ANYTHING, it seems, can go between two buns.
That's what I'm beginning to think as I study the colourful printed posters fluttering around the menu board of a burger stall in Puchong. There's a matcha burger, a mac and cheese burger, a cili padi burger and a crispy chicken burger, including combinations I'd never have thought to try.
The stall sits beneath a leafy tree on the pavement, with shoplots, warehouses and busy roads all around. It's easy for passing motorists to spot and pull over. For now, a tarp covers it, while the smell of food wafts from a restaurant across the road.
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I check the address Waze has brought me to. Burger Ji Legend, Puchong Headquarters, it says.
A WhatsApp message pings. "You see the stall?" Ganesh Moorthy writes.
I tell him I do. It's the only stall here, an inviting patch of shade amid the bustle. After all, a humble burger is just the thing for a quick, satisfying meal.
Except Ganesh's burgers are not so humble. Judging by the posters, he has thought of everything. Or so I think, until we meet and I suspect there's always another idea waiting to be tried.
Wearing a baseball cap turned backwards, the earnest 34-year-old shares that the stall will open at 5pm. He introduces his wife, Anneseletta Peter, who's a year younger, before we settle at the mamak restaurant across the road.
In 2019, Ganesh made headlines, including in the New Straits Times, as a delivery rider whose politeness, honesty and work ethic touched Malaysians' hearts. I remember reading about him then. Seven years later, I want to know what happened after the headlines faded, and how he found his way into burgers.
INSPIRATION AND IDEAS
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"I want to be different," he declares, eyes sparkling. He reels off his creations, including a pappadom burger, featuring the thin, crisp Indian wafer usually served with rice and curry.
Then he mentions a pickle burger.
"Pickle?" I repeat.
He grins. "You know… oorukka… the Indian pickles."
He means the punchy, spicy preserves made from fruits or vegetables, such as mango or lime. Before I can imagine that flavour between two buns, he moves to another creation. "I did the daun pisang burger," he says, referring to his banana leaf burger.
"That time daun pisang burger kaw kaw viral (went hugely viral). Then we came up with the ice-cream burger."
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He experiments in his kitchen at home, with his wife as his first taste-tester. His regular customers then help him decide which ideas are worth pursuing. "We try it with our regular customers and they give us feedback," he shares, smiling.
He glances at his watch and pats his phone. Soon, his workers will arrive to prepare for the evening. Even as we chat, he seems conscious of every passing minute. I begin to wonder where that urgency comes from.
HUMBLE BEGINNINGS
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As our conversation turns to his early years, Ganesh grows quieter. The Puchong native who was so eager to describe his burgers now seems less certain where to begin.
"When I was 6 months old, my mother passed away," he confides.
After his taxi driver father remarried, his grandparents took care of him. Eventually, an uncle took over. He shrugs as he recounts these changes, although he was only a child, dependent on others for a home and a place to belong.
Money was scarce. Even milk was something he grew up going without. "I lived on coffee and tea," he says matter-of-factly.
That simple statement stays with me. While other children might have taken a glass of milk for granted, Ganesh learnt early to make do.
"I also didn't really study," he readily admits. He left school before reaching Form Two and picked up whatever work he could find.
"I would follow the lorry drivers and help them, angkat barang (carry goods)… mostly carry canned drinks to fast food restaurants," he recalls.
At an age when his days should have revolved around lessons and homework, he was hauling cartons of drinks. Other jobs followed, from working as a security guard to selling shoes as a sales promoter.
At 17, he found work at a fast-food restaurant, where his lack of qualifications left him with some of the hardest, least-paid tasks.
"It was hard," he confesses, adding: "I didn't have any certificates, so I worked menial jobs there, from wiping tables to cleaning the toilets. I mean, it was around RM2.80 an hour, but still it was honest work."
Alongside the work, he remembers the tears, shed in the very place he was tasked with cleaning.
"I remember crying in the toilet on more than one occasion," he reveals quietly.
Still, he stayed for many years, learning the job from the ground up until he was managing the outlet. The teenager who'd cried in the toilets was now trusted to run the place.
"I didn't know how to speak Malay. I didn't speak proper English. The restaurant taught me everything," he says.
With those skills came the confidence to consider what else he might try.
STEPPING OUT
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After years of struggling, a steady salary meant a great deal. But Ganesh wanted to build a better life beyond the outlet. Leaving was difficult, and his family couldn't understand it.
"They were upset because I was giving up a steady income for a pipe dream of doing something else. They got angry and threw me out of the house," he shares.
Even so, he understands their worries.
Says Ganesh: "I think I can understand their frustration. My regular income helped support the household. Now they didn't know whether I would be able to keep contributing."
He began making deliveries for shopping platforms and tried multi-level marketing, but that venture failed. It became one of the lowest periods of his life.
"I just wanted to do more. Try other things," he says simply.
Wanting to go further had left him starting over, without his family's support. Yet he continued looking for work.
"I needed to prove that I could make it. My family is poor. Most of them are rubber tappers earning a meagre income. I wanted to be the first to break that cycle," he confides.
FINDING FAMILY
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His efforts caught businessman Aiman Manan's attention during a delivery pick-up.
In reports at the time, Aiman recalled being impressed by his courtesy, punctuality and initiative. Ganesh had started GRS Delivery Service to supplement his income and asked Aiman to try it. He did, and his customers were soon praising Ganesh too.
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Aiman shared their encounter on Facebook to promote the business. Thousands of Malaysians liked, shared and commented, recognising something to be proud of in this young man working hard to get ahead.
"That story which went viral completely changed my life," Ganesh exclaims, a smile softening his serious face.
As he talks about Aiman, it's clear that their friendship means far more than the attention Ganesh received. What began with a few deliveries grew into a lasting bond, and Ganesh eventually joined Aiman's healthcare and supplements company, Natura, where he managed inventory and orders while continuing his delivery work. Their partnership grew further when they established Goosy Delivery, a business they continue to run together to this day.
Among those who came across his story was Anneseletta, neither knowing it would be the beginning of their own.
"I kept seeing the post about Ganesh on my social media," she recalls, adding: "Eventually, I wanted to engage him to deliver the products I was selling."
Their friendship deepened into love, and they made plans to marry in 2020.
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Then, a month before their wedding, Ganesh lost both motorcycles he used to earn a living in a fire at the Gombak Setia People's Housing Project. He was suddenly without the means to carry out his deliveries.
Once again, Aiman stepped in, rallying his customers, most of them Malay, to pool money for a replacement motorcycle. They continued giving Ganesh delivery jobs, helping him earn again as his wedding approached.
The young Indian rider had earned their trust. When he needed help, they came together to give him a chance to recover.
"Aiman expected nothing in return," he says, voice full of emotion. "All he advised me to do was to help others the same way when I get the chance."
Benny James, the boss of one of Aiman's friends, also gave Ganesh a car to help him get further in life and build his delivery business.
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There's something wonderfully Malaysian about this coming together, the spirit of muhibbah expressed through practical kindness. People who'd met Ganesh through deliveries helped him rebuild his livelihood and look forward to his wedding.
For someone once asked to leave his family home, that sense of belonging meant a great deal.
"My customers are my family. Aiman is my family," declares Ganesh.
BIGGER DREAMS
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Ganesh had tried the burger business before, setting up a stall with a friend. His long hours on deliveries left his partner struggling to manage alone, and they closed. There was another setback when someone they rented the stall to disappeared with it.
After getting married, he wanted to give the idea another chance. This time, Anneseletta was beside him. "It wasn't easy," he recalls.
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A canopy was beyond their means. On wet evenings, they ran for shelter and waited for the rain to stop before returning to the stall. Their plans depended as much on the skies as on customers.
Ganesh recalls using a rechargeable lamp that cast a bluish glow over the stall. They laugh together at the memory, although those early days gave them plenty to worry about.
He continued deliveries while they got the business going. Then, after their daughter was born, he was involved in a bad accident. The risks of spending so many hours on the road became harder to put aside, and he decided to focus more on burgers.
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That renewed effort became Burger Ji. Fellow delivery riders called him "Ji", a name he carried into his new working life.
Today, the couple manages seven outlets in the Klang Valley and two in Johor — and Ganesh is considering expanding to Singapore. The ambition that once worried his family has given him a business to build with his wife.
He still wants to prove that he can go further, holding on to the belief that hard work and the willingness to keep trying will open more doors.
By now, the stall is open, and he has something more immediate on his mind. "Would you like to try our burgers? You must!" he insists.
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The chicken tenders are crisp, the burgers juicy and generously filled. Watching him fuss over the food, I recognise the same earnestness that runs through his story, from the young rider determined to do a good job to the man still finding ways to do better.
Traffic keeps moving and the colourful posters flutter. Motorists pull over, and his workers settle into the evening's rhythm, taking orders, tending the grill and assembling the burgers I studied earlier.
Anything, it seems, can go between two buns.
Ganesh has filled his menu with possibilities. Now, he hopes to give his wife and three children a future just as full of choices, far beyond those he had growing up.
elena@nst.com.my
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