Down The Memory Lane

Last Saturday, on the way back to my wife’s hometown of Hutan Percha, we decided to take the inner federal road by exiting the NS highway at the Seremban toll due to the congestion. Upon entering Seremban town en route to the road leading to Tampin, I said to Honey Dearest, “Why don’t we pass by your old school?”

I vaguely remember the way but I told her that let me try to see if I can still trust my memory. I turned left, passing the A&W drive-in restaurant on my right and headed up to Wisma Negeri, where at the roundabout we took a turn, passing the Istana. The road is quite different from when I was there last (instead of the old quaint two lane road, it is now four-lane) until we reaced the traffic light at the army camp and a signage to the left that said “Jalan Tunku Kurshiah”.

“Honey, what ever happened to Jalan Dato’ Siamang Gagap?”

Anyway, our intention was to just passed by the school but once we were at the gates, we looked at each other and said almost instantaneously, “Jom, let’s go in!”

Entering the gates of Tunku Kurshiah College evokes many memories, not just for Honey Dearest but also for myself. You see, way back when I was in primary school, one of my cousin was a student at the venerable institution and almost everytime on our way back from our kampung in Masjid Tanah, we would drop by to see Kak Long and passed her the lauk that my aunt prepared for her. At the rate of going back to Masjid Tanah every one and half/two months or so, I am guranteed to passed by the gates and drive up the corner hill at least 6 times a year. By then, I could remember all the names of the houses (Selindang Delima, Mahsuri, Siti Zawiyah, Tun Fatimah and Mahsuri – how about that eh ?:) and could essentially make my way to the canteen blindfolded. We would park our car next to the field and would have our small picnic with Kak Long.

It was only years later when I was in MCKK did I visited TKC under the pretext of “exchanging information on the prefectorial system of single-sex fully residential school” and things were almost exactly like how I remembered before. Little that I know that, 14 years on, I would marry a Selindang Delima girl from TKC.

We drove past the Headmistress’ house and on seeing all the hostel building, Honey Dearest’s eyes lit up as she showed me her hostel etc. Since it was a Saturday, there were many parents visitng their young ones. We drove past the Great Hall (supposedly haunted) and of course, the canteen. She showed me her classroom and the library. It was nice to see how delighted she was as I am sure she had many many wonderful memories here as I had in MCKK.