It was hot sunny afternoon. I was sitting on our lawn, along with dad. The ice-box lay open, within arm’s reach. A blanket of ice cubes comfortably covered Eight pints of beer, preserving their cold sanctity. They appeared all the more appealing in the mid-day heat. Dad’s eyes were covered with dark sunglasses, but I knew that even he was eyeing the pints. We had no choice. It was mom’s rule that the beer was not be touched until everyone had arrived.

It was our fortnightly family barbecue lunch. We were waiting for my uncle’s family to arrive. Mom was huddled over the grill, marinating the meat with her special mix of spices. Meanwhile, I and dad, were sizzling in the sun, not unlike the meat on the grill. The only redeeming factor was the amazing aroma emanating from the grill. It made me drool more profusely than the sun…