“If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his own language, it goes to his heart.”

- Nelson Mandela.

COMMENT | A few years ago, I went on a backpacking trip with my kids over the school holidays. We were living in KL at the time and so we decided on three great locations easily accessible to us.

The first spot we visited was Klang. Not having been to Klang for donkey’s years at the time, I was overwhelmed at the raw beauty of the town. And so there we were, equipped with our cameras, hitting every street and alley, looking for picture-perfect settings to capture.

After having taken several photographs, I came upon a street called Jalan Pokok Sena where an old building stood majestically. As amazed as I was by the almost vintage look of the row of shophouses, my eyes were glued to a corner shop – a tailor’s.

Now, I must tell you that this wasn’t any regular tailor’s, not like the ones I come across in my hometown Penang, or in the city where I am now based. The shop had old, antique-looking sewing machines in front, rows of old wooden cabinets inside and two huge tables where two elderly tailors were busy measuring and cutting cloth.

It looked like a scene right out of the past and I knew I had to take some shots. So, after enjoying delightful bowls of Klang’s very own Cathay Assam Laksa and a humble bowl of ABC (shaved ice in syrup), I excused myself from my kids and headed to the shop, seeking permission before getting my lenses into action.

“Uncle, can I please take some pictures?” I asked the elderly gentleman busy sewing.

He turned to look at me without uttering a word.

Confused, I repeated...