Echoes in Brick and Lime

ANN MARIE CHANDY | 29 April 2026

THERE are many parts of Kuala Lumpur I had long overlooked. Before working with WarisanKL.my, my memories of KL city centred around historic landmarks like the Dayabumi, Bangunan Sultan Abdul Samad, Central Market, Panggung Bandaraya DBKL, Royal Selangor Club, St Mary's Cathedral Kuala Lumpur and transport hubs like the KL Raiway Station or the Klang Bus Station and Pudu Raya.

However, since I have started writing about KL city, and in particular, the areas associated with Warisan KL, it has been a real pleasure discovering so much about Kuala Lumpur – its history, its communities, its architectural heritage, and the food, of course!

One stretch of town that I seem to have completely missed out of, is Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman (Jln TAR) and its surrounding areas, all north of Central Market and Petaling Street, which I seemed to be more drawn to.
My memories of this stretch of the city were fleeting and specific – childhood visits to Globe Silk Store along Jln TAR, the thrill of fabrics in every imaginable colour, and leaving with a new outfit from off the racks in hand.

Now, walking these streets – Jalan TAR, Jalan Tun Perak, Jalan Melayu and Jalan Tun HS Lee – I realise how much I had missed by not paying more attention.

The buildings here do not announce themselves loudly. They do not need to. They endure, quietly holding decades of stories within their walls.

The Sultan Abdul Samad Building, completed in 1897, stands with quiet authority by Dataran Merdeka. Its domes and clock tower feel ceremonial, a reminder of Kuala Lumpur’s colonial past, yet it has long outgrown that singular identity. Today, it anchors the city’s civic memory – a familiar backdrop to national celebrations and everyday photographs alike.

A short walk away, the skyline softens. Masjid Jamek, built in 1909 at the confluence of the Klang and Gombak rivers, offers a different presence – less about spectacle, more about continuity. Despite the movement around it, the mosque remains a steady centre of daily life, drawing worshippers and passers-by into its orbit.

Across from it, Jalan Tun Perak reveals quieter layers of history. The Oriental Building, completed in 1932, was once the tallest structure in the city. Its Art Deco lines – clean, vertical, restrained – reflect a moment when modernity was expressed through geometry and confidence. Standing before it, it is easy to imagine a time when this was Kuala Lumpur’s cutting edge.

From here, the route towards Jalan TAR via Jalan Melayu offers a shift in pace. The streets narrow into a lived-in rhythm – makeshift stalls, passing conversations, the hum of trade. Jai Hind Restaurant, established before the Second World War, remains a constant, serving Punjabi cuisine to generations of regulars.

Emerging into Jalan Masjid India, one of the city’s key Indian-Muslim enclaves. On one side stands Wisma Yakin, long associated with tailors and local designers. On the other is Masjid India (pic above), whose origins date back to 1863. Its South Indian architectural influences – onion domes, arched windows and a single minaret – reflect the community it serves, where sermons are conducted in both Arabic and Tamil.

Further along, Selangor Mansion and Malayan Mansion stand with little of the polish they once had. It is easy to dismiss their worn facades, but these were once among the most modern residential developments in Kuala Lumpur – early high-rise flats equipped with lifts in the 1960s, housing families and entrepreneurs who shaped the city’s post-independence years. Today, they remain lived in, their relevance quieter but enduring.

Wisma Yakin, opened in 1976, holds its place in history as one of the earliest business premises for Malay traders in the capital.

Jalan TAR itself offers a different rhythm altogether. Formerly known as Batu Road, it has evolved into a commercial artery that rarely pauses. Textile shops, gold merchants and long-standing department stores line its nearly two-kilometre stretch.

Some landmarks continue to carry their identity across generations. Coliseum Cinema (LFS today), opened in 1921, still stands with its neoclassical façade, a reminder of an era when cinema-going was an event. At the opposite end, Odeon Cinema echoes a similar past. These spaces, whether fully operational or repurposed, hold memories of shared experiences.

Built in 1920, the Coliseum Theatre (now LFS) is one of the oldest cinemas in the country.

It is also here that Globe Silk Store endures, alongside now familiar names like Gulati’s, Kamdar and Muaz – anchors of continuity in a street defined by change. Nearby, Semua House has found new life after recent refurbishment, reimagined as a space that blends commerce with community.

A 15-minute walk away, Jalan Tun HS Lee – once High Street – also feels like stepping into an older Kuala Lumpur. Lined with some of the city’s earliest brick shophouses, dating back to the late 19th century, the street rewards those who slow down. Look closely and you will notice timber shutters, five-foot ways, beautiful tiles, airwells and gables. (Tip: You might want to check out Origin & Evolution of the Malayan Shophouse, by Robert Powell with photography by Lin Ho, before you step out on a discovery walk).

These shophouses were never about grandeur. They were designed for function – for living and working within the same space. Many have changed over time, but their core remains intact, a testament to their adaptability.
Even newer spaces seem to understand this. Kafe Kleptokrat, Timothy Cafe and LOKL all occupy older buildings without erasing their age, allowing exposed walls and textures to tell their own story. Further along, the Godown Arts Centre – once a Dutch warehouse and later a cabaret venue – continues its life as a space for the arts.

Many of the shophouses along Jalan Tun HS Lee still retain their original five-foot ways, with tiled floors and brickwork that lend them a quietly nostalgic, retro feel – like stepping back in time.

Walking these streets is a reminder that heritage is not always immediately visible. It is not confined to monuments or preserved in perfect condition. Often, it exists in the everyday – in worn staircases, repainted facades, buildings that continue to serve despite their imperfections.

Here, heritage reveals itself slowly. It asks you to pay attention, to reconsider what you thought you knew. These buildings do not just frame the streets – they define them, holding within them the ambitions, struggles and adaptations of generations.

And as you walk, step by step, they begin to speak – not loudly, but persistently – reminding you that Kuala Lumpur’s story is still being written, one facade at a time.