The Turquoise Stone

“That’s the thing about this city. I can never get enough of it. I am the iron filings to its magnet I am talking about Georgetown, my favourite place on earth. "

The trishaw parked nearby was tempting, but a long-overdue walk was in order. I passed the Penang Baazar where colourful kaftans and sarongs of varied sizes were suspended from hooks from the awnings above. It sailed with every slight breeze. A salesman darted out onto the sidewalk and accosted me to enter this rabbit’s warren with its narrow dinghy passageways and cramped stalls. I politely declined unwilling to relive an old memory of getting wedged and squashed. He insisted but I managed to walk away. Next, I made my way to where Cathay cinema (where I spent most Saturday mornings watching cheap matinees with my father) was once located. My heart constricted. In its place was a gaudy, garish mall.   

Parched, I detoured to Keng Kwee Street, off Penang Road, for a bowl of refreshing cendol. Something I never miss whenever I came home. Some customers, like me, were waiting patiently to be served whilst others were standing, slurping and savouring this exotic dessert with its delicate balance of sweetness.

 Craving satisfied, I continued to wade through the crowd. The combined smell of roasted chestnuts, hawker food, fresh seafood and poultry permeated through the air. Aromatic at times. Pungent and overpowering at other times.

I weaved through people milling around and found myself standing in front of the iconic Chowrasta Market, first built by the Georgetown municipality in 1890. The entrance is lighted by amber light bulbs (even during the day). Rows of stalls selling snacks and tea-time favourites such as flaky local biscuits, preserved nutmeg and durian cake greet the visitor. Buying these titbits for friends and relatives made me realise that this marketplace can still be considered the de rigueur on many a Malaysian’s shopping lists!

The ground floor is a busy morning market but the first floor is home to the biggest collection of second-hand bookshops in Georgetown.  Meandering through this labyrinth of books stacked from the floor upwards, I bought some old issues of The Adventures of Tin Tin comics for a steal.

Famished, I walked further down the road to full fill my gastronomical desires. The sixty-five storey KOMTAR building dominated the landscape dwarfing rows of newly painted double-storey shophouses surrounding it. Standing at the busy traffic light intersection, I was contemplating my choice of eateries. I recalled the “Craven A” Cafe that had given way to road expansion. The memory of its mouth-watering spicy chicken rendang paired with nasi lemak made me salivate.

 The scorching midday sun and the continuous stream of cars, buses and taxis honking at motorcyclists zigzagging through the traffic were chaotic. Crossing the road during lunchtime in downtown Georgetown is not for the faint-hearted. Waiting for the lights to change, I lost my footing and fell off the curb. I heard the screeching of brakes before I passed out.

“Are you alright? “said a familiar voice before he took my small hand into his large one. I got up and dusted my clothes only to find that I was wearing a dress instead of a t-shirt and jeans. I looked up and saw that he was holding my hand, fingers interlaced with his. He smiled. I smiled back. He gestured me to follow. I walked alongside him trying to match his long strides but soon fell back. I looked around the street. Everything was familiar, but yet, somehow different. We were standing at the roundabout when I saw the lunch crowd gathering at “Craven A” Cafe.

I shielded my eyes against the brilliant sunshine. Soon I became aware that I was standing on a two-way street with a big road sign that read, Penang Road. I looked around. There was no KOMTAR building and no traffic lights either. Parts of the pavement were uneven. Dilapidated old shophouses dominated the landscape. The bustling traffic was no more. Trishaw riders with ruddy complexions huffed and puffed as they laboriously pedalled to send their passengers to their respective destinations. The few cars and buses that drove past belched out thick black smoke.

I was distracted by a turbaned stranger with kohl-drawn eyes sitting on a small stool on one side of the pavement. A black cloth spread out in front of him, displayed an array of coloured stones of different shapes and sizes. They glittered and sparkled in the sun and lured many curious on-lookers. I was dazzled by a shiny turquoise stone. He gestured me to approach but the tall man took my hand and navigated me away.  

Roadside hawkers with pushcarts called out to pedestrians to buy their street food. I was gravitating towards one but was again gently steered away. I knew only too well that there was a better treat ahead. I smiled and skipped along in anticipation.

When we entered the Kek Seng Café, it was crowded. He led me to a table at the back and ordered my favourite Char Koay Teow and iced coconut water. Nothing for himself. I could not finish my meal and he obliged, as always. Before he left to pay at the counter, he ruffled my hair like he always did. I sat in my seat and waited for a long time but he did not return.

“Ready to go home?” said my sister.

“Huh?”

“You suffered a concussion and the hospital kept you here for observation for two days. Prayers for Papa were held yesterday. Sorry, you missed it,” she said.

I blinked away my tears.

“By the way, the nurse asked me to give you this. She found it in your jeans pocket,” she said as she placed a turquoise-coloured stone in the palm of my hand.

Chicken rendang - chicken cooked in a blended spicy mixture with coconut cream

Nasi Lemak - A Malaysian coconut milk rice served with spicy chilly, fried anchovies, peanuts and sliced eggs and cucumbers

Char Koay Teow - stir-fried flat rice noodles with egg, cockles, Chinese sausages and chives

Cendol - a popular local dessert with ice shavings, green jelly noodles, coconut cream, kidney beans and palm sugar