Our columnist was just taking up an offer for a free lunch from a nasi kandar proprietor she once interviewed, but he dished up much more.

MUM looks up at the sound of my yelp.

“Why so excited?”

“It’s Encik Saiful,” I reply. “He’s just invited me to a New Year lunch.”

Her eyes become saucers. “So are you going?”

“Of course! I would be crazy not to make time for the best nasi kandar in town.”

Boss, satu lagi! Nasi kandar in Ipoh goes well with a serving of wisdom on the side.

I eye Mother and wonder if I should ask her along. Other than the fact that I know she’d enjoy a spicy meal, the truth is, Mum – who can talk to anyone – would be useful to fill up gaps in the conversation.

It took me a while to strike up a conversation with Encik Saiful, partly because I was taken aback by his distinctly, well, un-towkay-like appearance.

Wow, did the selamba-looking chap who schlepped from behind the counter in his slippers, jeans and a check shirt really manage Ipoh’s most famous nasi kandar institution?

Thankfully, I recovered enough to get a good story out of him about his family business. When it was published, I left an extra copy at his shop counter, which happened to be just down the road from my house.

The lunch invitation was probably his way of saying thank you.

“Can I bring my mother, ah?” I texted boldly.

“Sure, sure, it’ll be nice to meet your mother,” came his reply. Suave!

On the appointed day, mother and daughter arrive at his shop brimming with anticipation. I hide a smile when he emerges in his trademark check shirt, jeans and slippers.

“You have a lot of dishes,” Mum comments, studying the trays of piping hot curries, steaming vegetables and flavoursome-looking meats. “Did you have so many when your grandpa started the business?

“Not so many, though we’ve always had the signature ayam merah, vegetables and coconut sambal ...”

“That’s quite a lot for one person to carry across his shoulders,” I point out.

“Speaking to you brings back a lot of memories,” he smiles. “In some ways, my grandfather’s life represented the ideal life.”

His surprising answer draws startled glances from Mum and I. By now, the lunch crowd is swelling – and many patrons are staring curiously at us.

“Come, come,” he gestures us into the air-conditioned room. “We’ll continue to chat inside.”

Picking up where we left off, I ask, “So, why would you say you prefer your grandfather’s life compared to what you have today?”

He pauses a minute to think.

“Let me tell you a story. As a child, I saw how my grandpa would wake up at 5am, go downstairs, get in a trishaw and go to market. He’d tell the pasar vendor, ‘Boss, I want 50 chickens, vegetables ...’.”

Encik Saiful gestures at imaginary items as if mimicking his grandfather at the market.

“Then he puts them all into the trishaw...”

“Can fit into one trishaw, meh?” I interrupt.

“Don’t you remember the sam loon chair (three-wheeled vehicle) your auntie used when she sold wan tan mien?” Mother answers on his behalf.

Oh yes, the quaint three-wheeled bicycle, piled high with chairs, vegetables and gas tank that my aunt once pedalled nightly to the Merdeka Garden playground.

I nod. “Go on.”

“So then he would go to the shop, distribute the goods and instruct the workers on how to cook this and that, and about 10am, start selling all the way until evening. Then he’d count the money and pay his workers: RM48 for you, and you and you. Yes, on the same day.

“Then he’d count the balance ... maybe 10,000 rupees which he would send back to his wife in India.

“Maybe he was left with RM250, which he would roll up, keep and go to sleep. A simple life. No stress, no debt, no baggage. He never had to borrow money.

“Yes, I am comfortable now. I have my shops, a bungalow, a nice car, can travel overseas. If you ask me, I like the kind of life my grandfather had, but of course, I know it’s not possible to have it anymore.”

I glance at my mum, wondering if she, too, is affected by his simple yet touching account.

It is only one of many stories unveiled over the course of lunch. We learn that despite his unassuming demeanour and dressing, Encik Saiful did not borrow a cent to bankroll his two shops in Ipoh.

“How do you motivate yourself?” I ask.

“I write down my goals on a piece of paper,” comes the surprising answer.

“A piece of paper?” I repeat incredulously.

“Yes, you must write it down. Of course, sometimes you miss the deadline but having it on paper pushes you to take action and succeed.”

This is better than any millionaire workshop I’ve ever attended – and I don’t have to fork out several thousand dollars for the hard-earned wisdom.

“You are doing very well for someone so young,” mother points out. “I think you will be very successful in your future business ventures,” she declares.

Encik Saiful’s cheeks darken. Ha! My mother can still make a grown man blush.

“In this shop, I meet a lot of different people,” he says. “Some of them are multi-millionaires. When some of the big clients come, they are surprised that I am the owner. Some are surprised that I talk ‘slow’. Some say they are also surprised by the simple way I dress.”

I chuckle guiltily. I am no millionaire, but I did share their surprised reaction. In reflex, I blurt out my thoughts, “I will never be rich like a millionaire ...”

“You can say that again!” Mother says tartly.

Chin tilting up defensively, I say, “Well, I love my job because I meet all sorts of people. I am rich in experience.”

“I agree,” Encik Saiful says, startling me. “It’s not every day I have a chance to sit down and share these stories with anyone. Your daughter has a good job. She is a millionaire in experiences!”

Mother beams with delight. She may speak disparagingly of her child – that’s just the Asian part of her – but I know that secretly she’s proud of me.

As we are driving out from the parking lot, Mother reflects, “What an extraordinary man. Maybe you can spin another story out of this.”

I nod wordlessly. She doesn’t know it, but my mental wheels are already turning. And to think, all we were expecting was a free lunch.

Alexandra Wong hopes to continue learning something new every day. Send feedback to: www.bunnysprints.com.

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