The tradition of the dhobi wallah in Malaysia dates back to the British colonial era, specifically the early 19th century, when Indian immigrants brought with them the meticulous practice of hand-washing, drying, and pressing clothes. While modern laundromats have largely replaced these skilled washermen, the tradition is still alive in certain parts of the country. In the city of Ipoh, three dedicated dhobis—two sisters and a couple—continue to uphold this centuries-old craft.

For most of us, doing laundry is a routine chore, something we tackle on weekends either at home or at a laundromat. But for these remaining dhobi masters, laundry is an art, one that involves hand-washing clothes with precision and care, hanging them to dry under the sun. Yet, this tradition is fading as customers increasingly opt for the convenience of washing machines and dryers. Despite this, dhobis like Packiam Nithiyanathan, Mani, and Elangovathi in Ipoh have turned laundry into a heartfelt ritual, preserving their craft with passion and skill.




These dhobis are more than just washers-they are custodians of a rich heritage. Every garment they handle is treated with reverence, and every crease they iron out tells a story of perseverance. However, the realities they face are far from idyllic. For Aunty Packiam, one of the last dhobis in Ipoh, running the family business has become a solitary endeavor. Once a bustling family operation, her dhobi wallah on Persiaran Bekor now struggles to survive in a world that demands speed over tradition.

The process at a dhobi wallah is labor-intensive. It takes about two hours of scrubbing, washing, and cleaning to properly treat each batch of clothes. With her husband now passed away and fewer customers coming in, Aunty Packiam manages the business alone, carefully balancing the workload to avoid overexerting herself. Yet, the care and dedication she puts into every fabric remain undiminished.

In her prime, Packiam’s backyard was filled with sarees and veshtis—Indian garments—billowing in the breeze. Today, that once-vibrant space is a quieter, nostalgic remnant of what it used to be. The clientele has also changed, with most customers now preferring laundromats for their convenience. But for those who still seek out her services, especially brides-to-be and families who trust her with their delicate sarees, Packiam’s work is invaluable.



The process begins with fabrics soaked in water and scrubbed on washstones to remove dirt and stains. The garments are then rinsed and hung to dry under the Malaysian sun. Once dry, they are carefully ironed using an old, heavy iron—one of the few relics left from a bygone era. Unlike modern electric irons, this one delivers deep, penetrating heat, which Packiam lovingly refers to as her "god," as it gives her work meaning and purpose.

Packiam acknowledges the challenges of keeping this tradition alive, especially as the last of her generation still practicing the craft. Her children have yet to take an interest in continuing the family business, but she remains committed, filled with gratitude for the opportunity to preserve a tradition that holds deep personal significance.

In a world where technology has taken over many aspects of daily life, the craftsmanship of Ipoh’s last remaining dhobi wallahs serves as a reminder of a simpler time. While the future of this tradition may seem uncertain, the dedication of these dhobis ensures that their story will remain vibrant, their skills woven into the fabric of history.

Even if their presence may fade, the memory of their craft will linger, etched into the hearts of those who appreciate the art and history behind the dhobi wallah tradition.

Source / Image Credit : The Smart Local Malaysia