The one little village on the way from Kuala Terengganu to Kuala Lumpur.
Once our home. Now not even a stop.
Not if not for the time traffic light turned red at Simpang Empat.
A quick glance.
There was once the Balairaya where we chased spiders underneath while Mak was busy showing off her cooking skill during WI meet. Or when Ayah had his gathering of Persatuan Belia Angkatan Tenaga Muda or Red Cross assembly. No more the Pusat Pemeriksaan Jabatan Hutan that Ayah Su and Che Su used to stay a while. Nor is the field where we had the election campaigns or the wayang penerangan.
On the Pasaraya site, once stood some of the finer houses of Kemasek, among them the house of Awang Hitam the Juragan and Che Ngah Dayang - oh her nasi dagang kelosong daun pisang. The old mahkamah however is still there, on the hill behind the post office, shrouded by the much bigger trees that I once remember, haunted some says, always a mystery. That’s one place I don’t recall going. Not even in the craziest of time.
N’akut gok sebenornya.
At the very simpang, I recall once we the school children were made to line the street in the scorching sun, to wave flags and shout ‘Daulat Tuanku’ when the then outgoing King was returning. I remember too very clearly that the black Rolls Royce simply whizzed by and we were like looking left, right and then that’s it.
And then there are many more.
But what is it that you remember?