The old Coliseum Theatre was a place that I would grip my dad’s hands tightly as we passed to go to his favourite western food haunt, the Coliseum Cafe & Hotel. I could never understand then, why he would take me to this place where time stood still, to have steaks that sizzled & smoked the entire joint as if the dish was on fire. As far as I can remember, we would walk hand in hand, I would ask him why there were so many dark people at the theatre. He said that they were Indians who went there to watch a movie. Tamil movies. Over time, I would always ask him a question whenever we walked passed this theatre. It was like a trivial pursuit with my dad. And I was fascinated with dark people with big, big eyes.
I had to think of things to ask my dad because I noticed that everyone would be silent when we reached here, I would continue to badger dad about why Indian people wanted to go to Coliseum & not Cathay or Pavillion or Rex. Dad would then tell me stories about Batu Road, now called Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman. He told me lots of stories then. I think I was about six or seven years old. Of late, it was made known that Coliseum would be denied of its existence due to the interest of an arts centre that would replace this bustling theatre. The manner in which the Culture, Arts & Heritage Minister acquired the building in the name of ‘national interest,’ was embarassing. He even stated that it surpassed all other interests. Dr. Chua, the owner of the premise, had been upkeeping & maintaining the theatre ever since he inherited it & to say that national interest is greater than Dr. Chua & all the Indian movie-goers’ interests, he is in fact, saying that we don’t need to preserve a culture that has been there even before he became a minister. He would rather have an artsy-fartsy centre & do away with a centre that has long served the needs of a community that grew up knowing & loving Coliseum for whatever it is worth.
Now I have no hand to hold when I walk this street, no one I could ask trivias to, no stories to be told to me but a facade of old that brings me memories of my dad whenever I feel like a walk down memory lane to look at dark, dark people with big, big eyes. Now they’re going to take that away from me too. Shame on you, minister.
I wonder sometimes about the ppl that we elect into office. Love the brussel sprouts there.
I like watching the old waiters serve the hainanese bread! Oh, I like the bread too!