip for me for years. Every Christmas I think of my uncle and Gabriel, both 20 years old, taking two ten year old girls for an exciting and unforgettable outing.

The beauty of the Katong Post Office


I have never been to this post office but the beauty of the building brings sadness for most of them were demolished to make way for multi-storey characterless buildings of brick and mortar and no soul.

C.K. Tang


Our dream shop when we were growing up and which found too expensive for us. Then when I was a student in Singapore, it was my favourite store. I stopped shopping there once their new building came up and I moved further and further away from Singapore.


Bukit Timah

Driving into Singapore meant holding our noses as we drove past Yeo Hiap Seng's kichap factory and then looking out for the overhead railway bridge and finally turning into Aunty Sumathy's house.

The sadness of Choe Chu Kang

Choa Chu Kang brings sadness for the one and only time we went there was for the funeral of our uncle Nganeswaran whom we called Perappan, in 1970. The cemetery was in Choa Chu Kang.

He was the older brother of my Dad and he lived in worked in Pulau Blakang Mati. He had a tailoring shop and made uniforms for the soldiers.

L-R: Prasanna, Uncle Nganeswaran (Dad's older brother) carrying Suresh and Sheela

Boat rides and fun times in Pulau Belakang Mati


We used to go to Pulau Belakan Mati by boat

Visiting Uncle Rajan, Aunty Shantha and our 'posh' cousins

In Singapore we had another uncle Uncle Rajan and his wife Aunty Shanta. They had three delightful children - Ranjit, Jeeva and the baby who was Suresh's age. Before we sailed to India in 1963, Aunty Shanta visited us with fabric for us to make dresses. In the photograph above taken with our paternal uncle Nyaneswaran carrying Harish are Sheela on the right and I wearing the dresses made with the material that Aunty Shanta had given us.

Surprise visitors

One night after we had gone to bed, Uncle Prakash visited us with some visiting navy personnel from India. Mum woke us up and we met them and then took this photograph. It was in 1961 and Dad had gone on a trip with his friends to Penang. Left to Right: the children are Prabha, Sheela, Sobha and Prasanna. Unfortunately the picture is not clear.

Our Dear Uncle Prasad - the dreams he had

Taken in 1955 or before
Uncle Prasad second from the left and Ramachandran Iyer second from the right

The Different Phases of Sheela's Life in Lorong 2B

Aunty Subadhra's older daughter Chitra, Sobha, Uncle Kamalan and Sheela taken in our garden, with Robbie our dog, sometime in 1964. Uncle Kamalan had a fantastic sense of humour and kept us laughing all the time.

L-R: Dad, Sobha, Uncle Raghavan (Aunty Subadhra's husband), Appapan and Uncle Kamalan - taken in 1964

Seated L-R: Sheela, Chitra, Suni her brother, Prasanna
Standing: Vavachi, Sobha and Prabha - taken in 1964

Uncle Kamalan with Mum's younger brother Uncle Prasad taken in 1964

Taken after 1966 for sure because this is the white dress from the Woodlands market that we wore for Wasa's engagement

A Religious Fervour Set In

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEyvAZOvADw

listen to Raghupathi Raghava Rajaram

Shanthi Bhawan

Mr Bangah was a teacher in Johore English College and his daughter Shanthi was a student, my senior at the JB Convent. When she was about 15, she left school and became a very spiritual person. Her home became a temple and we used to go there to sing bhajans. Mr and Mrs Aravind were regulars there. Just as we started going there, so did we stop and I am not sure why.

Thaipusam and the hospital quarters

Sometime in 1964 we started to go to the hospital quarters on the eve of Thaipusam and watch the prayers and the people carrying the kavadi being pierced with the vel.

 

The man leading the prayers was Mr Shangkaran who lived there and worked at the hospital. He and numerous others would get into a trance and place their hands in boiling oil to take out whatever was being fried in the oil. The government gave some land and the Waterworks temple was built by Swamy Shankaran and his committee.

Gurukulam in Singapore

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0s0anVD104

Hai Ram - my favourite

Front Row L-R: Sobha, Sugatha, Susheema, Subagan, unidentified, Chelliah Girl, Laila Das, Chelliah Girl
Seated L-R: Grandfather Raghavan, Swami Nataraja Guru, Swamy Nithiya Chaitanya Yati, Grandmother Lakshmi Narayani
Standing L-R: Uncle Siva Das, Cheriachan Govindan Nair, Dad, Kolatha Maamen Karunakaran, unidentified, Prasanna, Sheela, Hector standing behind Sheela, Mum, Aunty Indira, Prabha standing behind Aunt Indira, Uncle Anandan, unidentified, Sushruthan, Aunty Mrs Gopal Das, Thangammah, Sulo's mother Mrs Raman Nair, Chellapan, Mrs Chelliah

We used to go to the Narayana Mission in Singapore on Sundays, and listen to the talks given by the visiting Swamijis. Once I left for Kuala Lumpur, I never again visited the Mission. The picture above was taken after the Swamijis came to our house for a prayer session and a meal.

 

Swami Nataraja Guru and Mangalananda Swami visited Malaya in 1955 and parents went to see him. Mother got two notebooks and gave to Annan and to me to get their autographs. Mother would show us the books and talk about them. The above photograph was taken in 1966 some eleven years later. At that time and at that age, eleven years seemed a long period of time.

Sheela leaves Lorong 2B in 1974

Sometime in March 1973 we visited my grandparents. Mum and Dad were in Soya's house. I remember entering grandma's room. She was lying on the bed. Sheela was with me. We called out to her and she slowly got up and sat on the bed without speaking. She looked at us long and hard.

 

Then we saw her dribbling and I saw her left cheek being pulled to one side of her face. I quickly called out to my grandfather. He told one of us or Chellappan to get an ambulance. The ambulance arrived and took grandma and grandfather accompanied her. I am not sure how we contacted our parents. Father came and took us to Soya's house and we broke the news to our Mum. Mum was very scared and did not know what had happened. Grandpa who was an Ayurvedic Vaidyar told us that she had suffered a stroke.

 

We reached the hospital and found grandpa. They had warded grandma in the Thrid Class Ward because they said that she would be near the Nurses' Station and there were doctors and nurses there all the time. Grandma was unconscious. The doctors appeared not to care and I got involved in an argument with the doctors about the care being given to our grandmother.

 

That night I stayed with her and Sheela stayed in the morning. That became a pattern over the next one month. We made friends with the doctors and nurses and the other patients in the ward. One of the doctors was a young Houseman from Penang, Inderjit Singh. He was a Colombo Plan student who had just graduated.

 

At night, a familiar cry from the aged was, "Misy, nak kenching," followed by another similar cry. (Misy=nurse, I want to pass urine.)

 

Although I was the first to leave our home in 1970, it never felt as though I was leaving for good. We all felt that I was going to further my studies and that I would come back home and we would all be together again. After a while I began to get the mobile screen and place it around their bed, get a bedpan and later clear up after they had eased themselves.

 

 

I was never comfortable doing it but neither was I revolted. But, I began to feel the injustice of the situation - a geriatric ward with patients who are not mobile and everyone in uniform too busy to attend to them. They were there because they were ill. The uniforms and stethoscopes were there to care for the sick. So why were the sick left unattended in the midst of so many stets and uniforms ?

 

After graduation I got a job as a temporary teacher in Batu Pahat High School in April 1973. I stayed with the Pereira family and came home for the weekends. In November 1973 I got married and my husband was at that time working in Fraser Estate in Kulai Johore.

L-R: Kumaran, Chandra, Prasanna, Padma on the ocassion of Prasanna and Chandra's wedding on 25 November 1973

In 1974 Sheela got a job in Johore Bahru after completing her Form 6 as it was her intention to save enough money in order to leave for the UK. She made all the necessary applications and asked me to help get her a nurse's watch. By September she was ready to leave. The suddeness of her departure left my parents reeling. But she was determined to leave and chart her future in England.

 

I was very sad to see her go. Somewhere deep within me, I knew that she would not return to live in Johore Bahru again. She went to my grandparents' house to bid them farewell. Grandma was an invalid.

Pictures, Letters and Gifts From Sheela

My sister never failed to bring us loads of gifts each time she came home for a holiday. It must have cost her more than the ticket to Malaysia. She brought lovely lingerie, china ware, cakes, biscuits, chocolates, cheese, nuts, souvenirs and so many things. I have with me the dinner set she brought commemorating the bicentenary of the English artist Constable, who used to paint English scenery.

Sheela and Mum



Sheela and Adam

L-R: Ligy, Anita, Aunty Rema, Asha, Mum, Dad, Pradeep, Uncle Gengadharan 1981

Dad

Adam

Adam with sexy legs Sheela

Sheela and Adam

Laura

Adam amidst the books

Dad, Adam and the sheep

Adam

Dad, Adam and the cows

Daphne carrying Heather 1983

Roy and Heather 1983

Roy and Adam plucking raspberries in Grandma Pearce's garden 1983

Roy and Adam by the beach at Poole 1983

Roy, Adam and Sheela 1983

Laura, Mum, Adam, Dad, Heather taken in Australia 1989

Censored Sharona and Jessy

Dad, Mum, David, Sheela and Adam

Mum, Dad and Adam

Dad and Adam in Johore Bahru

Mum and flowers

L-R: Sheela, Indra, Roy and Sobha

		Do call me and let me know what i have missed out and the errors in my writing

My little sister whom we missed terribly when she was incarcerated in our grandparents' home!!!!!



L-R: Uncle Siva Dad, Harish, Grandfather Raghavan, Uncle Prakash holding Suresh, Grandmother Lakshmi Narayani, Mum Prasadini, Dad Krishnan
Standing L-R: Sobha, Sheela, Uncle Yashodharan (my grandmother Lakshmi Narayani's older brother Paramooth's son), Chellappan, Prabha, Govindan, Uncle Prasad, Prasanna, Mala and her brother Moorthi who was my grandmother's pet

The above photograph was the last photograph that we took in Chau Wah Photo Studio as a family

Hi Che, you are an amazing woman with a fantastic sense of recall and a great story teller. Some ideas for you to add: the thin balloons covered in powder left by Sime Darby and the fun we had trying to blow them up and finding they hurt our cheeks. Seow siah and her beautiful cheongsam. Did her mum sell eggs or tahu? The Chinese clogs that were worn at that time and we had some. The Chinese bar in Jln Ibrahim with the saloon door and red lights at night and we would try not to look at the bar while driving by the seaside with parents. The little corner shop in Jln dhoby which sold greenwood drinks and the plastic stuff in the tube which we would blow to make " balloons" for want of a better word. Grandfather visiting us always with sweets which were wrapped up in newspaper and the same old sweets always.... Do you remember them? By the way my birthday is Dec 20 and not 19. Thank you for writing about me. Just remembered that I was also scared of the Singhs who used to gather below the balcony and we used to spit at their turbans. Reminds me of the time we were waiting for a bus after our singing lesson and threw stones at cars and this Indian man stopped his car and told us off. Many years later we realized he worked st the education dept. Again thank you dear Chechi. Will call you one of these days. Give my love to father. Love Sheila

Sheela what you mentioned above will be included when i edit this in a few weeks' time.