In remembrance of...
CHERISH: Veteran artistes need to be continuously celebrated and appreciated while they are still alive
People should spend less time about how many wrinkles someone has and instead look at the value and worth of the performance he or she gives.
“PAH dah tak ada,” whispered my mum in her slightly trembling voice. “She didn’t make it,” she added.
Right that instance, everything around me just went silent. I could almost hear my heart pounding really hard. I felt numb, sad, angry and alone, all in one. It’s like everything had been turned upside down.
At that moment, visions of my grandmother Pah Rosni cooking a storm in the kitchen, chatting away on the sofa while watching TV, playing and spoiling her great grandchildren with sugar (before sending them home), immediately came to mind.
Still in a state of disbelief, I was trying to decipher my mother’s, at times, incomprehensible words in between her loud sobs at the other end of the telephone line.
But as soon as I put down the phone, my eyes welled up. It was news I never wanted to receive.
I remember that evening when she was admitted to the hospital. An asthma sufferer all her life, Pah was at the hospital’s clinic earlier to get her stock of nebuliser when she suddenly blacked out. Doctors tried to resuscitate her and she was rushed into the intensive care unit (ICU) where she was put on life support. There she remained for slightly more than a month.
I tried to visit her whenever I could, but seeing your loved one being kept alive on a bunch of tubes was just too painful and heartbreaking.
A kind and selfless lady, Pah was very much loved. She always had time for everyone even if the rest of the world was busy.
While in hospital, family and friends from near and far came to visit, all praying that she would soon regain consciousness, open her eyes and greet us with her warm smile and that big grandma bear hug. Sadly, she never did.
Pah left us on Aug 9.
It’s been 102 days since she passed away, and the shock and numbness has somewhat lessened. But, my family and I are still coping with the loss.
The 69-year-old had played a huge part in my life. When the going got tough, she was there to extend that much-needed love and strength. And in her eyes, I could do no wrong.
Like a candle that comes to mind when there is darkness, she was a good listener who always gave sound advice to those in need. “Dah banyak makan garam”, she’d say and I could almost hear her say that to me till today.
Looking back, I remember how excited we, the grandchildren, always get to head home to our parents’ abode when we heard she’d be in town. A great chef in the kitchen, there would always be the delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen to the entire home making everyone hungry. The simple round wooden kitchen table would transform into a buffet island with a myriad mouthwatering dishes.
And, it was also Pah who painstakingly helped me graduate from merely knowing how to fry a miserable egg to whipping out an outstanding complicated rendang dish from scratch.
I miss how I was able to tell her everything that was on my mind during our late night chats in the kitchen over a cup of joe, while devouring her yummy freshly-baked jam tarts.
Pah’s death which brought many sorrowful hearts, marked the third passing of a family member within a short period of two months.
Earlier, my beloved aunt whom we fondly call Enda and grand aunt (Pah Rosni’s younger sister) left the world due to complications from diabetes.
My mother was the hardest one hit by news of their deaths. She was extremely close to all three since they’d speak on the telephone, almost on a daily basis, and find time to meet up.
On the day Pah passed on, never have I seen mother dearest feeling so lost and alone. “I feel so hollow inside,” she whispered with tears running down her sunken cheeks. Clearly overwhelmed by grief, I felt the pressure to be strong for her; by bottling up what I felt.
Later at Pah’s burial, everyone gathered to bid our final farewell. As her remains were being committed into the earth, I couldn’t hold back my tears.
Pah’s death left a feeling of emptiness in all of us, since she also left behind great memories for us to cherish. Whenever I hear a death of a veteran artiste, my mind would immediately jog back to Pah.
In recent times, we have lost many great stars. Luminaries like the multitalented Tan Sri P. Ramlee and Datuk Sudirman Arshad left legacies which continue to inspire and delight us for generations.
This year alone, we mourn the death of other greats in the local film and music industries like Shafiee Jaafar, or Pak Piee as he is more fondly known, Aziz Singah, Mohd Yusof Abdul Hamid, or Mr Os, Neng Yatimah and Datuk Adnan Abu Hassan, among others.
With the influx of new talents, the older generations inevitably make way. Some senior ones especially those in their twilight years are getting a raw deal. Some have difficulty landing jobs in the industry while others are forgotten. But, is cancelling themselves out of an on-camera life completely the answer to their aging conundrum?
People should spend less time about how many wrinkles someone has and instead look at the value and worth of the performance he or she gives. And, it is only when they’ve passed on that we realise the void they have left behind.
It’s understandable that most of us tend to celebrate the younger celebs who are pin-up worthy, but as they say, “kalau tak ada yang lama, manakan ada yang baru”.
Veteran artistes need to continuously be celebrated and adulated while they are still breathing, and recognition should not only come after they have gone. Let’s send out waves of appreciation to these talents while they’re still with us.
Like Pah, celebrities who have made an indelible mark on our local entertainment scene are a great loss to the nation.
My greatest regret is not having spent more time with Pah than I should have. Pah will always remain as the foremost celebrity in my heart. Al-Fatihah.
hizreen@nst.com.my