THE sound of applause brought her out of her reverie. Her small hands smoothed the front of her uniform. When she was ready, she stood and walked slowly towards the stage.
The large audience, mostly staff members and colleagues, had gathered to witness the auspicious event. On stage, a Caucasian woman in a beige dress beamed proudly at the small lady approaching her.
All around, people smiled and mouthed congratulatory messages. After serving more than two decades — 26 years to be exact — it was time for Siew Yin to retire as a housekeeper, a role she'd held since the now-defunct Merlin Hotel opened its doors in 1959.
A camera flashed as she extended both hands to receive her commemorative plaque engraved with the words "Long Service Award".
"I don't remember much from that day, except thinking to myself that I was now officially without work," recalls Siew Yin, now well into her 80s, before breaking into a smile.
Siew Yin, who happens to be my grandmother, officially retired to care for her grandson — a role that, perhaps, brought her greater fulfillment than the physically demanding work she once did at the hotel.
As I gaze into her rheumy eyes, I can still see the pride and tender love shining through, a quiet testament to the years of hard work and sacrifice she devoted to her family and life.
THE PAST
Siew Yin's recent health scare sparked an idea: I needed to talk to my grandmother about her time working at the hotel — one of the busiest and possibly the largest hotels in modern Malaya when she first opened her doors.
Merlin hotel, now Concorde Hotel in Jalan Sultan Ismail, Kuala Lumpur, was built in 1957 in what was then known as Treacher Road. Founded by the late Datuk Lim Foo Yong, it was one of the city's first international-standard hotels, representing an early post-independence milestone in the country's hospitality industry.
When it opened, the hotel boasted what was then considered state-of-the-art in-room amenities, such as telephones and a separate radio relay system. It had over 204 rooms, with 100 reserved for long-term guests.
Like my grandmother, my grandfather and both my parents worked at the same hotel, each sharing a slice of its past glory. My late grandfather was a floor captain, cutting a handsome figure in his white suit.
My father worked as an auditor, and my mother was a cashier in the coffeehouse. It was here that they met, fell in love and lived happily ever after.
As for my grandmother, she still makes her bed to hotel standards: sheets tucked neatly at all four corners, pillows fluffed each morning, and the blanket folded and tucked at the top and side of the bed.
While reminiscing, Siew Yin beckons me over to help her stand. She shuffles slowly to the wooden cabinet where she keeps her valuables — what we call her treasure chest — containing her most prized possessions.
After a moment of rummaging, she pulls out a stack of old photographs, their colours faded and yellowed with age.
"There you are! I always knew this would come in handy," she exclaims, handing them to me. "You can have them if you want," she adds casually, before plonking herself back in her chair.
As I turn the pages, gently separating the fragile glassine sheets, each photograph reveals a moment frozen in time — snapshots of the hotel and its occupants, pulling me into a world that feels both distant and achingly alive.
Many of the people in the photographs have since passed on. Those who remain have formed a Facebook group to reconnect. Once a year, they arrange a gathering to reminisce about the good old days.
I've had the chance to accompany my grandmother and parents to some of these gatherings. Most attendees are well into their twilight years.
FOND MEMORIES
As grandma shares stories from the past, one in particular stands out.
"There was a time we were short-staffed, so I recommended my cousin to join me in housekeeping. She was nearly dismissed on her first day," she recounts.
According to my grandmother, her cousin — being inexperienced — had ruined a guest's handkerchief while ironing it.
Ironically, it wasn't her supervisor who was upset but her uncle, who had to bear the compensation.
"It cost him 10 Malayan dollars, which was quite a substantial sum in those days. He scolded me for bringing my cousin to work," she recalls.
I also brought up the topic of ghostly encounters in the hotel building, as I believe that readers may be interested in spooky tales.
But her quick reply ends my short attempt to get a juicy story out of her.
"Cheh, mau gui geh la! (No ghost, in Hakka dialect). Where got ghost? I never met or felt any presence during my time there," she remarks, shaking her head.
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
After a moment's pause, Siew Yin leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you know your parents met at the hotel where they worked and later fell in love?"
With a twinkle in her eye and a playful smile, she continues, only pausing occasionally to catch her breath.
Speaking in rapid-fire Hakka, a dialect I've known since childhood, I can't help but giggle when she tells me how shy my father was, needing a colleague to play matchmaker.
"Ang was the one who set them up. Your father couldn't even muster the courage to say 'hello' to your mum!" she shares, chuckling.
This went on for a few months before my ever-shy father finally summoned the courage to ask her out.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Have you ever stayed at the Merlin Hotel? If so, what are your fondest memories?