Ashwin Manhasa sat on is pale-skinned bed, the computer propped neatly on his lap, reading and re-read the many messages he had been receiving from his new found friend, Adil Tripati.
He shifted his feet beneath the uncomfortable weight of the bulky lap-top, and relaxed against his bed post. He blocked out the sound of his parent's usual quarrelling, as he mused at the slight humour and innocence behind the boys messages.
Smiling brightly to himself, he tip-toed past his quarrelling parent's to reach for the refrigerator. Picking out a sweet looking pair of truffles, he tip-toed back to the front hall, stopping just for a second to listen to his parent's words.
This brow furrowed, as he eyed the burly man he had recently grown accustom to calling "father". His lips curled as he sucked on the bitter truffle. He shook his head in disapproval; he couldn't understand how the man called them "chocolate." They tasted like bitter-gourd to him. He cocked his head to the side for a moment, his eyes focused on a picture that existed somewhere in the back of his mind.
He could see his father suckling on the bitter gourd, licking his lips, as he bit into it. "Bitter chocolate for a bitter man..." he thought as he chuckled to himself. It was difficult to picture the sour, brawny man with a constant air of arrogance and a stern brow, ever smiling, let alone humming to the tune of a sweet, creamy chocolate....or in this case, a sour bitter gourd. Quickly biting down on his cheek to stifle the laughter, he tip-toed back into his bed-room, and lay down quietly, shutting his eyes to catch a mid-day nap, as he dreamt strange dreams of bitter gourds and truffles.