“Pa, my foreign friends were so impressed with our banknotes. They really liked the attractive designs and even commented on Tuanku Abdul Rahman’s headdress, saying that it makes our first Yang di-Pertuan Agong look resplendent and dignified,” my daughter exclaims excitedly the moment she returned from the recently-held Asian Science Camp in Perak.
The moment she disappeared into her room to unpack, I reach for my wallet, fish out a 20 Ringgit note and begin to examine it closely. Like most people, I’d never really scrutinised our currency notes despite using it daily in exchange for goods bought and services rendered. This time however, I begin to notice its many unique Malaysian features; above all, our first Supreme Head of State’s tengkolok.
Tuanku Abdul Rahman ibni Almarhum Tuanku Muhammad is featured prominently on all Malaysian currency notes by virtue of being elected the first Paramount Ruler of Malaya on Aug 3, 1957. In a tradition that continues to be practised to this day, a secret ballot was conducted among the nine Malay State monarchs to choose our first Head of State. In that historic poll, the ruler of Negeri Sembilan defeated the more senior Sultan Abu Bakar of Pahang by a seven-vote margin.
Intrigued by the elegant royal headdress, I decide to learn more about this little known area of traditional Malay culture.
The male headcover
Excitedly, I settle myself at the state public library’s well stocked reference section. Within an hour, I manage to assemble quite a sizeable stack of books and journals dwelling either specifically or partially on this interesting subject matter.
The first question on my mind is answered when I learn that the custom of wearing a head cloth was first mentioned in a 9th century Kedah chronicle. The early text states that functionaries or office bearers at that time were required to tie up their hair and wrap a handkerchief around their heads.
After that, the pile of references is silent on the use of any form of male head covering until the time of the Melaka Sultanate, some 600 years later. Then, for the first time I start to see a proliferation in the use of the word tengkolok.
At the height of their influence over the lucrative regional trade in the 15th century, the Malays living in Melaka were exposed to a dazzling array foreign fashion and enjoyed a wide variety of imported clothing material to satisfy their every whim and fancies. Interestingly though, despite all these influences brought in by traders from all over the world, the Malays managed to successfully maintain their cultural individuality.
It was said that the Melaka ruler, Sultan Mahmud Shah, dispatched his most trusted Malay official to India in 1500 to acquire 40 lengths of patterned cloth to dress his royal household. The official, failing to find anything that could fulfill the needs of his ruler, instead began drawing intricate designs from memory based on the traditional woodcarvings in the Melaka Palace. He subsequently had them reproduced by the Indian cloth manufacturers before leaving for home.
Unlike today, the male practice of wearing their hair long in the 15th century warranted the use of head cloths at all levels of society. As history has proven time and again, the Malay genius for converting utility to elegance gave birth to innumerable variations in which a square piece of cloth can be tied. The most amazing thing is that all these styles are purely local in origin and not copied from other countries. Even the Malay word tengkolok has completely no foreign association.
It was said that Tun Mutahir, the brilliant and influential Melaka Bendahara (a post equivalent to a present day Prime Minister), had one of the largest collections of tengkolok at that time. Each headress was different from its counterpart, both in style and colour. All were kept ready tied on wooden stands. The Sejarah Melayu paints Tun Muhatir as a rather vain person and he was reputed to change his clothes seven times a day in front of the long mirror!
Evolution of the Tengkolok
Over the course of several centuries, the styles of the headdress gradually evolved to denote the rank of the wearer as well as his occupation. The people living in each Malay state also began developing their own unique styles. The male members of the royal family and high ranking officials each wore a headdress of a distinctive shape and, in the case of royalty, a particular colour that no one else could use.
The unique headdress shapes, especially those for rulers, were very often associated with rather picturesque names. During his installation at Istana Negara on Sept 4, 1957, Tuanku Abdul Rahman wore his state’s royal head gear named Dendam Tak Sudah (Unending Longing). Another precedent was set on that momentous day as all subsequent elected Yang di-Pertuan Agongs also adopted this particular tengkolok style when they assumed the highest office in the country.
The continuous use of the same headdress style by successive monarchs as in the case of Dendam Tak Sudah was not necessarily practiced by rulers back in their respective states. A good case in point was Perak where Sultan Idris Iskandar Shah was said to prefer a tengkolok in the style of “a chicken with a broken wing” while his predecessor, Sultan Yussuf Izzuddin Shah, wore one that closely resembled “a split coconut”.
Some Malay state rulers, on the other hand, preferred to adopt headdress styles that reminded them of certain milestone events in their lives. A tengkolok in the shape of a coffee leaf was adopted more than a century ago by the first Sultan of the modern Pahang dynasty to remind himself of the occasion when he was fighting for the throne. During those turbulent and uncertain times, his fortunes were at such a low ebb that he and his followers could only afford to drink unsweetened black coffee!
Things were done a little differently in Kedah and Terengganu. In both these northern states, the styles worn by the highest state officials reflected directly on the names of their traditional court appointments. The style worn by the principal officer of Kedah was known as the Bendahara while that of the second most senior official was referred to as the Temenggong.
Fashioning the Tengkolok
As I become more engrossed in the topic, it dawns on me just how complex it is to fashion the tengkolok. Thankfully, I found an article that manages to explain in detail the steps involved and in simple layman terms.
The text is based on the experiences of a member of the Kedah Civil Service, Che Mohamed Akib bin Yaakob. He was the Kota Star District Officer in the 1950s and was reputed to be one of the very few people in the country who had the knowledge of tying all the known traditional tengkolok varieties.
According to the text, the superior quality cloth used must be a square with a dimension of exactly 34 inches on all side. The cloth itself must always be of only one colour — often black, purple, dark red or green. It was usually ornamented with gold and silver threads, and woven in a traditional flower pattern.
To make a good tengkolok, the square cloth must first be folded into a triangle by bringing the two opposing corners together. In Kedah, the two ends of the cloth or tips are referred to as kuasa (authority or power). The tips are only tied together to form a knot only after the major folds have been made. The position of this knot determines the status of the wearer. The wearer is either a member of the royal family or a holder of a senior government post in the state if the knot is over the left ear.
The opposite goes for the tengkolok worn by commoners. In the past, only warriors or pirates wore their tengkolok with the knot placed at the back. Che Mohamed Akib advocated placing the loosely folded head-dress on the head first to determine a good fit before tightening the folds and securing the tips properly.
Fate of the traditional headdress
Returning the last remaining book back to its original place on a nearby shelf, I take some time to ponder the fate of the tengkolok in our modern society. The general habit of wearing a proper headdress daily has all but disappeared.
Today, only a rather crude form survives in rural areas and even then the cloth worn is no longer square but a multi-purpose length of thin cotton which also serves as a waistcloth or even towel.
The shapes in which this simplified modern version is tied no longer bear much resemblance to the traditional tengkolok styles. Despite that, there still remains distinct differences. In Kelantan, for example, the farmer, carpenter and fisherman has his own style, and so does the puppeteer To’ Dalang and the silat To’ Guru.
As I take my leave and make my way out of the library building, I suddenly notice a Malay couple dressed in their wedding finery posing for photographs at the nearby Kedah Volunteer Force building.
The bridegroom’s magnificent headdress reminds me that all is not lost for the tengkolok. After all, it’s the accepted tradition that all male Malay newlyweds are treated as “King for a day” and it is on such special occasions that the splendour of the tengkolok is put on display for the world to see.