Sunday breakfast with my grandfather

It’s my grandfather’s 85th birthday today. (Almost) the entire clan made it back to our hometown to toast (and mostly to drink) to his good health and longevity.

This morning, we headed to Sri Gading for breakfast with the birthday boy. We were told that he would be at the breakfast stall, so we waited for him patiently. Then from the corner of my eye, we saw a lone man on his bicycle heading towards us.

Of course it was my grandfather, possibly the only 85 years old man still whizzing around Sri Gading in his trusty classic (albeit rusty) Raleigh. Not sure if it’s a good thing safety-wise but it makes him immensely happy.

For our second breakfast (we’re hobbits), we walked to a nearby roti canai stall. In an act of familiarity, grandfather immediately sat next to the chef’s stove, possibly the chef’s table.

The roti canai seller is Haji Mohammad, son of Esa. To eat his crispy, delicious roti canai, you need plenty of time, patience and preferably good company. Haji Mohammad is the sole person preparing and cooking the roti canai; a process of flattening the dough, letting it rest, whipping them to a spectacular shape, placing them on the grill and so on. He does all this while memorising new and old orders, tells his staff what to do, and calculates bills via verbal human computation.

He’s also my grandfather’s friend. He would make anything my grandfather wanted and is reluctant to charge him. According to legend (actually just my mom and aunt), one day Haji Mohammad’s wife got very sick. Grandfather advised him on Chinese herbs to buy and prepare for her recovery. After taking the herbs, she got better and soon regained full good health. Thus Haji Mohammad was very grateful to my grandfather.

My grandfather’s version was that, it was Haji Mohammad’s grandfather who was sick. So I don’t know which version is true. But someone got well and that is always a good thing.