COMMENT | In the 1900s, my great grandfather Shahul Hamid travelled to Penang all the way from Tamil Nadu, India with his father and siblings when he was just a little boy. The decision to abandon their home in Tamil Nadu was a painful one to make, but necessary due to poverty and hardship.

When my great grandfather was growing up, his mother sold spices while his father did odd jobs to make a living for their family. They knew no one in this foreign land, but they had each other and they had faith.

In his 20s, my great grandfather who did not want to end up being an odd job worker like his father, decided to open up a stationery shop in Hutton Lane, Penang. His small shop did quite well, so much so he became known as ‘pena kaare’ which means ‘the pen man’ in his neighbourhood.

Years passed and my great grandfather got married and fathered nine children. My grandpa Othman was his eldest. As the helper in his father’s shop, one of the skills my grandpa learned was typing – this skill later became his rice bowl.

As a young man, my grandpa used to sit outside the Penang courthouse and the Oaths Commission with his typewriter. For a small fee, he’d type documents and letters in Tamil, English and Malay. In the evening and in the weekend, he accepted invitations to recite prayers for religious events and also taught youngsters to recite the holy book for a token.

After his father’s passing, my grandpa had to take care of his younger siblings. With money being tight, my grandma started selling thosai and appam from her kitchen in Halfway Road. And to make ends meet, my aunts sold ‘masala’ or pounded spices at local markets.

During the Japanese invasion in December 1941, my grandpa was at a barber shop along Transfer Road, getting his moustache trimmed. Hearing loud explosions, people were shocked and ran out to the street. Upon seeing everyone running for their lives, the barber began running with his scissors and my grandpa also ran with half a moustache on his face....