My mum turns 90 on Wednesday. She is the only 90-year old I know, up close and personal.

None of my immediate family members got this far. My dad and my maternal grandmother left at 62. My paternal grandfather exited at 72 while my father-in-law passed on at 82, a distant contender. Kudos to my mum for making it thus far. The birthday girl doesn’t agree with me but that’s only because the last couple of years have been particularly tough on her.

I remember … up until two years ago, my mum was in-charge of her own personal well-being and health care. She lived on her own in her condominium. She kept inventory of things that needed to bought and replenished. Occasionally, she did some cooking. She tended to her aloe vera plants on the balcony. Knew how to operate her remote control and television so she could watch her Tamil soaps. She was semi-independent/independent. She was the queen of her castle.

She was mentally and physically competent until August 2021. Gratefully, my mum is still competent. Mentally, she is sharp and witty but forgetful. If her ears worked better or rather worked at all, she would be more engaged. Physically, not so much. She needs help standing, walking etc. Her organs are tired and worn. Some are slower and less reliable than others. Like an old car. She starts well on some days. Not so, on others. Sputters, stops. And then, somehow, plods on.

I remember … the old girl was always active and a keen learner/observer. She walked purposefully, not only in our condominium as part of her daily exercise, when she lived with my husband and me, but also wherever we visited. My mum actually braved the sturdy but swingy 150-metre-long canopy walkway at the Forest Reserve Institute of Malaysia (FRIM). She walked the three sections of the suspended bridge, which was 30-metres above ground or about 9-storeys high. With muscle memory in her favour, she  conquered another canopy walkway in Janda Baik, Pahang.

I remember… when my mum lived with brother number 1, she and I did day-trips once a week on Thursday. We explored Colmar Tropicale, the French village, in Bukit Tinggi, drove up to Fraser’s Hill, and climbed up to a waterfall in Templer’s Park. On local holidays, she rode the rides at Genting Highlands, walked up to the very top of the Penang Hill temple and visited her family home in Butterworth. As a passenger, she’d look out for fruit trees, plants, and flowers, and identify them. Her favourites were durian and mango trees that she pointed out along roads and highways. 

I remember … my mum was an excellent cook/baker. Her ‘nai orundu’ and ‘muruku’ were to die for. These two Indian delicacies made an annual appearance at Deepavali. Growing up in Alor Setar, she used to bake ‘kuihs’ over a charcoal fire, for afternoon tea. There was always either ‘tepung talam’ – the brown base and white santan version, coconut jelly or pink  ‘pulut kacau’ or ‘wajik’ served up. Although my mum wasn’t into western desserts, she baked delicious flapjacks and cheese scones for my husband. Her meticulous cooking style demanded only original ingredients. Alternatives and/or replacements were not entertained. Instructions and processes had to be adhered to strictly. I’m not one for savoury food but I especially liked my mum’s crab curry with ‘chapati’ and ‘assam laksa.’ This is true. My mum’s ‘assam laksa’ could give the long-established Alor Setar born restaurant, ‘Ah Cheng Laksa’ a run for its money.

I remember … my mum’s daily schedule was dual-focussed, bathing and praying. The standard joke was ‘you will find her in one of two places –  the bathroom or the altar.’ The hours spent each morning literally scrubbing her skin with a wash cloth always left me wondering how she still managed to have skin. My mum believed her body accumulated dirt that needed to be scrubbed off. As her current shower-giver, I’m not sure where the dirt has disappeared to or if I’m not doing a good job.

Her other waking moments was spent praying for her family. Seven children, nine grandchildren, five great-grandchildren, sons and daughters-in-law as well as matters that required God’s attention. Understandably, she had a long list to get through. She was steadfast with her daily prayers. She  observed tradition and religious practices. Still does, to some extent. And, continues to have vegetarian meals on Monday and Friday, and most other days.

I remember … the family gathered from near and far for my mum’s 70^th and 80^th birthdays. In two days, it will be her 90th birthday. A shadow of her former self, yes. But she has had nine long decades of living, loving, caring, sadness, sacrifices, hardship, excitement, happiness, and challenges. An achievement, in itself. And, a grand milestone to be honoured and celebrated.

Happy 90th Birthday, Botyma.