Father's Day: A sad truth for some

 

(NST) - “My children rarely call me, of course from time to time I would be the one calling them and never the other way round.” 

Walking through the crowded street of Jalan Tunku Abdul Rahman in Kuala Lumpur, one can hear sombre Malay songs being played on a violin by blind 55-year-old Nazrin Adnan.

Most passers-by choose to walk pass him, while some would stop to put money in the open violin case and others sit to watch as Nazrin pours his heart out playing his violin.

Perak born Nazrin started playing the keyboard on the streets of both Kuala Lumpur and Pulau Pinang until 1986 before switching to the violin in 2010 when he lost his keyboard.

“I do this not only because of interest, but also because there is nothing else I can do. It is something that I have to keep on doing to make ends meet.”

“Every weekday I would start off busking near Masjid Jamek’s light rail transit (LRT). Then at noon, I would come here (Sogo) till late in the evening. And on weekends, I will go to the pasar malam at the Shah Alam Stadium.”

This Sunday is another day for Nazrin with no special meaning to him.

As others spend Father’s Day with their families, giving out presents to their fathers or taking them out for dinner as appreciation, Nazrin would be in Shah Alam playing his violin among the crowded Sunday market.

His three children no longer wants him. No longer want him in their lives. Not even on Father's Day, he said with tears in his eyes.

“At the beginning of this year, my children decided that they do not need me anymore. They are all young adults, just starting their own lives, they no longer want me in their lives. What can I do about it?”

“Besides, I don’t think that they even know it is Father’s Day this Sunday, we never celebrated it. I would love to, but it looks like it is not the case.”

“Never have there been any kind of celebration, any outings or even any presents for me.” Nazrin added as his voice trembled.

With all the technology available nowadays, talking to loved ones is only just a phone call away. 

“My children rarely call me, of course from time to time I would be the one calling them and never the other way round.”

Nazrin's youngest is 16-years-old while the eldest is 24, all just starting with their lives, too busy to even call him perhaps, much to his disappointment.

When asked what was the reason for his children to treat him this way, Nazrin replied that it could be because they could not accept it when he scolded or reprimanded them, even though in his defence it was for their own good.

“Like any other father, I care about my children. After all, which father wouldn’t want the best for his kids? I only want the best for my children.”

“I have forgiven my children for all their wrong doings, for everything they have ever done and I do not expect them to come apologise, but please just don’t forget me.” he said sadly.