Growing up in Malaysia during the 2000s, many of us remember watching "Hikayat Putera Shazlan", a local TV series filled with magical adventures, moral values, and fantasy elements. But as I look back, I realize there’s a much deeper layer to this story—one that quietly reflects the hidden struggles of vulnerable children, trauma, and emotional survival.
The story follows Shazlan, an orphaned boy sent to live with his aunt, Mak Som, who subjects him to daily emotional abuse. She represents the cold, manipulative family member many children fear—someone who treats you like a burden while masking it with societal norms like "family responsibility." Yet, despite the mistreatment, Shazlan never tells his father.
On the surface, it looks like a tale of loyalty and patience. But digging deeper, it reflects a reality many of us grew up with—silence in the face of abuse, fearing that speaking up will make things worse. Maybe Shazlan stayed quiet not because he accepted the abuse, but because he feared retaliation or breaking the fragile bond he had left with his father.
One of the most fascinating elements is the "magic book" Shazlan finds. As a child, I saw it as just part of the fantasy. But now, I view it differently. The magic book could symbolize Shazlan’s psychosis symptoms or coping mechanism—his mind creating voices and guidance when no one else cared. The book offered him advice, solutions, and comfort when the adults around him failed. For a child isolated in pain, hallucinating a protective force is not uncommon. It’s survival. It’s resilience.
During that era, mental health awareness was minimal. People assumed therapy was only for the "crazy," and counselors often lacked professionalism, sometimes gossiping instead of helping. Children like Shazlan were left with no safe space, forced to depend on their own minds to survive—imagining magical help, voices, and escapes.
Shazlan’s story speaks of the quiet endurance many Malaysian children knew too well. "Jangan buka aib keluarga"—never expose the family's shame. So we learned to carry our pain in silence, pretending everything was fine.
As I reflect, "Hikayat Putera Shazlan" is no longer just a children’s fantasy show to me. It is a silent, unintentional commentary on childhood trauma, resilience, and how our minds find ways to cope when the world refuses to protect us.
To anyone who grew up feeling unheard or unseen, you are not alone. And sometimes, our imaginations were never just fantasies—they were the only safe place we had.
- Written by Kalvin