TEMPTATION: PROLOGUE
Asad Ahmed Khan sat on the grass in front of the house facing the wall and idly tossed a cricket ball against the wall, and caught in after one bounce, though there was nothing idle about the rage simmering inside him.
A kite was lazily circling above the only tree in the garden while their cocker spaniels - Pagla and Pagli " took shelter beneath its shade in a vain attempt to combat the heat. It was sweltering " he could feel the sweat sliding down his back " but the heat matched his mood, so rather than go inside and cool off, he remained on the porch.
And he watched. Glared. Not that it made any difference.
Every time the door swung open, he could hear his mother, her voice choked with desperation and with as much dignity as she had left, plead with his father as he made trek after determined trek to his car, his arms loaded down with his belongings. Asad's 3 yr old little sister, Najma, hadn't quite yet realized what was happening and was pestering both parents with questions. Innocent ones like, "Can I have strawberry milk?", "Daddy, can I come with you for a ride" and "Where is Daddy going?"
His lips curled into a bitter smile.
On second thoughts, the last question wasn't so innocent after all. Gallingly, everyone but Najma knew where their father was going. That's why the neighbors had manufactured reasons to be outside, so that they could watch the drama unfold before them firsthand. As if his family's humiliation and pain was for their entertainment.
Across the street, Mrs. Singh pretended to water her flowers while shooting covert looks across the way. Next door, Mr. Bhattacharya lingered by his gate, appearing to oil the gate hinge as he, too, shot furtive looks toward their house.
In and out his father went, over and over again, and with each slam of the screen door, Asad's anger intensified into a white-hot ball of fury, one that made his insides throb, his hands shake and, to his resentful shame, a lump swell in his throat.
After a cursory glance inside the car and trunk, his father closed the lid. He stood there for a moment, his gaze lingering at a spot on the back tire, then he sighed and made his way back to the garden and stopped before Asad.
"I know you don't understand this now, but it's for the best.
Asad looked up and merely smirked at him. "Oh I think I understand better than you think I do. Your girlfriend is pregnant. You started a new family by chucking the old one". He grimaced, continued to toss his ball. "Nothing too difficult to understand about that".
His father's hands fisted at his sides. "It's not that simple. These are adult matters, things you couldn't possibly understand".
The hell he couldn't " Asad knew selfishness when he saw it - but he wouldn't argue. It was pointless and somehow Asad knew his silence was more painful for his father than when he spoke.
"I'll be in touch", his dad said. "I promise. We'll do something for your birthday next week. Go to maidan and work on your bowling and fielding".
A spark of hope flared in Asad, but he quickly snuffed it out. They were only words. Maybe even good intentions, but Asad knew better that to believe them, promise or not. He didn't expect his father to show up for his 10th birthday any more than he imagined he'd be around for his twentieth. He might have just now worked his way around to leaving them, but he'd already checked out more than a year when he'd met her, Shirin. How odd that he, Asad, could hate someone he'd never met, but he did.
His father took another deep breath, one that seemed to swell enough to sever any ties, heralding the end. "You are the man of the house now, Asad. Look out for your mother and sister". He turned abruptly and made his way to the car at the gate and drove away.
He never looked back.
He didn't send so much as a card for Asad's 11th birthday or any birthday thereafter.
So much for promises.
Bigg Boss 19
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