Pranav lay on his bed, head on a pillow and a cigarette burning in his right hand. Children’s voices drifted through the open window. The curtains were drawn, and the room was semi-dark. Pranav’s motionless eyes were fixed on the ceiling. He was feeling something – what it was, he wasn’t sure. There was no simple way to describe it. Losing something you felt was yours and then getting it back. But, more importantly, he simply couldn’t fathom why he was forced to give up something which was truly his?You will make a very good director, son. Pranav could hear his father’s empty promise hanging in the silence around him.He felt a hot sting between his index and middle finger.He jerked himself up, threw the cigarette on the floor and watched it burn.The feeling of indignation fanned across his chest like a forest fire. He had done everything he possibly could to gratify his idealistic father. He worked with the labourers at the kiln, repaired cracks, carried buckets of h