People began to gather from early in the afternoon on April 14, 1986.

It was to be a show like no other, with the singer-songwriter paying tribute to the congested Chow Kit Road area, a neighbourhood of shops, mechanics, petty traders and working-class residents living cheek by jowl with sleazy nightclubs and small hotels in the heart of the city, close to Kampung Baru.

It was this area for whom he had written a song, and it was here that he was to pay tribute.

Hours before the 8pm start, the streets were abuzz as police cordoned off the area for the crew to set up the stage and equipment in the middle of the road.

Jenny Chin, Sudirman’s musical director, says “I didn’t think the concert was going to be that big of a deal, but looking back, we were creating history.”

“Our soundcheck was like a live show,” she tells FMT.

She remembers all the bureaucracy and police permits that were required to put on the show. “Sudirman was very persistent, continually saying he was determined to do this concert. So we went all out to make it happen,” she says.

By 8pm, over 100,000 fans were crowding the streets. Many climbed trees and signboards, and clambered onto surrounding rooftops.

Finally, at 9pm, the diminutive star was lowered to the stage via a fire brigade Skylift, and got the concert going, with his tribute song “Chow Kit Road”.

The crowd cheered so loudly that the band could hardly hear themselves playing on stage.

Among those who were there – but stuck at the back – was Navaretnam Vethiya, then 23.

“It was like the whole of Malaysia was there as one family. People were crowded together, everyone wanted to see him,” he tells FMT. “There were a lot of youngsters, and some older folks. It was fantastic. When the crowd sang and clapped, it was thunderous.”

Sudirman went on to perform hit songs like “Apa Khabar Orang Kampung”, and “Kenali Malaysia Cintai Malaysia”, to the rapturous crowd, ending the night with the ballad “Pertemuan Abadi”, for which he draped himself in the national flag, which was yet to be known as Jalur Gemilang.

Navaretnam, an employee at a nearby shopping centre, had taken a half day off to see the star but had arrived late and found it impossible to get closer to the stage through the excited sea of spectators.

He said Sudirman had a respect for all the different types of Malaysians. He symbolised unity. He would sing one Malay song coupled with a Chinese or Indian song, singing in at least two languages. Entertainment was very different then compared to now,” says Navaretnam.

Jenny Chin agrees, describing Sudirman as a true Malaysian artiste for all Malaysians.

“He was one of a kind, a very rare Malaysian artiste who catered to everyone. In his concerts, you had all kinds of people sitting together and singing along, whether it was an English, Chinese, Malay or Indian song.”

She recalls his humbleness in person, yet one who could project a fun, witty, and humorous personality on stage.

“He was also deep. You could speak with him for hours and never be bored. Anything you discussed, there was always something he could go with on a deeper, more personal level, or with witty remarks,” she says.

“Sometimes, when we weren’t working, he would call me and we would chat for hours on the phone. I miss that. He was a true artiste, who was passionate all the way.”

Jenny said she has since worked with many other big names, but has yet to see the same level of creativity in them.

Sudirman fell ill in late 1991 and died on Feb 22, 1992, at the young age of 37. There were many rumours around his death but the official cause of death was eventually ruled to be pneumonia.

His songs live on, imbued with his love of his fellow citizens.

Though small in size, he was a giant in stature, with a heart big enough for all his countrymen.