#070: Hungry Ghost Festival

The Hungry Ghost Festival

When friends come from out of town, I usually take them on the usual Kuala Lumpur circuit — food, markets, maybe a late-night mamak session. But this time, their visit happened to coincide with the Hungry Ghost Festival, and I thought, why not show them something a little different?

I was actually out earlier in the day in Chiantown, trying to do my normal street photography stuff, but the light was bad, completely flat as it was overcast the whole morning, and I got no good photos. But by being out there, I noticed the preparations for the festival and made it a point to come back out that evening to witness it. And in doing so, I dragged some friends out, all of us who have not experienced this before, to have an evening in the city with me and my camera.

The Hungry Ghost Festival, or Zhongyuan Festival, is observed during the seventh month of the lunar calendar, a period when it is believed that the gates of the afterlife open and spirits wander among the living. In Malaysia, it is marked with offerings of food, incense, and joss paper — items symbolising wealth and comfort for the departed. Communities organise prayers, opera performances, and ritual burnings of elaborate paper effigies, all meant to honour ancestors and appease restless spirits. What makes it unique here is how the rituals blend into the everyday fabric of urban life, taking place in car parks, neighbourhood squares, and city streets, transforming ordinary spaces into temporary stages for something both sacred and communal.

So we headed to Petaling Street, right in the heart of Chinatown, where the streets were alive with energy, and tourists were all out and about for their evening meals. This will be my first time photographing this event, even though I’ve been aware of it for a long time. It’s a mix of ritual, belief, performance, and symbolism — a month where, as the story goes, spirits wander freely among the living. For many locals, it’s second nature, part of the rhythm of the city. For my friends and me, though, it was something completely new.

We followed a short procession from the middle of Petaling Street, down the street towards the open-air car park, away from the buildings and crowds of people. To my surprise, this was a very low-key event, with not many tourists around, considering it was in a popular tourist hotspot. Most of the procession and the people participating, you could tell, were all locals to the area. At the open car park, that’s where the ritual climaxed. With the KL skyline visible in the background, stacks of paper offerings, elaborate and fragile, were set alight. The fire rose quickly, lighting up the night in shades of orange and gold. A large golden glow surrounded the openness. Faces glowed in the flicker, and for a few moments, the whole crowd was transfixed by the flames. The once large mass of carefully crafted items, now burning bright and hot!

Photographing in that light was both a challenge and interesting. The darkness swallowed detail, but the fire gave back something else — contrast, mood, drama. Figures appeared in silhouette, their half-seen gestures etched against the blaze. And just as quick as it started, it ended. People dispersed, and the firemen were left to tend to the open flames and kept things safe. We all went our merry ways.

A few weeks later…

I found myself at another Hungry Ghost Festival gathering — this time much closer to home, in my local suburb in Petaling Jaya. Compared to the bustle of Petaling Street, this one felt smaller, more intimate. The rituals were familiar, yet carried out with subtle differences. Different characters perform different parts of the rituals. Something I didn't notice in the first session in Petaling Street, but now, more evident here. A tent was set up, closing off one road near the local market, long tables filled with offerings of fruit, incense sticks lined in rows, with loud entertaining music blasting throughout the event. The paper effigies were carried out to the middle of the closed road, waiting their turn to be consigned to the flames.

The atmosphere here was less about spectacle and more about community. Families sat together on plastic chairs, locals who were not part of it, all in attendance to witness the spectacle, and children darted in and out between the incense smoke. It was nice to see other local photographers here too, all taking their turns to capture the right moment.

When the burning began, the scene took on the same fiery intensity as Chinatown. The effigies went up in flames, their paper forms curling and collapsing into ash, sending sparks into the night sky. Once again, the light from the bonfire became the main actor — illuminating faces, creating stark shadows, and giving every gesture a heightened sense of presence. Then, just as quickly, once the main items went down in flames, the attendees adjourned to the tent for food and merryment.

Two places, two styles of ritual, yet both bound by the same purpose: to honour, to remember, and to appease the unseen. It struck me that whether in the heart of Chinatown or a local neighbourhood square, the festival connects people to their traditions, to their communities, and maybe, in some small way, to the mysteries beyond.

Enjoy the images below.

Cheers.

p.s: Happy Malaysia Day!

Chinatown, KL.

The Local Neighbourhood