Kishore Singh: He's my son now?

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While my son was in Delhi on vacation for a while from college in Pune, he didn't ask for much by way of cash. "Now that I am living on my own," he said humbly, "I know how difficult it is to manage." "That's my son," said my wife proudly, "see how he's learnt the value of money." I refrained from telling her that he hadn't done so well on the managing front in Pune, since I had to put in extra amounts in his bank account every month on some pretext or the other.

He did, however, wonder if I could extend myself a bit to let him splurge on some sort of device on which he could play his favourite music, seeing how he lived alone. I mentioned this to my mother when he was visiting his grandparents in Bikaner, and he came back with a fat wad of notes to finance his purchase.

A few days before he was to return, he asked if I would mind parting with some money for wider tyres for his motorcycle, seeing how Pune's roads are potholed.

It wasn't an excuse that cut ice, so I refused him the indulgence "" he was the one who had insisted on selling the old car to finance his bike, I pointed out "" but also because my wife said she'd spotted a receipt that seemed to suggest that makeovers had already been executed on the bike at considerable expense.

Two days before he was to leave, we went to the market to buy him his music system. "Do you think I could buy something that will have a little more use?" he asked. From experience I knew that questions like these need you to pay much, much more, but because he was leaving and I was feeling sentimental, I said yes, and we ended up buying a video iPod instead. And a lot more besides "" things he didn't really require, like a new jacket (he was leaving so many others behind).

Back in Pune, he settled down to his "meagre" existence at his shared apartment once more, with a maid to clean, another to wash clothes, and a tiffin service. He called a few times. The first was to ask whether I thought it might be a good idea if he could get a gas connection, seeing how it would be convenient should he ever feel hungry. "Of course," I assured him, saying I would transmit the funds to his account. Next, he called to say it might be a good idea to invest in a fridge so that food wouldn't spoil. Naturally, I agreed.

He wanted to change the window drapes too (the one's he had were too drab), and wanted some more money for speakers to attach to his iPod so his friends could listen to the music as well.

"Friends?" I asked. "Yes," he said, "seeing how there's food and thanks to an extra sleeping bag, there's always someone over." "That must mean you're cooking a lot?" I asked him. "No," he said, "mostly I just order pizzas."

This morning, he called to say if I didn't want to spend on speakers, it was all right, that they might, in fact, be a waste, as he intended me to buy him a laptop so that he could work as well as listen to music simultaneously. "But you'll get it all wet in Pune's rains," I cautioned him. "I've been thinking dad," said my son, "Pune's weather is so bad, it might be better if I had a car for the months it's raining here."

"I think," I said to my wife, "perhaps our son wants some more money." "Your son," snapped my wife, "has no idea how to manage our finances!"