With them was the child's grandmother, seated beside the man, watching her grandson running around in the waiting lounge. She turned to the father, "macam mana engkau ni mengajar anak? Biar saja dia buat bising."
The dad kept his mouth shut. Embarrassed by the one-sentence lecture from his mother.
She then turned to the child,
"Dik, mari sini sekejap."
"You see that scary pak guard?"
"Yea.. why is he wearing tudung?"
"That is not a tudung dik. It's a turban."
"See he have a big tummy?"
"That's because he just ate a naughty kid. Now he's hungry... See he's opening his mouth, he wants to eat again!"
The child went quiet, withdrawn, with the face looking down like a tame cat while sitting on the chair obediently. Grandma now turns back to the father and gave him the victorious grin as a sign, a lesson, of the way a father should teach his children.
Just as the matter with the register was dealt with, the man now holds his mother's arm, ready to leave the bank. He ushered his boy, but the child was still sitting on the chair with his little eyes staring into the face of the dark-skinned security guard.
"kenapa?" his dad asked.
"Which kid he's going to eat next."