28-06-2020, 11:54 AM
At this point I will cut it short and come to that fateful evening when my life – and my wife – were to start undergoing a change that I would have thought nothing short of impossible.
It was a Saturday evening in April (2009). Our son was spending the night at my sister’s place. He and my sister’s son are just a year apart and they’re great friends. I mention this because it constituted a big factor in what occurred that night. Had our son been in the house none of us could have gone as far as we went. Salman and Tariq were at our place, and we had just finished a cup of coffee each, except Rozi, who likes to go for tea in summers and keeps her coffee-drinking for winters only.
It must have been around 10 p.m. or so. We’d all had our supper and were feeling, as one usually does on a weekend night, quiet comfy, so to say. The four of us were sitting, as we always did, in that part of our house which serves as a guest-cum-dining room. One side of the room has a small, rectangular table with four chairs around it, and on the other side we have a sofa set with the usual glass table, two side tables, a few racks bearing some decoration pieces, a book case…, the usual stuff.
Salman was recounting a story which held our interest. The story involved him and a group of his friends (3 boys and 2 girls) in high college, who ended up having a game of strip poker (or some other game of cards), that left all but one of the boys (the winner) in their underwear. The deal, according to him, was to “go all the way” but after losing one more hand, a girl who was already down to her bra and panties, chickened out. She got up and started putting on her clothes amidst mild protest by the boys. That was the end of the game.
“In our hearts” said Salman, smiling, “all of us knew that at least the girls would never go that far.”
“Interesting story” I said, shifting a little in my chair, “if its true.”
Tariq laughed, looking at Salman, while Salman managed to look a little annoyed while still smiling with his natural good humor.
It was a Saturday evening in April (2009). Our son was spending the night at my sister’s place. He and my sister’s son are just a year apart and they’re great friends. I mention this because it constituted a big factor in what occurred that night. Had our son been in the house none of us could have gone as far as we went. Salman and Tariq were at our place, and we had just finished a cup of coffee each, except Rozi, who likes to go for tea in summers and keeps her coffee-drinking for winters only.
It must have been around 10 p.m. or so. We’d all had our supper and were feeling, as one usually does on a weekend night, quiet comfy, so to say. The four of us were sitting, as we always did, in that part of our house which serves as a guest-cum-dining room. One side of the room has a small, rectangular table with four chairs around it, and on the other side we have a sofa set with the usual glass table, two side tables, a few racks bearing some decoration pieces, a book case…, the usual stuff.
Salman was recounting a story which held our interest. The story involved him and a group of his friends (3 boys and 2 girls) in high college, who ended up having a game of strip poker (or some other game of cards), that left all but one of the boys (the winner) in their underwear. The deal, according to him, was to “go all the way” but after losing one more hand, a girl who was already down to her bra and panties, chickened out. She got up and started putting on her clothes amidst mild protest by the boys. That was the end of the game.
“In our hearts” said Salman, smiling, “all of us knew that at least the girls would never go that far.”
“Interesting story” I said, shifting a little in my chair, “if its true.”
Tariq laughed, looking at Salman, while Salman managed to look a little annoyed while still smiling with his natural good humor.
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