© Oh, no! Here he is again. Three times this week, Pa had appeared at my school. It is the same old story - that my mother is very sick and I have to go back to take care of her!
If only I could tell my school teacher, "Teacher, don't trust him!" I had the urge to scream. If only I could tell her the real story.
"No, my mother is heartily healthy!" My mouth yearned to verbalise. "She is alive and kicking. She would give me a nice whacking if only she knew what I am doing daily."
I try not to look at Pa's direction. I was hoping that he would change his mind and go away. But alas, no! I can see from the angle of my eye that he is almost at the classroom door.
"Excuse me, teacher", he said apologetically. I have to give it to him. Despite his relatively low educational achievements, he had the gift of the gab and flair for languages. Perhaps his privileged upbringing gave him the confidence to boss everybody around. Early exposure to the upper crust of society and all the lavish parties in his childhood are testimonies of his conquest of the language.
What is the point now? All those wealthy and bourgeois life is just but a distant memory. Pa, spared the rod and given leeway by the doting servants who replaced the role that they were hired for but donned patriarchal role in the household, found the easiest way of parenting - to give in at the slight hint of the start of a wail.
"Shortcut parenting," they say, "cuts short intelligence."
Wealth within the family, which, by Confucius' calculations would stay within the family for 3 generations before it goes missing into the abyss of time. Unfortunately, shortcuts by parents cut short the generational wealth within the family to dissipate within a single generation! Now the heir of one of Penang's richest family, the owner of the tallest high rise building in town has to be contented chauffeuring others around.
A cat which has been to taste the richness of milk will do anything to get a go at it, even by forbidden means. Similarly, Pa still lives the old ways. Pockets may be empty, but the appearance has to be spick and span. The family may be wailing for food or be seen in parched outfit, it is all the same for him.
His brown leather shoes must be spanking shiny. The creases of his starched attire must stay fresh. Hair must be groomed and daily shaving at the barber essential. He lives to eat. His palate craves for the cuisines he enjoyed in his childhood. Economics and saving for a rainy day does not fall into the equation. His philosophy, albeit weird, seems to have worked well for him all these while - enjoy today what you may not live to enjoy tomorrow.
What about responsibilities in life, you may ask? Is a father not duty bound to provide for his offsprings, akin to a mother running into a burning building to save her child? Or a mother jumping into the river to save her drowning when she, herself, was like a cat in water, a non-swimmer? No, his philosophy of life was warped, you may say.
"The fauna and flora grows, why can't you? Somebody plants the seed and there will be someone to come along to water it!" he would say. "You, don't worry."©
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