Sentul upon reflection

Old and new: The Fennel, a condominium with its unique asymmetric design, towering behind Sentul Depot, a railway workshop built in the early 1900s. — Filepic

Modernisation brings joy, and nostalgia for spaces of old

I grew up in Sentul, Kuala Lumpur.

My family moved there in the late 1980s, when the name “Sentul” meant very different things from what it does today.

It had a reputation for being rough around the edges; outsiders sometimes described it as run-down or unsafe, especially after dark.

But for those of us who lived there, it felt familiar and manageable.

Cows roamed freely along the roads, and people nonchalantly made way for them.

We knew where to get what we needed, which roads to avoid, which shops stayed open late and who to call when something went wrong.

Redevelopment in Sentul began in the 1990s, and I watched the roads expand, the railway quarters disappear and tall buildings rise in their place.

As a young girl, I felt excited that new developments were coming to my neighbourhood.

Railway quarters, terraced houses, and flats turned into commercial blocks and condominiums, changing the landscape bit by bit.

At the time, none of this felt particularly important.

All I cared about was school and playing with my friends in the evenings, usually at the neighbourhood playground.

Fast forward to today and Sentul looks very different, so much so that it can be difficult to imagine what it once was.

I left the township a decade ago and every time I went back, there seemed to be new development underway.

So when I heard that the Indian High Commission in Malaysia was collaborating with the Malaysia-India Heritage Society to organise a heritage walk in Sentul, to reminisce and rediscover the old railway town’s history, I signed up without hesitation.

The walk took the group to key places where the railway community once centred its activities.

Of all the stops we made, the open space now occupied by Sentul Raya Boulevard was the one Sentul residents reminisced about most.

They spoke fondly of the times they played football or gathered for evening movie screenings at the site, simply enjoying the freedom of open space.

It made me wonder what it would be like if that open space had been retained.

Of course, Sentul Raya Boulevard today is a hub of activity with banks, clinics, convenience stores and restaurants filling most of the lots and providing much-needed services for the surrounding community.

But in my imagination, I can picture it as a mini Dataran Merdeka, an open public space where the community can gather, play and reconnect, much like other squares that have become part of city life.

Many other open fields in Sentul faced a similar fate over the years.

Today, parts of the township are almost unrecognisable.

In the old Sentul, key landmarks included the Sentul police station, Sentul Pasar, temples and churches.

Now, tall buildings and commercial hubs dominate the landscape – including the strikingly futuristic skyscraper condominium The Fennel, which has almost become the poster child of modern Sentul.

The area is cleaner and more organised, and for many, this is progress.

Indeed it is. Sentul has found a new identity, one that attracts visitors and new residents who see possibilities everywhere.

But for those of us who grew up here, the changes come with mixed feelings.

Sometimes, walking through Sentul feels like meeting an old friend who has changed completely.

You’re happy for them, proud even, but you quietly miss the version you once knew.