Funnily lived the father

All his life, dad seldom had enough money to make ends meet. Yet he never lost his sense of humour, which kept him in high spirits in times of adversity. “I’m a gentleman of rank,” he was fond of quipping to us kids, “with no money in the bank!”

Once, mum told him that she was finding it hard to run the household on a shoestring budget. “As far as I can see, it’s not difficult to meet expenses,” he remarked, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “since they’re everywhere!” Irked by his flippancy, mum stalked off in a huff.

One Christmas, when carollers visited us well past midnight, shattering the quiet with their sonorous singing and drumming, dad observed wryly, “What’s the point in singing Silent Night if you’re going to wake up the entire neighbourhood?”

During lunch at the office one day, a colleague asked dad what he was having as an accompaniment to his rice. “Ocean biscuits!” came the grandiose but cryptic reply. When the man looked baffled, dad held up a piece of the salted and dried fish that he was munching!

Another time, dad forgetfully left a 10-rupee note in his pant pocket and never saw it again. The incident prompted him to remark, “My dhobi, god bless him, certainly does a thorough job — he even cleans out my pockets before washing my clothes!”

Dad often came up with hilarious suggestions that amused us to no end. Once, when a roadroller rumbled down the road, he cried, “Hey, children, get hold of those empty toothpaste tubes if you want to have the remnants squeezed out to the last drop!”

When dad saw a plump youngster with a well-upholstered posterior waddle past our home, clad in bell-bottoms, he couldn’t resist hollering, “Tony, why wear bell-bottoms when you already have them?”

Repartees came easily to dad. On one occasion, when he took us (kids) out shopping, he struck up a conversation with a stranger. “Who’s that man?” I asked out of curiosity when he rejoined us.“I don’t know his name,” dad grinned amiably, “but I know for a fact he’s his father’s son!”

While leafing through a sports magazine, dad came across a photo of a male ‘streaker’ tearing across the hallowed grounds at Lord’s while a test match was in progress. “What’s this?” he exclaimed in mock surprise with a quizzical look. “Is he running away from his clothes, or after them?”

Another time, one of my brothers brought home an unflattering report card. Dad studied it critically before commenting tongue-in-cheek — “Your school should give marks for courage too — you would’ve gotten an ‘A’ for bringing home this report card!” We could always bank on dad’s homespun wit and humour for a good chuckle.