In our estate, we looked forward to the days when our kacang putih Uncle would show up with his wares. He would go from house to house carrying an array of kacang putih on a wooden tray that could double up as a table.
It had four legs and multiple drawers and compartments to store several types of kacang or nuts, vadai and, my favourite, sweet green peas bonda.
Kacang putih Uncle was a petite five feet. His dark complexion, deep eyebags and wrinkled cheeks were a testament to his days of walking under the hot sun vending his goods. Dressed in a blue shirt and dhoti, with neatly combed greying hair, he walked with his a full load of kacang putih on his table tray balanced on his head.
Yes, he walked while carrying his goodies on his head without an inch of difficulty. Everyone was in awe of how a man could walk for more than 3km into our estate under the scorching sun and yet serve us with a smile.
He was a soft-spoken man, with gentle mannerisms, and eternal patience. He entertained all of us without an ounce of irritation.
He came twice a month to our estate and the day he came was our happiest. He would come to our house courtyard. Our neighbours — Maniamma, Mani Edathi and Mala — along with my mother and three sisters, would gather around him.
We would usually buy the fried peanuts with skin intact at 5 sen per cylindrical pack, and of course, my favourite sweet green peas bonda, and have a feast with my elder sister's signature chaya. Nothing like a treat of kacang and bonda to make this chubby chap a very happy boy.
Sometimes, my parents would chat with him about his family in India. Otherwise, it was just work, work, work, for kacang putih Uncle. He never stopped at anyone's home for a glass of water or a cup of coffee or tea.
He was focused on his work and would diligently carry his tray on his head and walk from house to house without wasting any time.
Besides making his rounds twice a month, he would also join us during the open-air film shows at our football field. Usually, he would be busy serving customers and once his stock ran out, he would join us to watch the movie, too.
I am sure his tired legs and body needed a refreshing movie. Kacang putih Uncle deserves an award for his steadfastness and consistency in serving customers in the most delightful manner.
Kacang putih is too commercialised today. But our kacang putih Uncle never failed to ensure his goodies were of high standard.
Kacang putih Uncle may not be around now. His service to our estate will never fade from my memory. It was immeasurably joyful seeing him coming and making all of us so happy.
Rest in peace, my dear kacang putih Uncle. We had beautiful moments, but we did not take a picture of you, talk to you, or find out more about you.
How I wish we could turn back time and bring back our dear kacang putih Uncle to serve us his ever-delicious and crunchy offering. Rest in peace, uncle.
Today, the kacang putih business has changed a lot. It is pre-packed and sold in large quantities.
We see many young traders selling kacang putih, especially at shopping complexes and even hawkers on motorcycles and in vans. Ipoh is famous for kacang putih now.
I still miss my kacang putih Uncle!