Keramat 2 -

When Mira played the recording for Pak Hassan, he wept. “Tok Salmah is not angry,” he said. “She is tired. She just wants to be remembered.”

Most people know the story of Keramat Datuk Keramat — the shrine to a pious figure or local guardian spirit, marked by yellow cloth, incense, and offerings of roses and sticky rice. But few speak of Keramat 2 : the site of a 1970s condo development that went inexplicably wrong.

Instead, they paved over it.

In 2019, a university student named Mira decided to document Keramat 2 for an anthropology project. She placed a voice recorder on the spot where the grave was believed to be — now the back alley behind a fried chicken shop. At 2:22 AM, the recorder captured what sounds like a woman’s voice humming an old Malay lullaby, “Anak ayam turunlah sepuluh…” Then a sharp whisper: “Jangan bina di sini.” (Don’t build here.)

In the shadow of a newly built LRT extension, just off the bustling Jalan Keramat, sits a row of terrace houses that real estate agents politely describe as “vintage.” Residents call it something else: Keramat 2 — not an official address, but a whispered name. It refers to a patch of land where a second, forgotten keramat lies buried beneath concrete, car parks, and karaoke lounges. keramat 2

Today, a small keramat has been unofficially rebuilt — tucked between a dumpster and a motorcycle parking bay. You’ll see wilted jasmine garlands, a small cup of coffee, and a single yellow candle flickering against the wind. The condo’s management pretends not to notice. The cleaners know not to touch it.

By N. A. Rahman

By 1978, all original residents had moved out. The condos became low-budget offices, then a budget hotel. Now, it’s a half-empty commercial lot with a dodgy massage parlor and a 24-hour convenience store whose staff refuse to work the night shift alone.