The Hidden Trail of Bukit Nanas

Rain drummed against the tin roof of Sekolah Kebangsaan Seri Tropika like a thousand impatient fingers. Inside Room 8B, Mr. Raju tapped his clipboard with finality. “Your biodiversity projects are due in two weeks. Find something unique—something real. Not just pictures from the internet.”

Amir Hassan slouched in his seat, arms crossed. He’d already mentally drafted his report on pitcher plants—easy, clean, and guaranteed an A. Across the aisle, Liyana Ismail scribbled furiously in her notebook, her brow furrowed in concentration. She’d overheard him bragging about “acing it without breaking a sweat,” and that smug grin had stuck in her craw all week.

“Amir,” Mr. Raju announced, “you’ll be working with Liyana.”

A collective gasp rippled through the class. Amir groaned. Liyana’s pencil snapped in her hand.

They hadn’t spoken since the Science Olympiad last term—when Amir had “accidentally” knocked over Liyana’s volcano model seconds before judging. She’d called him a show-off. He’d called her a perfectionist know-it-all. The feud had festered ever since.

Now, stuck together, they met after school under the frangipani tree, arms crossed in mirrored defiance.

“I’ll do the research,” Liyana said coolly. “You can… carry the supplies.”

“I was going to say the same thing,” Amir shot back. “But fine. Just don’t slow me down.”

Their project took a turn when Liyana’s grandmother, a traditional healer from Penang, mentioned a rare herb called Akar Sempit—“Narrow Root”—once used to treat fever and inflammation. “It only grows in untouched patches of old-growth forest,” she’d said, eyes distant. “Like the heart of Bukit Nanas.”

Bukit Nanas. The oldest forest reserve in Malaysia, nestled right in the middle of Kuala Lumpur—a green lung surrounded by skyscrapers. Most students stuck to the paved paths and the canopy walkway. But Akar Sempit wouldn’t be found there.

“You’re joking,” Amir said when Liyana showed him her notes. “That place is crawling with leeches. And it’s monsoon season.”

“Then we wear boots and long socks,” Liyana replied, already packing a small rucksack with antiseptic wipes, a trowel, and a field guide. “Unless you’re scared.”

Amir’s pride flared. “I’m in.”

The next Saturday dawned gray and humid. Rain had fallen all night, leaving the air thick with the scent of wet earth and frangipani blossoms. They met at the entrance of KL Forest Eco Park, just off Jalan Raja Chulan. Towering office buildings loomed beyond the iron gates, their glass surfaces reflecting the brooding sky.

Inside, the city noise faded, replaced by the chatter of long-tailed macaques and the distant call of a hill myna. The paved trail gave way to red laterite soil, slick with moisture.

“This way,” Liyana said, consulting her grandmother’s hand-drawn map—a faded square of paper marked with symbols only she seemed to understand.

Amir rolled his eyes but followed. Within minutes, the trail narrowed. Roots snaked across the path like sleeping serpents. Ferns brushed their arms, leaving trails of dew.

“Watch your step,” Liyana warned as they crossed a small stream on mossy stones. Amir slipped, landing hard on one knee in the mud.

“Need a hand?” she asked, offering hers.

He hesitated, then took it. Her grip was firm, surprising him.

They pressed deeper. The canopy closed overhead, dimming the light. The air grew cooler, heavier.

Then came the leeches.

“Ugh!” Liyana yelped, brushing one off her ankle. Amir froze, eyes wide. “Don’t panic,” she said, though her voice trembled. “Salt. We brought salt, right?”

Amir fumbled in his pack, pulling out a tiny ziplock. They sprinkled it on their socks, hearts pounding.

As they climbed a steep incline slick with mud, Liyana lost her footing. She slid backward—right toward a tangle of thorny rattan. Amir lunged, grabbing her wrist just in time.

For a breathless moment, they hung there—mud-streaked, panting, staring at each other.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Yeah, well… don’t mention it,” he mumbled, helping her up.

Something shifted between them. The silence wasn’t hostile anymore. It was… thoughtful.

They found the herb near a hidden spring, its leaves shaped like tiny hands, veined with silver. It grew in a patch of filtered sunlight, nestled among orchid roots.

“This is it,” Liyana breathed, kneeling carefully. “Akar Sempit.”

Amir watched her dig gently, preserving the roots. “Your grandma’s gonna be proud.”

She smiled—a real one this time. “Maybe we both will be.”

On the way back, they talked. Really talked. Amir confessed he’d sabotaged her volcano because he was jealous—she’d won every science fair since Primary 3. Liyana admitted she’d mocked his ideas because she thought he didn’t take anything seriously.

“But you do,” she said, glancing at him. “You just hide it behind jokes.”

“And you’re not just a know-it-all,” he replied. “You actually care. A lot.”

By the time they emerged from the forest, the rain had stopped. Sunlight broke through the clouds, gilding the Petronas Towers in the distance.

Their project won first place. But more importantly, they’d found something rarer than any herb: trust.

Weeks later, they returned to Bukit Nanas—not for a grade, but to plant native seedlings along the trail. As they worked side by side, a monitor lizard slipped into the underbrush, and the forest hummed its ancient song around them.

Amir handed Liyana a sapling. “Think we’ll find another hidden trail?”

She grinned. “Only if you promise not to drop my volcano next time.”

He laughed. “Deal.”

And in that moment, beneath the watchful eyes of the rainforest giants, two rivals became something far more valuable: friends.