My Father is Straight And Sometimes Even Roger Federer Sucks.

A SMALL GIFT FROM PATER. Last week, my father went to the 50th Anniversary party of a close friend. When myself and Heche went to pick him up we noticed he was carrying a party pack full of goodies. This morning as I was getting ready for work he suddenly pass to me 3 tiny booklet (in velvet brown covers) which turned out to be the Surah Yaasin (one of the most oft-recited chapter of the Holy Quran), the Asmaa ul-Husnaa (the 99 names of God) and a Collection of short prayers. None of his best friends would say that my father is especially religious, being the sort of guy more concerned with life and the living (after all, he’s a doctor). But in his earlier retirement years, I did notice that he was reading a book about philosophy (for dummies!) and other assortment of brain-breaking books. Of late however he has given up on those tiresome tomes and prefers to watch tennis on TV or taking his grandchildren out for meals. I am glad, because to be frank I would rather he enjoy his retirement as best as he can and leave the heavy reading to us (meaning me and my elder brother, Saiful).

MY FATHER IS STRAIGHT. My father is a straight man. I am not saying anything about his sexual inclination or his participation in a comedic act - it’s just he’s plain honest. Painfully honest at times and not the sort to mince his words. As a result he used to inevitably step on people’s egos in his old days heading the Ministry and later in the banking sector. But he never actually meant to hurt anyone’s feeling, it’s just that his standard of duty and dedication has (sadly) gone out of trend and often conflicts with the rather easy-going who-cares attitude prevalent in our society nowadays. He says it as he sees it, you know.

SHORT-FUSED? My father has a short-fuse and the world (or God, if you wanna say that) is playing with him. It’s as if the more my dad blows his top over some small niggling irritation (traffic jam, misunderstanding at the cashier, misplacing his cellphone), the more fate tests him with these petty annoyances. My brother noticed that nothing ever goes wrong when he alone goes to pay the utility bills (for instance), but on any given day when he has to bring my father, then without fail some silly contretemps (“... But can you EXPLAIN to me the bill item HERE!”) would occur and my father would get mightily pissed. Hehehe.

FEDERER! Maybe ‘short-fused’ is the wrong adjective to call the good doctor. Maybe ‘passionate’ is the better description – One night, our maid was woken by screams of anguish and pain reverberating from our living room. It sounded like my dad and it was in the early hours of the morning, so rightfully she was panicked. She rushed out to the living room and cautiously peeked. It was my dad alright, but he was in no pain (unless you call it emotional pain), he was just watching Roger Federer on TV losing in a tennis match. My father was simply expressing his disappointment at Federer’s poor performance.

"YOUR MOTHER…" On the rare occasion when I am with him shopping, my father would often reminisce about my late mother - “Ah, your mum loved this vegetable”… “She really liked to eat the noodle at this shop here”…”Mamma came back from Jerusalem with boxes of cabbages and pumpkins, saying she just didn’t know what else to buy.” My dad misses my mother in so many ways, I think.

Well, that’s my dad. Never a dull moment. Does he read this blog? He is techno-shy, but recently he did indicate interest in a laptop, so later perhaps. In the meantime, why don’t we keep this little posting between the two of us, sunshine. Hehehe.

Our fathers are quite something, aren’t they? God bless them!

Pax Taufiqa