When I opened my eyes, the soft morning light was filtering through the gaps of a beautiful, traditional wooden house. For a moment, I completely forgot where I was. I stepped outside into the fresh, humid air, and the vibrant sights and sounds of a tropical village greeted me. A small, rustic well sat quietly in the sunlit yard. Three cars were parked nearby, and chickens roamed freely, pecking at the earth. Scattered across the compound were freshly fallen longan and rambutan fruits, dropped straight from the lush, green trees towering above.
I took a deep breath. I was not in a busy hotel. I was in a quiet, traditional village near Kota Bharu, a beautiful cultural city in the Kelantan state of Malaysia. And more importantly, I was warmly surrounded by family I had only just begun to know.
TRIP AT A GLANCE
Welcome back to Ishabil.com. Today, I want to share a travel story that is very different from my usual fast-paced city explorations. This is a deeply personal story about roots, heritage, unexpected reunions, and the beautiful, multicultural tapestry of Malaysia.
The Story of a Grandfather’s Journey
To truly 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 courageously traveled from India to Malaya in search of work and a better life. While there, he married a Malay woman, and together they had a son—my wife’s uncle.
Eventually, due to unforeseen circumstances, my wife's grandfather had to return to India. The Malay aunty he left behind later married another Malayali man, this time hailing from Thrissur, Kerala. Together, they built a beautiful life in Malaysia and had children of their own. Years later, that man from Thrissur also married in India, and his Indian son invited two of their Malaysian sisters, Ishabi and Zainab, to come to India for a visit.
During that specific trip, they visited my wife’s mother’s home. That was the momentous occasion when I first met them. We connected instantly, especially since they spoke English, which made communication effortless. When I later started planning my backpacking trip to Malaysia, I messaged sisters Ishabi and Zainab. Without hesitation, they warmly invited me to visit them in Kota Bharu. And so, the real adventure began.
The Rush to Kota Bharu
The journey to this peaceful village actually started the day before, amidst the towering concrete and glass skyline of Kuala Lumpur. My cousin and co-traveler, Mahmoud, had just returned to India, leaving me alone at our city hotel to navigate the rest of the trip.
Early that morning, I quickly made my way to the KL Sentral transit hub. I grabbed a fast breakfast of a burger and orange juice from McDonald’s, relying heavily on the legendary efficiency of the city's transport network to catch the airport bus to KLIA2.
However, time slipped away from me. By the time I finally reached the boarding gate, my AirAsia flight to Kota Bharu was on its very 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 incredibly captivating. As we began our descent, I looked down to see the majestic Kelantan River, its waters a striking, earthy red, snaking its way through sprawling green villages.
The day before, Uncle had sent me a quick WhatsApp message assuring me he would be waiting at the airport. True to his word, as soon as I stepped out into the dense Kota Bharu heat, Uncle Yousuf and sister Zainab were right there to receive me with open arms. We loaded into his car, and my cultural immersion began immediately.
Markets, Sweets, and Meeting the Matriarch
Our very first stop was a local market that was entirely unique. Every single vendor selling fresh produce, aromatic spices, and local goods was a woman. This is a famous trademark of Kelantan's Siti Khadijah Market, a vibrant, bustling display of the local culture where women proudly dominate the local trade.
From there, we drove straight 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 quiet home, bridging the decades of complex history between our families, was an absolutely surreal experience.
Afterward, we went to Uncle’s house. Despite the obvious language barrier—they spoke no English or Malayalam, and I spoke absolutely no Malay—their warmth and hospitality were unmistakable. Love, it turns out, requires no translation. They warmly welcomed me with special, traditional sweet snacks made from cassava and fresh coconut, and I spent the rest of the afternoon happily 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 an impromptu 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 dramatically against the shoreline.
We drove past quiet kampungs (traditional villages) featuring beautiful wooden houses elevated safely on stilts, and drove by incredibly ornate mosques with striking domes that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Inside the car, despite my lack of Malay vocabulary, the atmosphere was incredibly joyful. We shared local snacks, enthusiastically pointed out beautiful landmarks to each other, and simply enjoyed the shared, peaceful rhythm of the road. It was one of those rare 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 an unexpected wave of familiarity. Growing right there in her tropical 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, joyous family reunion. Ayisha brought out an incredible, lavish spread of food for lunch. We feasted on Nasi Ayam (Chicken Rice), incredibly fragrant steamed rice, and rich, deeply flavorful chicken dishes.
It was during this shared meal that I witnessed a truly fascinating cultural practice. I noticed that the food was being carefully set up in two distinct places: on the main dining table, and on beautifully woven mats laid out on the floor. At first, I assumed the floor seating was designated for the children. But to my surprise, the women gracefully sat together 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 highly privileged to observe and respect firsthand.
The Navy Base and the Treasures of the Past
After our satisfying lunch, we continued our journey to a nearby coastal naval base where Uncle’s other son proudly works. We stood quietly by the sea, watching naval boats and small ferries bobbing in the water, feeling the salty ocean breeze against our faces. We visited his apartment, met his welcoming family, and shared more stories before beginning the long, dark drive back to Kota Bharu.
We finally arrived back at Uncle’s home late at night. Just before we went to sleep, Uncle brought out something incredibly precious. With gentle, careful hands, he showed me an old, faded letter written long ago by my wife’s grandfather. He then pulled out a vintage photograph and an old, weathered identification card. Holding those delicate items—tangible pieces of personal history that had crossed vast oceans and decades—was the absolute perfect end to the day. After a delicious, home-cooked Malaysian dinner, I retreated to that beautiful wooden house and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Friday: Google Translate and Coconut Jelly
That brings me right back to the morning I woke up to the charming sounds of chickens and falling rambutan. It was Friday.
Uncle and I spent the early morning walking peacefully around his lush property. Since Zainab wasn't there to translate for us, Uncle and I communicated entirely through the Google Translate app on our smartphones. We laughed heartily 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 tree. Uncle has both Indian and Malay roots. His wife is of Chinese origin. Their hardworking daughter-in-law, a dedicated nurse, originates from near the Thai border. Under one single roof, so many cultures, traditions, 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 welcoming locals in a new country is always a profoundly peaceful and grounding experience. Afterward, the lively streets outside the mosque were bustling with vendors. We bought some fresh coconut jelly—it was cool, perfectly sweet, and incredibly refreshing under the midday tropical sun.
Next, we stopped at a large 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 warm 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, perfectly spicy, and delicious, reflecting the agricultural abundance of the area, which is packed with lush coconut groves and banana plantations.
The Long Journey Home
Eventually, it was time to say a hard goodbye. Uncle and the family drove me to the Kota Bharu Airport. I hugged them tightly, feeling deeply grateful for the unmatched hospitality and the incredible connection we had forged in such a remarkably short time.
I took a short flight back to Kuala Lumpur (KLIA2). After a few hours of waiting in the terminal, I finally boarded my AirAsia flight bound for Kochi.
As the plane lifted off the runway, I looked out the window and quietly said goodbye to Malaysia. It had been an unforgettable week of towering city skylines, historical museums, and, most importantly, discovering deep family roots.
Four hours later, the plane touched down safely 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 patiently for me by their car.
We loaded my bags, packed to the brim with Malaysian chocolates, fresh exotic fruits, and a heart full of memories. As we drove away from the airport, heading back toward the familiar roads of Oorakam Village, I knew that this special trip to Kota Bharu would be a story I would cherish and tell for the rest of my life.
Read My Malaysian Diaries
Ultra-low-budget backpacking diaries across stunning tropical landscapes.
- 👉 Langkawi: Island Vibes & Cable Cars
- 👉 Kuala Lumpur: Day 1 — City Pulse & Street Food
- 👉 Kuala Lumpur: Day 2 — Twin Towers & Heritage Sites
- 👉 Kelantan: Discovering Traditional Malaysian Identity
About the Author
Ikbal Valiyathodi is the founder of Ishabil.com, a dedicated travel blog sharing budget-friendly itineraries, smart stopover hacks, and authentic real-world experiences from across the globe. He firmly believes that travel should be simple, honest, and accessible to everyone.
