by Dr Rahim Said
Back in 1998, Desa Sri Hartamas was your typical middle-class enclave in West Kuala Lumpur — manicured lawns, Uncle Don’s café, and skeletons rattling quietly in every closet.
Among the 288 houses, there were whispered stories. None more legendary than the night one man declared war… on potted plants.
Three police cars turned up, lights blazing, to find a man in full meltdown mode, smashing every flower pot in front of a two-storey house like he was auditioning for Sepahtu Reunion Live: Marital Edition, a popular local variety show
Bougainvilleas, orchids, money plants — none were spared. He reached over the gate, grabbed more, and hurled them on to the driveway with the fury of a man scorned by both wife and gardening society.
Neighbours gathered like moths to a kampung fire. Security guards watched, useless. The Residents’ Committee formed a semi-circle, all pretending to be shocked but secretly hoping for some juicy details.
The man kept muttering, “You deserve this… you deserve this…” while glaring up at a pale face behind the curtain on the first-floor window.
“Why aren’t they arresting him?” someone asked, gesturing towards the cops.
A jaded police officer replied without missing a beat, “It’s his house. That’s his wife up there.”
As if on cue, the man shouted, “I’ll come back and smash every single pot you buy until you say yes!”
He jumped into his Porche and sped off, leaving behind a driveway that looked like a war zone after a particularly violent flower festival.
A new resident, clearly regretting his decision to buy property in this madhouse area, asked, “Yes to what?”
An old-timer grinned, flicking his cigarette away. “Same story every year. Woman won’t let him marry another wife.”
“Serious?”
“Serious. Wilayah religious law says you need the first wife’s consent. Unlike Kelantan — over there, you just fill out a form and maybe buy a goat.”
Everyone laughed, but not too loud — except for one fellow, Rahman from No. 42, who laughed a little too heartily.
Someone elbowed him. “Eh, careful Rahman. You tried this once, remember?”
Oh yes, Rahman. Legend had it he attempted the same move years ago, complete with threats, ultimatums, and even a “religious justification” pamphlet from a dodgy ustaz.
His wife calmly let him finish his rant, called a lawyer the next morning, and by the end of the month, Rahman was living in a rented flat in Kepong, his car sold, half his savings gone, and visitation rights scheduled by court order.
“Nothing like a woman scorned,” the old-timer chuckled, as the group dispersed.
In this part of Malaysia, a man can dream of a second wife, threaten the flower pots, and even quote scripture — but at the end of the day, it’s the missus who decides whether you keep your begonias, your bank account, and your crown jewels.
WE