I'm in Riyadh, my parents are in Mehdipatnam, and I call them every Friday after Jummah.
It's routine. Last month my father's younger brother was visiting from Nizamabad and took the phone.
He said, your father used to sing, did you know? I said, my father? He said
yes, in college, 1985. He sang Rafi songs at the annual day. He had a whole
fan group. People shouted for encores. I didn't believe it. My father is a quiet, serious man.
He works in the bank, he reads the paper. In 34 years I have
never heard him hum. Not once. Not even in the bathroom. So I asked him
directly. He went quiet and then said, who told you that? My uncle, I said.
He said, that was a long time ago. And then he changed the topic to the weather.
But my mother, in the background, was laughing. She said, ask him about the song with the guitar.
I asked. He said no. I asked again. He said no, and then, after a pause,
tell your mother to stop. My mother told me later that she heard him sing once.
At their engagement, in 1989. She said she fell for him a bit because of it.
She'd never told me that either. I feel like I'd been living with a stranger. He
had a whole life before I was born. I've been thinking about what else I don't
know about him. What did he want to do? Did he want to be a singer?
A teacher? Was banking just what had to be done? I can't ask him any of
this directly. He's not that sort of father. He'll just change the subject. So I've decided
to be sneaky. Next Friday I'm going to put on a Rafi song during the call.
Let's see if he sings along without realising. If he does, I'll record it, with
my mother's help. Has anyone discovered something like this about their parents? Something they never mentioned?
I'm feeling a little hurt, and a lot curious. Mostly curious, to be honest.