When I opened my eyes, the morning light was filtering through the gaps of a beautiful, traditional wooden house. For a moment, I forgot where I was. I stepped outside into the fresh, humid air, and the sights and sounds of a tropical village greeted me. A small, rustic well sat quietly in the yard. Three cars were parked nearby, and chickens roamed freely, pecking at the ground. Scattered across the compound were freshly fallen longan and rambutan fruits, dropping straight from the lush trees above.
I took a deep breath. I was not in a hotel. I was in a village near Kota Bharu, a city in the Kelantan state of
Malaysia. And more importantly, I was surrounded by family I had only just begun to know.
Welcome back to ishabil.com. Today, I want to share a travel story that is very different from my usual city explorations. This is a story about heritage, unexpected reunions, and the beautiful, multicultural tapestry of Malaysia.
The Story of a Grandfather’s Journey
To understand why I was standing in a wooden house in Kelantan, we have to go back to the 1960s. During that time, my wife’s grandfather traveled from India to Malaya in search of work. While there, he married a Malay woman, and they had a son—my wife’s uncle.
Eventually, my wife's grandfather returned to India. The Malay aunty he left behind later married another Malayali man, this time from Thrissur, Kerala. They built a life together in Malaysia and had children of their own. Years later, that man from Thrissur also married in India, and his Indian son invited and two of their Malasian sisters came to India for a visit.
During that trip, they visited my wife’s mother’s home. That was when I first met them. We connected instantly, especially since they spoke English, which made communication easy. When I started planning my trip to Malaysia, I messaged that sisters, Ishabi. and Zainab Without hesitation, They invited me to visit Kota Bharu. And so, the adventure began.
The Rush to Kota Bharu
The journey to this peaceful village actually started the day before, amidst the concrete and glass of Kuala Lumpur. My cousin and co-traveler, Mahmoud, had just returned to India, leaving me alone at the hotel.
Early that morning, I made my way to the KL Sentral transit hub. I grabbed a quick breakfast of a burger and orange juice from McDonald’s, relying on the efficiency of the city's transport network to catch the airport bus to KLIA2.
Time slipped away from me. By the time I reached the boarding gate, my AirAsia flight to Kota Bharu was on its final call. I hurried onto the plane, my heart racing, flying toward a city I knew absolutely nothing about. The flight was short, only about an hour, but the views from the window were captivating. As we descended, I looked down to see the Kelantan River, its waters a striking, earthy red, snaking through sprawling green villages.
The day before, Uncle had sent me a WhatsApp message saying he would be waiting at the airport. True to his word, as soon as I stepped out into the Kota Bharu heat, Uncle Yousuf and sister Zainab were there to receive me. We loaded into his car, and the cultural immersion began immediately.
Markets, Sweets, and Meeting the Matriarch
Our first stop was a local market that was entirely unique. Every single vendor selling fresh produce, spices, and goods was a woman. This is a famous trademark of Kelantan's Siti Khadijah Market, a vibrant display of the local culture where women dominate the local trade.
From there, we drove to Zainab’s home. It was a deeply emotional moment because I finally got to meet their mother—the Malay aunty who was once married to my wife’s grandfather. Sitting in her home, bridging the decades of history between our families, was a surreal experience.
Afterward, we went to Uncle’s house. Despite the language barrier—they spoke no English or Malayalam, and I spoke no Malay—their warmth was unmistakable. Love, it turns out, requires no translation. They welcomed me with special, traditional sweet snacks made from cassava and fresh coconut, and I spent the afternoon meeting various extended family members.
The Scenic Drive to Kuala Terengganu
The day was far from over. Later that afternoon, Uncle, Zainab, and I got into the car for a road trip to a neighboring city, Kuala Terengganu, to visit another sister, Ayisha.
The city was about 160 kilometers away, and the three-hour journey was an absolute delight. Driving along the East Coast of Malaysia is a mesmerizing experience. The highway stretches out like a dark ribbon cutting through endless, vibrant green palm oil plantations. Every now and then, the dense foliage would break, offering stunning, sunlit glimpses of the South China Sea crashing against the shoreline.
We passed through quiet kampungs (traditional villages) featuring wooden houses elevated on stilts, and drove by beautifully ornate mosques with striking domes that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Inside the car, despite my lack of Malay, the atmosphere was joyful. We shared snacks, pointed out beautiful landmarks to each other, and simply enjoyed the shared rhythm of the road. It was one of those travel moments where the journey itself is just as beautiful as the destination.
A Feast on the Floor: Cultural Discoveries
Finally, we arrived at Sister Ayisha’s beautiful home in Kuala Terengganu. As I walked into the yard, I felt a wave of familiarity. Growing right there in her Malaysian garden were papaya trees and green chili plants—the exact same plants we cultivate back home in Kerala.
Her brother and his family had also traveled there, turning the afternoon into a grand family reunion. Ayisha brought out an incredible spread of food for lunch. We had Nasi Ayam (Chicken Rice), fragrant steamed rice, and rich, flavorful chicken dishes.
It was during this meal that I witnessed a fascinating cultural practice. I noticed that food was being set up in two places: on the dining table, and on beautifully woven mats on the floor. At first, I assumed the floor seating was for the children. But to my surprise, the women gracefully sat on the mats on the floor to share their meal, while the men were seated at the dining table. It was a unique, traditional Malaysian domestic custom that I felt privileged to observe firsthand.
The Navy Base and the Treasures of the Past
After lunch, we continued our journey to a nearby coastal naval base where Uncle’s other son works. We stood by the sea, watching naval boats and ferries bobbing in the water, feeling the salty ocean breeze. We visited his apartment, met his family, and shared more stories before beginning the long drive back to Kota Bharu.
We arrived back at Uncle’s home late at night. Before we went to sleep, Uncle brought out something incredibly precious. With gentle hands, he showed me an old, faded letter written by my wife’s grandfather. He then pulled out a vintage photograph and an old, weathered ID card. Holding those items—tangible pieces of history that crossed oceans and decades—was the perfect end to the day. After a delicious, home-cooked Malaysian dinner, I retreated to that beautiful wooden house and fell into a deep sleep.
Friday: Google Translate and Coconut Jelly
That brings me back to the morning I woke up to the sounds of chickens and falling rambutan. It was Friday.
Uncle and I spent the early morning walking around his lush property. Since Zainab wasn't there to translate, Uncle and I communicated entirely through the Google Translate app on our phones. We laughed as we passed the phone back and forth, typing out sentences to understand each other. Together, we collected fresh local fruits from the trees for me to take back to India.
As I spent more time with them, I marveled at the beautiful, multi-national makeup of their family. Uncle has Indian and Malay roots. His wife is of Chinese origin. Their daughter-in-law, a hardworking nurse, originates from near the Thai border. Under one roof, so many cultures and languages blended seamlessly into one loving family.
At noon, we went to the city’s grand mosque for Jumu'ah prayers. Praying alongside thousands of locals in a new country is always a profoundly peaceful experience. Afterward, the streets outside the mosque were bustling with vendors. We bought some fresh coconut jelly—it was cool, sweet, and incredibly refreshing under the midday sun.
Next, we stopped at a local supermarket so I could load up on chocolates to bring home for my kids. For our final meal together, we went to a local Nasi Campur restaurant. This is a brilliant, buffet-style local dining concept. You are given a plate of rice, and you simply walk down a line, adding whatever chicken, fresh vegetables, and curries you want. At the end, you are charged only for the specific items you took. The food was rich, spicy, and delicious, perfectly reflecting the agricultural abundance of the area, which is packed with coconut groves and banana plantations.
The Long Journey Home
Eventually, it was time to say goodbye. Uncle and the family dropped me at the Kota Bharu Airport. I hugged them tightly, deeply grateful for the hospitality and the incredible connection we had forged in such a short time.
I took a short flight back to Kuala Lumpur (KLIA2). After a few hours of waiting, I boarded my final AirAsia flight bound for Kochi.
As the plane lifted off, I looked out the window and quietly said goodbye to Malaysia. It had been an unforgettable week of city skylines, historical museums, and, most importantly, family roots.
Four hours later, the plane touched down at Cochin International Airport. As I walked out of the terminal into the cool, early morning air of Kerala, I saw a familiar sight that made me smile instantly. My good friends Umarali and Sameer were waiting for me by their car.
We loaded my bags, packed with Malaysian chocolates, fresh fruits, and a heart full of stories. As we drove away from the airport, heading back toward the familiar roads of Oorakam Village, I knew that this trip to Kota Bharu would be a story I would tell for the rest of my life.
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