Chowrasta and the traditional marketplace

THERE is a quiet back lane behind the throbbing Chowrasta marketplace of George Town where hidden from public gaze is a curious old signboard. Bent and worn by the elements, it reads "Piccadilly Bazaar".

Unlike the crowded busy square in London it is named after, the little space the board refers to has only 20-odd idle shops. A few tailors, some curio and antique sellers, and textile retailers lie in perpetual wait for customers in a musty cast-iron building roofed with clay tiles and ageing timber beams.

Piccadilly was once a popular shopping venue for Penang folk before the Japanese invasion in the 1940s. Today, it is a pale shadow of its former commercial glory.

In fact, there was a time in George Town when anyone looking for some good bargains and colourful shopping experience would invariably think of Chowrasta. Located in the heart of the city, the century-old collection of small bazaars and shops has today also lost much of its draw.

The fading appeal of Chowrasta and its neighbourhood is in no small part due to the proliferation of shopping malls and hypermarkets.

Unlike its heyday, Chowrasta and other traditional markets suffer from dwindling interest from local communities. Just ask the traders in Chowrasta's "Jual Murah" enclave.

Despite their colourful assortment of wares - sarong, batek fabrics, songkok, lush Persian-style rugs, scarves and so on – demand has declined tremendously, with shoppers now preferring hypermarkets and shopping centres.

The plight of Chowrasta is reflective of the state of similar markets, especially in this new era of consumerism where large retail corporations siphon the masses with their bulk discounts, entertainment and other services.

One may say the traditional marketplaces face a big challenge in adapting to the times, or in somehow bringing back the charm and appeal that attracted people in the olden days.

Roughly translated from Hindi and Urdu, Chowrasta means "four cross-roads". Indeed, the famous shopping venue is at a crossroads after more than a century in existence.

For it was announced earlier this week that the Penang Island Municipal Council is to undertake a RM12 million refurbishing exercise to rejuvenate Chowrasta by the end of the year. The upgrading, to incorporate eco-friendly features while preserving the heritage identity of the site, is the first since the market's last facelift in 1961.

Records show that the original wet market was built sometime in the 1870s. A front portion was added in 1920 and the whole building was torn down and rebuilt as seen today in 1961.

Traditionally, the century-old marketplace has had a distinctly singular character, very different from its namesake in India, the touristy Chowrasta square of Darjeeling.

Swarming the wet markets, the thrift bazaars, the antique shops and the roadside hawkers, people haggle over a motley of things mundane and eccentric – preserved nutmeg, Shakespeare books, straw hats, fresh green broccolis, imitation designer sunglasses, antique watches, T-shirts, caps and undergarments.

There is even a corner where an old sewing machine from the 1940s still spins and whirrs away in the hands of a tailor stitching traditional dresses, scarves and headgear in good old-fashioned Malay style.

During the years when Penang was a duty-free port before the late sixties, the cheap Jual Murah items attracted Malay customers from as far away as South Thailand and Kedah, as well as workers and migrants from Sumatra who lived in George Town.

Many British people also came here to celebrate. A huge rusted signboard of the Broadway Café still looms high near the entrance of the Jual Murah. A Chinese herbal shop now occupies the first floor area where the westerners had famous bar fights.