The Most Unsocial Daddy in the World.

By the time the guests had brushed the cookie crumbs off their dresses and stood up on uncertain feet that were still tingling from pins and needles, father was already at the end of the long verandah, holding open the gate with a tight, false smile. What followed was a tightrope of conversation that steadied with mother, only to be toppled over by dad.

"We loved having you guys over today. Its been such a long time!"

"I hate to say this, but you should leave now. The roads are going to be crowded in half an hour."

"Come back soon!"

"Go safely."

He was the emperor of grumpiness and unsocial behavior. He hated having anyone over at home, except his own siblings and old school friends, with whom he could chat in his broad, Bangladeshi dialect about the "good old times." Brother and I were ashamed of him and revolted as soon as we realized we had the right. "We hate you, Daddy," we panted (because we were still a little scared of him), "why don't you like anyone visiting us?"

"Because I have you two!" he said, very surprised, "Why would I need anyone else?"

"Daddy, you're so boring! We don't want to be with you!"

“Well then, I have your mother." His eyes twinkled.

"Mother! She's nearly as boring as you!" we exclaimed, "What will you do with her?"

"We will read the poems of Tagore together," he said, and his eyes still twinkled.

And that's what they would do, evening after evening. Take out a volume of Tagore and read to each other. They were the most boring couple in the world.