tomorrows remain

tomorrows remain tomorrows remain

Status: Finished

Genre: Gay and Lesbian

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Gay and Lesbian

Summary

Beautiful love between two lady teacher living together in a remote and rural area in India

Summary

Beautiful love between two lady teacher living together in a remote and rural area in India

Content

Submitted: April 30, 2016

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: April 30, 2016

A A A

A A A


Tomorrows remain

Aluscious

The school manager was in a good mood as always. This new academic year, which begins on the first Monday of every June, had begun. It happened to be on the third of June this year. The classes were suspended after mid day for a PTA meeting to chart out the programmes of the prospective academic year. Every year the manager would appear in the beginning of the school year to scintillate the teachers and parents with a cornucopia of promises. He seemed to  be a dream merchant, he was prone to dream aloud for the benefit of the teachers and guardians. But it does not matter anymore what he promised as a later day Don Quixote and what he failed to deliver.

The government had long ago declared the school to be uneconomic for want of students. Each class should have at least fifteen students,  that is, there must be at least sixty students up to fourth standard in the primary school tucked deep in a remote rural area bordering the virgin woods. But the manager knows, as everybody else does, that the government will never close down the school because it caters to poor and underprivileged tribal students. The powerful Syrian Christian community sends their children to high profile public schools which offer most advanced facilities. Even though the school manager himself is a Christian, he does not expect his own community to send their wards to his school. Even his own children studied in far away schools. The wretched tribal children, just thirty three of them, deign to come to the school, only because of the incentives provided by the government- free uniforms, free food, medical care and lump sum grants. As the parents were not fastidious it was easy to teach themand manage them. Academic quality was not a matter of concern. For four classes there are only three teachers, Alice the head mistress, and then Maya and myself. My name is Seena, by the way and I am a junior teacher who joined the school a couple of years ago.

The manager kept on bantering. The tribal mothers gazed at him oft blinking and wondering. We, the teachers were getting impatient to get back home. The south west monsoon had begun, it was raining almost nonstop.

‘This year we will celebrate the silver jubilee, we will bring important people including the chief minister and a film star. I have some hold in Trivandrum, I know people who know important people. It will be an event in the region. We will constitute a programme committee in due course. The leaking roof of the building will be restructured once the rains peter out.

‘And another important thing,’ he looked at us to measure our reaction. Suddenly there was some degree  of curiosity in the eyes.

‘I know that we need another teacher. The appointment has been made, she will report for duty in a day or two,’ he concluded.

A sarcastic simper spread on my lips involuntarily. The rascal has made it again. He will give the post to anybody who donates one million rupees. It is his benefit for running the school. The salary will be paid by the government and he has the prerogative of appointing the teachers at will. Now all of us had a reason to be curious about the new teacher incarnation. It is going to be a woman in any case, because no man stoops to take up this job any more.

The school is very close to my house, just five minutes’ walk up hill on a deserted concrete road. That was the very reason for my buying this post. My mother is all alone and I cannot afford to leave her behind in case I take up a high profile job far way in the chaotic cities. I prefer the silence of the villages, the sad posy of the dreaming sylvan hills where time altogether fails with all its ruthless machinations.

Next day, as it was raining we conducted the stereotyped assembly in the verandah. The brats with running noses and soaked uniforms, were struggling to confine themselves to the academic constraints. Then a taxi whirred in and a girl made her dramatic debut into our rugged world. The new teacher, Rose, stepped out of the car. Suddenly the rain stopped and the sun peeped out from the thick tufts of frowning clouds. First I saw a pair of cute sandals followed by a cream coloured saree. And then the most beautiful woman in the world emerged. She was bathed in the sun. Her face, the face of an angel that we fancy in the classical Christian theology, looked at us with a disarming smile. The entire assembly stood there petrified. Her home must be somewhere in the clouds, somewhere in the heavens. She sashayed to us like a slice of pure heaven, her face radiating a celestial hue.

The assembly was immediately dismissed and we hurried to the office room to get a closer look at her. Rose and Alice were seated across the Spartan office table after the formal introductions. Maya also engaged a seat close by but I chose to stand with a selfish motive to bathe her with my eyes from top to toe. Her thick overflowing hair looked like a tuft of cloud gleaming in the setting sun. She had perfect nose, as if chiseled out and polished, betraying her Semitic lineage. Her eyes had a profound black blue hue, like the deep oceans, like consolidated posy. And her colour- my God- she looked like a real rose, a pale rose colour she had. Just behind her sensual promising lips, a cute black mustard seed of a mole was gracefully perched. Saree, the most graceful feminine costume in the world, seemed to be glowing on her. There was a mutuality indeed, her heavenly body and the saree glorified each other. From my vantage point I got a mesmerizing view of her cleavage. There is nothing like that in the whole world. Mother Nature has never ever bothered to sculpture out such a delicious pair of sheer perfection. Those symmetrical cones of paradise were encased in snow white lace bra. A tiny gold cross was proudly settled in the heavenly valley at the bottom end of a thin gold chain. The breasts and bra were perfectly encased in a blouse matching the colour of the saree that the angel was gracefully draped in. her fingers, with rose nail polish, were thin long and pointed. Her feet were cute and small with polished mouth watering little toes. Inside my blouse, my nipples were acting funny. They tried to burn out of the confines of the bra. In my panties butterflies were fluffing and fluttering. I was magnificently aroused.

Rose was requested to proceed to the fourth standard, the senior most class. I made it a point to proceed to the adjacent class, class two. There is no partition between the classes. The school building consists of an L shaped building with an elevated platform in the middle which serves as a stage in case of meetings. This platform separates two long halls. The office room is at the tail end. From my class room I kept on furtively feasting on her back side. The creamy shadow of her bra straps was very much visible behind the fabric of the lovely blouse. The enticing cloud of silken hair delectably graced her shoulders. I was almost drooling at her behind. A pair of delicious globes swiveled inside those creamy layers of the saree. I was impossibly and incorrigibly excited, my gusset received snots and snots of  ecstatic cream. I wondered who in the world is going to have the fortune to revel in  that piece of heaven on the move. Whole day I was in a distracted mood. The students were happy that I was not a tyrant any more. I was in  my dreamy world to the last period. After the classes she smiled at us so very sweetly by way of parting and hurried back in the last bus back to the town. She had to travel a long distance, all the way to Palai, a center of Syrian Christians and high fashion.

When she was gone I suddenly felt an emptiness, as if the power supply was gone in the thick of inky night. I tried in vain to inhale the soft sweet gentle perfume of hers, even when the rose had wilted and fallen for the day. I went and sat on her chair and a gargantuan chill swept past me. Yes I was tremendously infatuated. She may never know how she is wracking the gentle heart of a village girl. With a moody mind I strolled my way down to my house, weighed down by a huge emptiness inside me.

I was anxious for the next morn to dawn. I longed to be back at school, I was not a perfunctory teacher any more. I wanted the classes to begin and once again to feast on the walking dream on earth. But she did not turn up. I was silently raging and fuming inside. May be she missed the bus. Even after the second period the emptiness she had left behind remained intact. At last I went to the headmistress and asked her what happened.

‘Oh, she had come to test the waters. She will come prepared after a day or two,’ she said off handed. That night I silently prayed for her early return. I had to see her, her mere presence would make me think that the world is beautiful and worth living. Whole day I was irritable and ill tempered. I just had to set my eyes on her once again.

She reappeared only on Friday, the last working day of the week. The bell was not yet rung, the kids were frolicking on the ground, we the teachers were huddled up in the office room. Then I heard the children suddenly going silent, they were piously acknowledging her reappearance. Unable to contain myself, I darted to the verandah, I had to see her. After all I, being only twenty six, am the only junior teacher in the school and she has every reason to gravitate towards me and strike a camaraderie, she was only twenty  five.

Our eyes met and locked. There was some kind of deeper recognition, some kind of realization- I suppose. She smiled at me and a shock of excitement shot through me.

‘Good morning,’ I accosted her.

‘Very good morning Miss,’ she echoed and her words sunk into me like a magic potion. The munificence of her eyes spoke volumes, spoke languages as old as our race. I shadowed her to the office, forgetting myself in the soft heavenly fragrance she wafted, the soft rustle of her saree was haunting, like the light flying leaves fluttering in the grass in the sweeping autumnal breeze. ‘We were waiting for you whole week, the teachers as well as the students,’ I whispered.

‘Oh God, the journey is too much and I had been toying with various options,’ she said like music.

This time she was in a pale yellow saree and matching blouse of the same colour. She looked like a flowering plant in vernal heydays.

Again I was in a wonderful mood. The world was alright again, the job was wonderful. The inner climate is piously reflected outside. I kept on feasting on her all the time. The silhouette of her costly lace bra was killing me. Standing on her right hand side I tried to get glimpses of her breasts time and again. Oh it was heaven to me. She was again in fourth standard and I had managed to be in the adjacent class. Every time I got a flash of those curvaceous wondrous mounds perched enticingly on her heavenly chest, a streak of excruciating excitement would shoot down to my pussy straight from my bust. It seemed that her nipples were perpetually erect, straining to pierce through the soft layers of the bra, blouse and handsome pleats of costly flowing saree. I was virtually straining at the leash to feel and make love to her scrumptious back side. The imperious distances of morality and social fences kept me back.

Once, when she came close enough to me while going the rounds in the class, I whispered almost inaudibly, ’Rose Miss, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever come across in my life.’

She heard me indeed and it was registered by a cute blush. She looked at me eloquently once again and said softly, ‘thank you’

During the lunch break I approached her again, only to listen to her, only to feast on her.

She said that she was the youngest child in the family, her elder sisters are settled in the US, and her only brother is running the family. She prefers the villages and pristine nature’s bounties. But the distances are a drain on her. She was seriously debating on quitting the job. I was crest fallen, I had to retain her.

‘Look Miss, don’t quit this job, you are highly educated and these backward kids need you. Would you seriously give some thought to what I have to offer as an empathetic colleague? In your place someday somebody else may come, but that new person will not be you. I and my mother stay alone in my house. There is lot of space there and we are just five minutes away from the school. We will be immensely happy and proud if you would choose to come and stay with us, you could stay there as if it were your own house. Of course our humble abode is not comparable to yours in Palai.’

‘Oh Seena Miss, I am honoured. I will discuss this fabulous offer with my parents and brother. I hope that they would agree, they are prevailing on me to leave the job’, she took my hand.

Those soft deft hands, absolutely feminine hands, they held me like a whiff of silk.  High voltage electric pulses flashed through me.

‘The school reopens on Monday, if they agree with my proposal, please come and settle at home at least on Sunday itself, the long journey in the morning will be tortuous for you,’ I said wistfully.

‘Probably today itself I will discuss this and call you, would you give me your cell phone number,’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ I told her the number in a haze and she saved it on her phone, ‘tonight I will call you if the decision is positive.’

I badly needed her number but I was too embarrassed to ask.

‘That will be wonderful and I look forward to that,’ I said furtively looking at her delicious breasts.

I was beaming with happiness. After the class, when we parted she blessed me with a redeeming smile and a caressing massage with her lovely lustrous eyes. I was thrilled like a throbbing wattle in the shooting mountain stream.

My mother is fifty and healthy, she does not look her age. She is a self made woman and a strong woman for that matter. She brought me and my brother up almost alone with her teaching job after having walked out on her husband after four years of marriage. I had an apprehension whether she would veto my proposal, imperious and impetuous she is oftimes.

‘It will be excellent dear, she will be good company for you. I was bothered that you have no friends her in our isolated village,’ she said. I could not help smiling from ear to ear. Friday night dragged on, I held my cell phone as if my life depended on that. I did not watch television, I did not write letters as I usually do on Fridays, I needed a magic to make her call me. After ten I went to bed with a lingering trepidation. I felt as though I had missed her in between my shaky fussy fingers. Then the phone rang, I was back to life.

‘Hello,’ I said softly, my body shivering with anticipation.

‘Hello could I talk to Seena Miss,’ it was a man’s sound authentic and booming.

‘Yes I am Seena,’ I said.

‘Please hold on for a minute,’ he said.

Then came the salvaging music I had been waiting for, ‘good evening Seena Miss, I am Rose.’

‘Oh thank you for the call, I have been waiting whole day for the call. I had forgotten to take your number,’ I said.

‘The decision is positive,’ she whispered.

‘Thank you I am thrilled. I was seriously afraid that I was going to miss you. You will not regret your choice, will you come and join me on Sunday afternoon?’ I confessed despite myself.

‘I hope so, and good night, have a peaceful night, see you on Sunday’

‘Thank you and good night to you,’

‘One more thing you are very beautiful,’ she laughed softly and the phone died.

Cold sweat broke out on me. My arm pits were drenched with passion. Indeed she said that I was beautiful. It is the greatest compliment I could look forward to. I was energetic again, I was brimming with enthusiasm. I sprung up from my fetus position on the bed and switched on the light. With gentle steps I move to the full length mirror. She had acknowledged that I am beautiful. I had always stayed away from boys, I have never had a fascination for them and their compliments I never needed. But it had never occurred to me that I was a potential lesbian. Such a behavioral aberration will not be tolerated by the puritanical society. Such people will have to suppress their genuine feelings and orientations and pretend to live a normal life. Probably I am a lesbian and ahead of me lay a vast and darkening mine field.

The image on the mirror was not bad. My face was gentle and handsome with a pair of vivacious eyes. The thick hair I fluffed open flowed down to my bum like a cascade. My neck was shapely and smooth. I cupped my breasts inside my translucent gown. They were luscious and fairly big- 34 C of course. Rose also must be of the same size, but hers are more shapely like Mount Fujiyama defying the vicious imperatives of gravity and time. I fondled my precious assets closing my eyes and fancied her and hers. Till date whenever I touched myself, it had been a mechanical process with no images in the mind to spice up the process. Now I have the paragon of womanhood to draw inspiration from. Anon my nipples became rubbery and bursting with excitement. I felt a tingling down there. My hands moved past my flat and small belly and proceeded to the naval region. My fingers fluffed the thick turf in between my legs, it was very wet, my juices were feeling their way down my quivering thighs. I fancied my hungry and eager hands on her private parts, I fancied my fingers entering her. My fingers entered into a syrupy warmth, my inner muscles of the vagina hugged my fingers and milked them. Within minutes I came shuddering,  flooding my fingers. I licked my fingers imagining that I was tasting her juice.

Back on my bed I reasoned that I should not rush on her and scare her away. I will have to be tactful and infinitely patient. If she revolts against my amorous advances and storms out on me, it will be almost impossible to work together as colleagues. Also the stigma of a lesbian will not be condoned by the society. No matter what your sexual orientation be, the society insists that you have to get married to the opposite sex and have children. Any deviation from this beaten pattern is looked down upon and not tolerated. Any way the next best thing is to have her under my roof and savor the pleasures of being near to her. That will suffice for the moment.

I prepared my room for her, sweeping and tidying everything. I arranged the bed for her, with fresh bed cover and pillow cover. I wondered how very fortunate those bed sheets are to have her closer to them in the days to come.  I wanted to make her stint memorable to both of us.

She knocked at my door around three o clock in the afternoon on Sunday, putting an end to my angst and anxiety. This time she was in a different outfit- in fresh blue jeans and a white shirt that hugged her sweet breasts. This time also  the mouth watering outline of her bra was visible inside, primarily because of a thin film of perspiration on her shirt. The arm pit s of her shirt had become very moist with her delicious sweat. The crotch of her jeans was sticking to her private parts and I desperately wanted to plant a passionate kiss down there, sniffing her natural fragrance. I stood at the door blinking and lost in lustful fantasies.

‘Hallo, ‘ she said tugging me back to the ground realities.

‘Oh sorry, do come in I was distracted for a moment by your beauty,’ I was flustered. She laughed beautifully. I picked up her bag and ushered her to my room.

‘If you want I can arrange a separate room for you, or you can stay with me if you like my company,’ I made a tentative suggestion desperately hoping that she would prefer my company to solitude.

She seemed to consider the prospects for a minute or two, then she smiled disarmingly and said, ‘ of course I prefer to stay with you.’

‘I hoped so, here your bed has been arranged, closer to the window so that you would get fresh air. My bed is here closer to the wall’

‘That is nice, but where is your mother?’

‘She is gone to the church for the afternoon mass. She will be back in an hour, she is anxious to meet you, the most beautiful lady in the world,’ I said. She laughed again.

I took her out to tour the house. ‘If you are into reading books, here is an ocean of books for you, you can burrow into them. You will find almost any topic under the sun in these shelves. Fiction, romance, poetry, philosophy, religion, history, science, politics, mysticism whatever,’ I boasted.

‘Whose are these books?’

‘They are stacked up by my brother. He is into books, he has been collecting books from childhood. But don’t worry, he is not here. As he did not get a teaching job in any college he joined the army. He is stationed somewhere in the border areas, three thousand kilometers away. He will come on leave only in December.’

‘But I am not into books. I would rather not disturb them. Here is an electric piano, whose is this? Do you play on them?’

‘It is my brother’s passion. He is into music. But you may play on it if you like it,’ I offered.

‘May be,’ she smiled.

‘Here in this room there is computer, television with four hundred channels and wifi facility. The broad band facility offers unlimited usage, so you could engage yourself with all these facilities,’ I said.

‘That is wonderful. This house has everything and the tranquility that only a village can offer. I am impressed,’  she said.

In the meantime she had opened a couple of buttons on her shirt. I could clearly see the buttery swell of her breasts and the erotic upper edge of her fresh and white bra. With my eyes very often gravitating to her bust, I was huffing and often stammering.

‘This shirt is very beautiful on you,’ I blurted out.

‘Do you think so,’ she looked down on her bust and blushed wonderfully. Her delicate lips twitched, they would possibly melt into a pair of lips which are fortunate enough to kiss them. I violently resisted to kneel and glue my lips on the crotch of her jeans. I was bathed in the invisible mist of her magnetic fragrance.

Then I guided her to the sit-out only to moderate my burgeoning passions. ‘sitting here you can watch the mountain river Pampa lasciviously meandering its way down slithering across the dreaming hills donned in thick and lush tropical vegetation. Across the river the woods expand deep into the eastern horizon. Sitting here you can watch the river patiently singing to you, you can watch the seasonal birds settling on the boughs and serenading for you,’ I tempted her.

‘Ah, I did not expect this much. This is the ideal milieu to sit back and paint,’ Rose said.

‘So you are a painter, that is wonderful. May be I could show you some of the paintings of my brother. They must be there in the shelf.’

‘That will be nice, what does he paint’

‘Mostly pristine nature, mysterious patterns of the clouds, the melancholy woods in the eerie dragging rain, the hollering mountain streams, the flowering tress of April, lonely birds in denuded woods- things like that.’

‘I paint flowers and butterflies and nothing else. The ecstasy of giving and taking is a haunting topic for me. I can show you some of my paintings,’ she said.

Her body language told me that she was pleased and excited. I also was excited, in a different way though.

‘Shall I take bath and fresh up before you mother turns up,’ she asked.

‘That is wonderful, come I will show you the bathroom,’ I held her hand and guided her to our room.

She bent down and opened her swollen bag to pull out a crimson gown and a huge turkey towel. My eyes immediately darted to her behind. The jeans became a strained after skin on her shapely bum, my fingers itched to fondle them and kiss them for eons together. Then she unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it off her marvelous body of perfection. Her dainty shirt softly settled on her bed. Then she unbuckled her belt, opened her jeans and pulled them down sitting on the bed. I seriously though that I was going to swoon. What a pair of breasts they are! No poet can ever describe their heavenly beauty. They were glossy smooth and shining. The perfect buttery cones wonderfully filled into the cups of her bra. They had occupied the entire cavity offered by the cups. Those cups were jealously and ecstatically embracing the loveliest pair of breasts ever created by good God. The apex of the cups was strained by the leathery nipples which were indeed erect. Unknowingly I licked my lips with a diabolic urge to lick and kiss those divine peaks. As the spiritually oriented pilgrims travel to the mountain tops for salvation and beatitude, I would rather travel to those redeeming vertices with my passionate lips, deft fingers, worshipping tongue and a devout and fervent soul. Oh God I can never in my life stray far from those pair of greatest wonders of the universe. I would rather spend the rest of my life worshipping them, paying homage to them, composing paeans to them. Suddenly I came thud to the realities when she covered herself with her large towel, wrapping and covering herself from her magical bosom to her upper thigh. I did not get a chance to steal a glance at her pantyed paradise. Then she proceeded to the bath room promising to be back very soon.

Suddenly I was promisingly alone in the room. Impulsively I grabbed her abandoned shirt, my hands were shaking with excitement. I kissed the front of her shirt, she fabric was still beaming with the memory of those fabulous mammary glands. It still had the swell of the sweet and luscious pair. The faint and heady musk of hers filled my lungs like incense. The armpits were moist. They were radiating the pure fragrance of a perfect woman, the intoxicating fragrance. I sniffed and gently licked the armpits. Slightly sweet salty flavor spread on my taste buds. My panties were flooded, my whole body was throbbing. Leaving the shirt on the bed, like a somnambulist my hands went to the jeans. First I gently kissed the outside of its crotch. A tornado was building up. Her enticing musk embraced me like a maelstrom. I had reached a point of no return. Then I buried my head inside the jeans. How can I explain the chemistry of that perfume? The perfume of the sweetest pussy in the history of human kind- no attar or perfume from the exotic land of Arabia could stand a chance to that gentle sweet fragrance of mellowed womanhood. It was not a stale or putrid smell, no chance. It was the fresh heady musk of newly blown rose. For the first time in my life I came violently, that too without touching my nipples or playing with my pussy. I had lost control over my body, it underwent violent convulsions and my underbelly had had strange spasms. I was swooning- deliciously swooning. I collapsed on the bed and trembled in the throes of a sweet death.

By the time Rose emerged from the bath room I had transferred myself to my bed. She looked at me in askance.

‘What happened?’ she asked innocently.

‘Just relaxing,’ I patched a foolish grin. A faint smell of my arousal still lingered in the room. I hoped that she may not notice. She appeared in a crimson gown in which the swell of her bust was accentuated. I will be cuming and cuming in her presence if she chooses to wear gowns like that, I inferred. I was in a dreamy world, my feet were not probably touching the ground, I was floating. Small drops of water were dripping down her mane of lovely hair. She wrapped her hair in the turkey towel and sat on her bed.

Then we heard footsteps outside. My mother was back, we both went to the entrance to receive her. My mother aged fifty is a well shaped mellowed lady with a non-nonsense attitude. She is only five feet six but she effectively throws an imperious and regal air. Even at twenty six I am afraid of her. She had been partial to me all through, I do believe that she had brutalized my brother. But that is another story.

We opened the door to receive her. Rose might have expected a savage country woman with little education. Instead she stood in front of a polished and well accomplished woman who knew what she wanted.

‘Mother this is Rose, my colleague,’ I said.

‘Oh dear, I was dying to meet you, such a young lovely lady, Seena had been singing about you all these days,’ my mother hugged Rose and planted a swift peck of a kiss on her rosy cheeks.

‘Please go to the kitchen, let us have tea. I will join you after changing into something comfortable,’ my mother said. She was in her graceful saree. I guided Rose to the kitchen. Often my body touched her mesmerizing gown, sparks of passion streaked. Her fragrance made me light headed. Mother joined us in her light blue gown with intricate white designs on it. She rolled her thick hair into a bun, bracing up to attack the utensils. I was floating on cloud nine.

‘Do you have any preferences regarding food”’ my mother asked.

‘Whatever you eat, I am not fastidious,’ she quipped politely.

‘We are almost self reliant on food. We raise finger gourds, plantains, yams, spinaches, bananas, cow pea, amaranths, papayas and may more. The vegetableson the market are all soaked in pesticides you know. We don’t even buy fish from the market. They apply formalin on fish to be sold to the infidels, I mean non-Muslims,’ mother grinned with a conspiratorial wink.

In the morning both of us were preparing to proceed to the school. I made it a point to stay close to her as much as possible. When she took her comb I offered to do her hair. Fortunately she acquiesced. She was sitting on a chair and I stood behind her. This position had a huge advantage, I could safely look down her cleavage. Her breast was in a pure white lace bra the boobs looked as if they would melt like butter in the sun. I could even get the glimpses of her areolas and nipples. They were dark red and fiercely engorged. Nipples were straining against the cups.

She seemed to be enjoying my gentle ministrations. I got to touch her hair and please her and that mattered a great deal to me. She had closed her eyes. Feasting on her breasts, I could stand there whole day, but we had to go to school, Rose seemed to be lost in a drugged trance. In the meantime I had designed her hair into a cute pony tail. I tied her hair with a rose ribbon and placed a fresh rose in the band, the same rose that I had greeted her with at the crack of dawn.

My luck did not end there, she needed help while putting on the saree, the formal costume of Kerala, our state in India. She was not used to that delicate process. She confessed that she was used to jeans and churidars. Her mother used to help her put it on at home. I arranged the pleats and the hem kneeling at her feet. I direly needed to embrace her midsection enshrouded in lovely folds of silken saree. Sitting there I stole a classic view of breasts from below. They were so strong and robust, their ample size notwithstanding. There was not a trace of sag. They were like perfect cones  of consolidated beauty. I swallowed my saliva time and again. I wondered whether I would ever get a chance to worship them.

We proceeded to the school, I shadowed her like a drooling puppy watching her swaying hips, watching her sweet face, watching that perfection on the move in a fabulous saree.

‘I am sure that you would in due course learn to love our village,’ I said.

‘Indeed I do love this village. I need this. I am slightly asthmatic, I cannot stay in the din and rabble of the cities. This lush greenery bursting with life is panacea to me. And then I am in the company of two fabulously beautiful women,’ she smiled beautifully.

‘Oh thank you, I never knew that I was beautiful,’ I said.

‘You are, you are beautiful,’ she earnestly touched my hand. I was dazed with rapture.  It was the certificate I treasured most.

At school I tried to remain close to her finding one excuse or the other. Realizing my proclivity to be near her, Rose would sweetly look at me and bless me with a smile which would bathe me like the full moon night. Her smile was an eloquent acknowledgement that I mattered to her, that she cared for me. As long as she was in the range of my vision, I was upbeat and energetic,

Usually in the afternoons we let the kids play on the ground. The teachers stay close by watching them. We both sat together on the verandah observing the students. She was still fresh as a new born rose, her fragrance was still alive.

‘How was the day?’ I asked.

‘Perfect,’ she smiled.

‘Do you enjoy this job?’

‘Indeed I do. I treasure this village atmosphere, I love these poor rugged kids and I marvel your goodwill.’

‘Do you feel at home with these savage children who look differently?’

She looked at  me quizzically.

‘They were here long before our pioneering ancestors reached here. They still follow a value system which remained intact over millennia. We have been changing, our value systems have been changing, we have been destructively interacting with our environment. They are the children of Mother Nature, on the other hand we are like hunters, we hunt our own mother. I care for the tribal communities, they are facing a grave identity crisis. In Attappady there are many hamlets where not a single adult male is left alive. All of them embraced pre mature death by self induced liver cirrhosis. All of them drown in alcohol and deadly drugs. The reason is that the greedy avaricious main stream society has shattered their self esteem, their timeless economy and sustainable means of sustenance have been shattered. Still they have not forfeited their simplicity and innocence. They represent a noble culture. I am awed by  their culture and realizations that are very reasonable. All tribal communities in the world have certain common features. They had no private property, nature was their mother. They are all based on a primitive socialism and a democracy of direct representation. Above all there is no culture in the world in which women are treated as equals except tribal societies. Aryan and Abrahamic races like ours pushed women to the obfuscated backyards. Tribals treated women as equals, nay in many communities the matriarch ruled the community. They survived across tens of thousands of years because they yielded to the flawless reason of nature. Their agricultural practice of shifting cultivation and mixed crops is now realized to be the perfect and the most scientific one. We will have to pay dearly for having shattered their mosaic of cultures and identities. Mainstream society should respect their cultural common denominator and refrain from violently pushing down our truths and rights down their vulnerable throats. It will shatter them. Once in the 19th century a certain tribal leader in NE India was hanged by the then colonial government.  He had led a revolt when the government stopped them from entering the forests, it was like separating mother and children. His last words come trundling down the centuries: we are the equally beloved children of god our nature. All of us survive in piety for nature and mutual respect – as brothers and sisters.  Pray from where did this government come?’

‘To put it in a nut shell and to express it in plain language you care for the tribal communities,’ I grinned.

‘Yes, I do,’ she whispered as though she was marrying somebody.

I was still in a dreamy drugged mood even when we reached home after the classes. She removed her saree and went to the bathroom to take a bath. I waited for my turn. I was smiling to myself, life had become a euphoria, life had become a fever for which I sought no cure. She emerged in a thin white shirt and maroon skirt which covered her down to her cute knees. Two of her buttons were open offering me a magnificent vista of those hypnotizing breasts. I proceeded to the bathroom like a seasoned thief on the sly. I was lucky, I got what I wanted. In the bucket in the corner her soiled clothes were left to be washed in the morning- her blouse, bra and panties. My whole body shuddered with excitement. I picked the delicate blouse and sniffed in the armpits and cups which embraced her bust. The warm musk was still there. My pussy was over flowing. Then I picked her bra and buried my face inside the cups. I was in heaven. I wanted nothing more and I was safe in the seclusion of the bathroom. My climactic trophy was her delicate panties. The aroma from the gusset was embracing me. I never knew that a woman’s private parts could be so delectably musky and sweet smelling. I was hooked instantly. Tentatively I tasted the moist part with a furtive gentle swipe of my tongue. Yes, I loved the magic potion. It was delicious aromatic and kinky. And I came with a bang, my nipples twitching and pussy throbbing. I collapsed on the floor huffing and gasping for breath.

Days came and went fleetingly. Months came to pass. The rainy days had given way to sunny days in between. The harvest season had come, the villages were agog with activities. I loved my life and the electric passion I had for her remained intact. I fondly dwelled on the hope that the passions would one day reach a flash point, that it would reach the critical mass resulting in a chain reaction, resulting  in the opening of the flood gates. It had to happen, she cannot remain thick and passive to the libidinous vibes for all time to come.

Separations were pernicious and murderous. During weekends she would go home to be with her parents. I would suffer like a fuming hearth. It was like a patient denied his oxygen, it was like a fluorescent lamp denied its electricity, it was like a plant denied its water. It was like a drug addict denied his daily dose of grass. I used to find my shadow of consolation putting on her used shirt kissing and sniffing her heady lingerie. I wondered how I was going to survive when one day she flies far high and away leaving no trace behind. I knew that parting is inevitable, everybody has to part one day or the other. In nature nobody is indispensable. But such calamities could wait. ‘Jesus, teach me to take one day at a time’ I hummed.

On a particular Saturday I was peevish and pining for her therapeutic presence. Having nothing else to do and as loneliness was smothering me from all sides, I sent a brief message to Rose on whatsaap.

‘I miss you.’

Instantly came the reply, ‘I too miss you and long to kiss you.’

I was thrilled and elated, life coursed through my system, ‘I am pining for your return.’

‘I am straining to join you at the earliest. You know not how much I miss you, you may never know. I have been thinking of you.’

‘That is promising, I am exhilarated that it is not a one way traffic.’

‘Yes dear Seena, you are now the center of my quaint universe.’

I was shivering like an aspen leaf, my arm pits were sweating. The said word sped arrow and gone opportunity never return. Still I took the chance, I took the tremendous risk of exposing myself:

‘I think I am in love with you,’ I wrote and hit the sent button.

‘I know dear and I am madly in love with you.’

‘But I am afraid that I love you differently, I am in love with you’

‘So am I’

‘I thought I was sick, I thought that the society will condemn me and banish me’

‘Society has no locus standii here. Loving is not a crime’

‘The electricity of love swept past me on the very day we met on third June at school for the first time,’ I confessed.

‘I know my sweet pet. You were obsessed by my breasts’

‘How the hell you know?’ I was embarrassed.

‘You were looking down my cleavage and I enjoyed the show, I hope that you loved what you saw’

‘Dirty devil, yes I became a devotee of those breasts ever after. I cannot ever stay far and away from their ambience.’

‘On the same day I often stood sideways to help you get a clear view of my breast under the saree, if you had watched closely you would have seen how erect my nipples were’

‘Are they erect all the time?’

‘Nope, only when you are looking at them, only when I am in your warm presence, you should have seen my panties at that time’

‘You were more wicked than me. I was enamored by that saree of yours. You looked like a goddess’

‘Here is another secret. I had almost given up the job on that day because of the difficulties involved. My parents do not approve of me going to such a remote and savage place. But you brought me back there’

‘Me! That is interesting.’

‘I could not ignore the love in your eyes, I wanted to return and lay claim on that.’

‘I am happy that you came back, to be my heaven’

‘Do you remember the Sunday afternoon when I came to your house to stay? I went to the bathroom primarily to masturbate?’

‘That is a woman. When you were enjoying all by yourself, I was sniffing the inside of your jeans and shirt armpits and I came violently’.

‘Oh my! Do you like my smell down there?’

‘It is sheer heaven. Almost every day I used to lick your soiled panties.’

‘That is wonderful, I will cum now reading this’

‘I am very wet and flowing’

‘It is not to be wasted, I want to lick up to the last dreg. Did you like the smell of my armpits?’

‘Very much. You have dainty velvet hair up there. It is a big turn on. I am dying to lick kiss and sniff them’

‘Oh god I am coming again.’

‘Have you ever been in love with a woman?’

‘It is a long story, I will tell you when we meet. It is love that matters, not sexual orientation. What about you?’

‘I have never been in love with anybody, man or woman. I had no liking for men. I never knew that I could love women until we met. You brought out the genii that were dormant inside me. I have pleasured myself with my hands but I have never had an orgasm. That is until I sniffed your jeans. I am a late bloomer, I suppose.’

‘That is interesting, we will make up for the lost opportunities. This day is important to me, we could open up. It would have been embarrassing to confess face to face. I wish I could come to you now by some teleportation technique.’

‘I am always with you, like the fragrance around the rose. When I am no more I will come and stay in my eternal abode and heaven- on that lovely bosom.’

‘Oh dear you are making me tipsy with love.’

‘In my dreams I have kissed your lips a thousand times, sweetly softly and with an inherent piety.’

‘Which lips?’

“Mostly the horizontal pair, the vertical pair in my orgasmic dreams.’

‘I cannot divulge my dreams on this, the phone will fulminate and explode. I will tell you one day.’

‘Shall I send you a selfie of my semi open bust?’

“Please ‘

‘With or without bra?’

‘With bra, the bra filled is very erotic on you’

‘There you are’

‘This will keep me going until we meet.’

‘Until we meet on the shining river’

‘Shall I send a selfie of my bust, I am in your white and soiled shirt, but no bra’

‘That will be wonderful’

‘Which part of my body do you love most?’

‘Your flowing hair, your nose, your lovely kissable lips, your magnetic breasts, your promising hips, your very edible garden of Eden, your limbs, your cute fingers, your love laden soul, you in toto.’

‘You are too audacious’

We remained electronically connected for the rest of the day. I became a quantum of energy on the move. I became a heaving ocean of consolidated love. I bloomed into my true self.

From early Sunday morning I began the preparations to receive my venerated beloved. Mother would go for her weekly shopping and church and hence the coast was clear for our libidinous rendezvous. I washed all the soiled clothes, including hers and took an elaborate bath to be fresh and pure enough to receive her into my arms. I decided to put on a light rose shirt and black knee long skirt with matching rose bra hooking in front. Then I applied a light perfume to be enticing to her. I was brimming with energy and love. Love had transmuted me into a new being. I fancied her 5’ 6’’ melting into my  5’ 7’’ like milk fusing into sugar, like iron joining with magnet like day melting into night. She is the Miss. Right that I have been looking for. I will never be able to take a trajectory away from her, she being the centre of my universe. She would make me full and complete. I did not take my lunch, she will be my lunch dinner and refreshment. I was willing to wait, now that our destiny is sealed.

‘I am waiting for you in trembling hope,’ I messaged.

‘I am hurrying my dearest, I am speeding to you, I am dying to hold your luscious body in my arms’ she responded immediately. She knocked on our door in the afternoon. I opened the door with some apprehension, my chest palpitating. There she stood in her cream saree, the one  in which I had seen her for the first time.

‘Oh my dear,’ we fell into each other’s arms. In an inexorable impulse I stood on my knees and kissed her hand, my eyes shining with obvious desire. She pulled me up closing the door behind us. We kissed- it was an epic of a kiss. Her hand ran through my mane of hair and the other hand was behind my back holding me closer. My body was convulsively trying to merge with hers, my breasts were kissing their lovely angelic sisters on her chest. I slightly nibbled at her soft lips, she moaned and tightly embraced me. Our tongues massaged each other and I slurped up the syrup being welled up in her sweet mouth. Her aroma enveloped me. My hands danced fervently on her back.

 ‘Let us get into the bedroom,’ she guided me in.

‘Let me remove your graceful saree, before it is crumbled,’ I whispered.

I reverently removed the clip of the tail of her saree on the shoulder. I pulled it back exposing the heavenly bust packed up in the cream coloured blouse and white bra. Then I pulled out the rest of the fabulous fabric, folded it and placed it on the headboard of the bed. I moved back a few feet to cherish the perfection of beauty exposed in front of me. The divine being I dreamed of and adored is very much in front of me palpable and tangible.

The creamy blouse went well with the creamy breasts. The bra cups could magnificently accentuate the perfect and mellowed morphology of her breasts. The valley in between beckoned with heavenly promises. Her see through underskirt showed the outline of her snow white panties. Again I knelt and planted a passionate kiss on the front of her panties through the thin underskirt. The aroma of perfect feminine filled my hyper active olfactory system. Again she frantically ran her fingers in my hair and pressed herself onto my face. I experienced her convulsing and climaxing on my face, bathed in her aroma I also came. The first one in her willing company. She guided me to the bed and together we collapsed on the bed and giggled like school girls. Her blouse was slightly wet with sweat. We lay facing each other and my hands exploring her delicate blouse.

‘I will be an eternal devotee of these breasts,’ I whispered, running my hands on the swell of the breast. She smiled sweetly and encouraged me by running her hands in my hair again.

‘I have dreamed a great deal about this heaven on earth,’ I said.

‘I have dreamed a great deal for this moment, the moment of offering these breasts to you,’ she whispered.

I nudged closer and softly kissed the underside of her chin, then her shining neck. Piously I proceeded to the sweaty valley and licked the holy water. She encouraged me with her hands. I unhooked her blouse whilst my lips composed a poem on her breast.

‘Oh dear,’ she hugged my face.

I opened her blouse and took a close look at the bra magnificently straining against the breasts. It was the most erotic sight in the world. I nuzzled against the fabric. The bra was slightly wet with perspiration. My face moved up long the soft skin. Her musk from the arm pits was intoxicating. It was a cocktail of her sweat and the gentle perfume dabbed on her. I peeled off the blouse and before discarding the fabric I kissed and sniffed the cups and armpits. Rose tried to smile but she could not as passion was torturing her.

I opened her armpit, like a child opening her present. There was a soft thin mat of velvet hair, which I snuggled against and sniffed. My panties were flooded, I gasped and strained for breath. i licked up the moisture  and she writhed.

Nobody had ever taught me how to make love to a woman, I had no idea what to do, I was just following my heart. My body was acting on its own. I proceeded to open the bra, I had been saving for that moment. Her breasts defied all imagination, they were at their morphological perfection, ripe glossy and magnetic. The areolas were deep pink and puckered with passion. Nipples were impressively erect and beckoning like twin light houses at night.

I found myself kissing sniffing and licking the sides of the breasts, my hands simultaneously caressing them. She made strange sounds encouraging me and her hands wandered on my back. Always I stopped short of touching the nipples. I was saving the most delicious part of the experience. Unable to stand the torture anymore, Rose forcefully pulled me to her nipple and placed one hand on the other nipple. It was the most intimate and ecstatic experience in my life, I was dying with happiness. She climaxed then bucking and mewling. Her climax induced another orgasm in me.

I went up to her mouth again to kiss her, to recharge myself with life from that pool of life. I had to continue my exploration. I kissed her flat taut little stomach, opened her underskirt and pulled it down, kissing every inch exposed to me. She raised her hips to facilitate the process. Her valley was beautifully drenched and aromatic. I kissed the edges of the panties, then the panties. There was a butterfly painted on the gusset. She liked butterflies. I became a butterfly and she became a flower rich with fresh pure nectar. I licked the nectar seeping out. She writhed bolted and spread her thighs. Her eyes were closed, her body had become autonomous with passion, her reason having no control over her. Taste of fresh juice was exquisite. I had been familiar with the stale juice till date. There is no nourishing herbal medicine in the world even remotely comparable to consolidated love affectionately secreted by a beautiful woman. Every drop is more precious than vintage wine.

Now I needed to gift me with the most hallowed experience in my life- opening the curtain and visiting the holiest of the holy. I pulled down her drenched panties, she cooperated semi consciously. The core of her being, the very centre of my universe, was in the middle of a mat of soft and silken blackish brown hair. I licked up the juice the turf was flooded with. She was whimpering now. My tongue reached the opening. By exploring myself I was familiar with the geography of that region and also the dynamics of passion down there. I began to feed on her, the spring of nectar flowed out for me. I licked everywhere ravenously, my soul was my guide.

Her body stiffened, then it writhed in the throes of death, she raised her hips and pressed my head to her. She was whimpering uncontrollably. Then the universe collapsed, constellations collided, tsunamis raged.  It was an earth quake which measured 9.9 on Richter scale. She lay there limp and spent, I continued to lick her and massage her gently to handhold her down to the shattered earth.

She remained in that drugged state for half an hour, before opening her cute petals of fluttering eyelids.

‘Oh god it was something. Who trained you like this,’ she asked.

‘None, I did what my love dictated,’ I confessed.

‘I have never had an orgasm like this, thank you,’ she said.

That was the greatest reward I would long for in this life.

‘But it will be long before I will be able to stand on my feet,’ she smiled sweetly.

I lay there gently and leisurely kissing and sniffing her pussy, my hands gently running over her cool soft thighs.

‘Now let me unwrap the gift god has given me,’ she pulled me up to her mouth. We kissed with an abandon. Her nimble fingers fluttered on my shirt buttons. Very expertly she removed my shirt and bra. I was shivering, her first kiss on my chest set me on a wordless cosmic dance. The moment her angel face touched my screaming nipple, I came. Her ministrations continued. By the time she reached the confines of my panties I had come four times. She pulled out the panties and licked the syrupy transparent juice from the gusset. Then she kissed my knees, inside of my knees and progressed north along my thighs making a wet trail. By the time she reached the neighborhood of my core I came with the consciousness that the most beautiful woman on earth was doing it to me, her face was between my thighs. Her tongue was delicate and confident, experienced and gifted. Her tongue spoke a language of heaven, it sang an epic of love and fulfillment. I cannot squirt the way she does. But I was profusely leaking, I guess. I felt an ocean roaring inside me. My body writhed thunderously. The agony was acute sharp true and sweet. I became a blaze, I became a dream, I was liberated from my mortal grossness. I think I made strange sounds, I think I cried. I felt myself exploding and thrown about in the cosmos as smithereens. The explosion coursed its way across the dimensionless infinity. The stars shed their rare tears of bliss. Thus I was initiated into paradise.

By the time my mother turned up we were almost back to normal. She looked sedated and entirely satiated. She glowed angelically in a post coitus sanguinity. I felt very light headed and elated. I felt like floating in the air, as if I were a spirit, a floating tuft in the whimsical breeze.

Mother was pleased to see us both happy and relaxed. She looked very mellowed and wonderful with her rich and shapely bosom and pleasant visage. When she proceeded to the kitchen with her shopping bags, seductively swaying her large hips for our lewd entertainment, we both smiled and hugged each other furtively. Every now and then we would find a consolation in embracing and kissing only to re-confirm our eternal bond. The whole night was with us and a whole eternity too to know each other, to love each other, to understand each other, to explore each other. We were not in the mood to have dinner, we were anxious to get back to the bed and renew our relaxed steamy session.

As soon as we entered the bed room we were on each other. We undressed each other in a hurry and proceeded to the bed kissing and fondling each other’s boobs. Now we are not in a ravenous anxious mood. We had time. We kissed deliciously for some time setting each other on fire. I had realized that she loved being kissed on her neck and behind her ears.

Once again my face gravitated to her. She was cooing and encouraging me with her hands. I loved it very much to sniff around and lick the delicious contours of the twin towers on her bosom. Her boobs are very sensitive to my ministrations. One of her nipples slithered and bolted in my mouth and the other one in my greedy fingers. She was softly gasping. I was amusing that I could make her cum just by pampering her bust.

‘I cannot think of staying away from these perfect breasts of yours’, I whispered.

‘I will tell you who sculptured and nurtured them to this shape and size,’ she responded. She was very gentle, very relaxed and lascivious. She was like a sedated and fully satiated cat. She was almost purring.

I kissed her breast in assent. Her thigh came over my hip and held me close, her hand was softly massaging my back, my buttocks and hair, taking time. It was talking time.

‘I am not a congenital lesbian. I was induced into this rarified realm by a wonderful woman. I suppose that almost every woman carries a lurking lesbian in her. Only few are initiated into it. Those who are handheld into it never look back. They will never need a man. I stand in that stage. But I do not hate men, I am just indifferent. In my teenage I secretly craved boys. But I had no relation with them. I knew that when the time is up  my parents will choose the right boy for me.

When I went to college, suddenly I was freed from the domineering umbrella of my parents. I felt liberated. It was a women’s college. There was no chance of meeting boys. Prof. Anne took particular interest in me. She was very supportive and caring. She was almost like a big sister to me, my mentor my patroness and my refuge. She was thirty at that time and I was only seventeen. I had absolute trust in her. Her husband was staying abroad as a scientist. She was almost alone, with her two small kids and her aged mother. One day she suggested that I could stay with her and give her company and in return she could supervise my academic progress more effectively. In fact I was not happy with the hostel environment and my parents promptly approved of that proposal. Thus I became an inmate of her lovely house.

Whenever she was pleased with me or happy with me she used to hug me and cradle my face in her fragrant and soft bosom. I loved it, it was exhilarating. At times I even craved for that intimate experience. Once when she embraced me in my room, for some reason beyond my comprehension I brought up my right hand and cupped her breast. A mischievous smile appeared on her face and she ran her hand on mine quite encouragingly. I was thrilled.

‘Do you like it?’ she asked with a conspiratorial grin. I nodded.

She opened her blouse and offered a nipple to my hungry mouth. I think she came like that. That evening she invited me to her bed.  We slept together ever after and she converted me for good. An ordinary girl gets her first sexual experience after marriage which is in her late twenties. I have had my regular orgasm since I was seventeen. At that time I had only two promising buds for breasts. She nourished them, gently massaged them, pleased them, prompted them, worshipped them pleasured them and induced them to perfection over a period of five years. Even after MA we continued our secret relationship whilst I joined for TTC in the institution nearby. So what you enjoy now is the fruit of the dedicated and religiously fruitful endeavors of an honest devotee-Prof. Anne.’

‘Do you still meet her,’ I asked with a tinge of envy.

‘No, she has taken in another young and nubile protégé, I was shocked and I almost mutinied. Then plain reason told me that I had to move on, I cannot remain stuck there with my emotional baggage. She was not my destination, she was only a way side refuge. You are the destination, you are the final sanctum.’

‘I am a congenital lesbian,’ I declared proudly, ‘You opened my eyes.’

‘Oh dear, humanity is undergoing a positive evolution, it is brazenly contravening the basic precepts of thermodynamics and entropy. We are getting more suave and refined, we are fine tuning our libidinal sophistication. Mating is not any more the process of the most powerful among the male species hunting down and violating the female in heat. It is not any more the process of the narcissist of a cock bird mounting the hen and proudly marching off. Women do not appreciate violent and bragging haughty males any more. They demand a gentle and refined approach from the male, respecting her, worshipping her and praying for the pleasures she is endowed with. In this case males cannot compete with females, because females do it much better to each other. Only the obscurantist social conditioning, like the dog of Pavlov, that keeps us from pleasuring each other and erroneously take it to be the impatient and bungling prerogative of the male species.’

‘I don’t know how we are going to survive in this puritanical society. Hope that god will find a way. As Santayana put it, when we intensely desire something the entire universe conspires to make it happen.’

‘Of course we should pray to God, She will show the way,’ Rose whispered. I passionately kissed her cleavage. Rain was humming a sonorous lullaby outside. The night was cool and wet, we were hot and wet. I got a little adventurous and moved south. I kissed and tickled her belly button through the shirt. Then I kissed her underbelly and pussy through the skirt. Her heady aroma was purifying the room. I filled my alveolar cavities with the heavenly perfume.

‘I am addicted to this aroma,’ I whispered. She encouraged me with her hands snaking on my head.

I rolled up her skirt and with my lips provoked goose bumps on her cool white thighs. She opened her thighs acquiescingly. I was making love to her long and lovely limbs. On many an occasion I had thirsted for her toes and petite rosy feet. I was gravitating in that direction. I was only following my heart as I had no prior experience in sex play. Like the new born cub feeling its way to the dam’s udder I was acting out on a software installed in me by the absolute feminine that orchestrated this symphony of life on mother earth.

My drooling lips had in the meantime reached her shin, ankles and then her sole where my sole soul of happiness lay. Rose was mewing and writhing. Her toes slithered in anticipation. When my lips touched her toes, she gasped, the circuit was completed, sparks flew. I washed her toes with my syrupy saliva. Her hips bucked in sweeping paroxysms.  My mind was soaring to exalted plains of pure unadulterated bliss. Her whole body shuddered and she came with a gusto. It took a few minutes for her to ascend to the ground. Then, spreading on the bed, she shimmied the panties down and shucked the skirt down in a sweep. I was invited to her sweet wet land, which was saturated with her aromatic syrup. My tongue roamed about in the soft turf reveling in the liquid manna it was strewn with. Once the lush meadow was expunged I turned to the pool of pleasures. My tongue was stiffened and it stole its way into the depths of heaven twirling and caressing the walls.  I sucked deep for more honey. This intimate feeding process ended up in a violent orgasm, she flung out her legs screamed an alien language jerked up her pussy and in violent paroxysms squirted into my earnest mouth sweet gentle shots of rare nectar.

She was exhausted and lethargic. Rose pulled me up and promised to return the favour once she was recouped. It was a pleasure servicing her, worshipping her beauty, nothing more I wanted. I closed my eyes with my lips pressed to the side of her breast and one hand cupping the other breast. Happy to the core and drained, we slipped into a sweet slumber again the timeless pathos of the rains of June, and then into a dreamless inky sleep in the unfathomed depths of monsoonal night. It was heaven up above the realms of carnal pleasures, it was heaven built of love pure and unconditional.

In the morning we did our ablutions together. Life was a euphoria and a forgetting of all the absurdities in life. We helped each other in putting on the saree and in applying cosmetics. We combed each other’s hair. I tucked in a fresh red rose on her beautiful hair. I was overwhelmed by her dazzling beauty. Awestruck I embraced her and kissed her in the mouth. To brace up for the rest of the day I sucked up the sweet nectar from her delicious mouth.

‘My fulfillment, my happiness, my nirvana, my succor – it is you,’ I said.

On the way to school we would time and gain hold our hands, it was a reassurance that we are one for e rest of our lives. I was gloving like a bride, so was she. At school we would cast glance at each other very often and her eyes told volumes to me. She would look at me turning her face, through the corner of her bewitching eyes. It had a twitching sweetness which would straight dart to the core of my pussy. During the class hours our sexual tension was building up. I would scald her luscious sweating boy with my lust laden eyes, so would she. I was in dire need of making love to those wondrous breasts. The awareness that I am wearing the panties that used to hug her honey comb of a pussy was telling on me. Also my breasts were covered by the same lucky bra that used to hug hers. In the afternoon, while the kids were frolicking on the ground Rose retreated to the toilet and came back after a few minutes with a funny grin on her angelic face super charged with love. She came straight to me and put her index finger into my mouth. Suddenly a regaled flavor and an intoxicating aroma spread in my mouth. She had scooped up the love secreted for me in her pussy. I was giddy with happiness. My pussy also was saturated, but I did not have the candor to give her a treat the same way. Then she sat on a chair in front of me, slightly moving the front of her saree to offer me an excruciatingly savory profile of her heavenly breast. From the top of her blouse I could see the globular outline of her priceless asset.

‘I am very much indebted to Prof. Anne,’ I quipped.

‘What for?’

‘For ardently bringing up this pair for my pleasure and happiness.’

She laughed like ringing bells, her lips screamed for my lips and her beautiful eyes sand a song never heard by humanity. There were tiny beads of sweat in the heavenly valley between her breasts. I licked my lips looking at the valley, she laughed again.

‘Wait dear, it is all yours,’ she laughed again. I wanted to pounce on her like a panther.

‘I am going to eat you raw the moment we hit home,’ I threatened.

‘We will see who is going to eat whom,’ she grinned. The sexual tension had reached a flash point, both of us were in an inflammable stage, only a spark was enough to result in a conflagration. After school we rushed home, there was no time for sweet talk, love was bursting at the seams.

No sooner we entered the room than we were at each other. The front of the saree was on the floor. We were assaulting each other’s mouth ravenously. Our hands were fondling the breasts. I wanted to suck on her breasts, she also wanted the same. The million dollar question was who will do whose first. The urge was so strong that our entire life depended on that, the future of the world depended on that. Even while kissing we were unhooking the blouses. Maddened and blinded by passion we were fumbling on each other’s chest. In a flash we saw my other at the door. In our mad passions we had forgotten to close the door. There was a lightening surprise in the eyes of my mother. She was petrified for a moment, then she tactfully retreated back to her room. All our passions drained away in an instant, our nipples became soft and humble.

A furious chill swept past me. We had made a bold and brazen statement to her, my mother who is an uncompromising disciplinarian. She is a no nonsense woman. She will not condone this wanton demeanor from her pet child. I was embarrassed and ashamed, Rose looked pale and shattered,  as if she had sighted an apparition. So early our dreams have been shattered, our cute little world has been pillaged. We could be dismissed from the school if we are exposed. She could disown me, the church could disown me. I expected a cataclysm.

‘No matter what happens, we will stay together to the last,’ she whispered in my ear.

‘We will,’ I concurred holding her frail hand.

Life has to go on, we had to face the frowning gorgons of reality, we have to face her before she barges in with her retribution. We took bath, separately this time as we have been summarily sobered like a drunkard falling in front of the police.

‘Let me go and meet her and face the music, I will not let you down, we will go together if needs be,’ I offered.

‘No dear Seena, I will go and explain. It was my fault. I was taking advantage of her kindness and hospitality. I will offer to go, I will resign the job. I have connections to find a teaching post in north India. You could join me there once the dust is settled,’ she offered.

‘No chance, we will be together. Let us go and meet her come what may,’ I had braced up for the inevitable.

I was shivering inside my foolhardy air notwithstanding. Together we marched to the meet her in her den. She was not there, then we went to the kitchen. It was now or never. She was making tea on the stove.

‘Welcome love birds,’ she smiled brilliantly. We both were shocked.

‘I am happy that my daughter has found her Miss. Right. She is so lucky, this is what I wanted in my times. I was not bold and forthcoming at that time. I married a louse of a man for a husband and bungled up my life. Seena is also my way, this runs in the family. Rose is the best woman a girl could aspire for as a life mate. This is what I missed altogether in my life and this is the only regret in my life. I never came across a female soul mate with whom I could share my life sorrows, comforts, pleasures, worries, soul, everything.’

We couldn’t believe her words. Our eyes welled up. I was really expecting an Armageddon, the very end of the world. The tornado we counted on proved to be an easy fleecy breeze, the tsunami we had bolstered up for had turned out to be a tickling ripple.

‘Thank you mother,’ I almost sobbed. Rose was coming back to life.

‘You together make the best pair in the world. You together will put the best garden in the world to shame. You are the spring of god given life, She will bless you,’ that was benediction enough for us.

‘Now come here girls,’ she commanded. Then she made us embrace each other and kiss.

‘May your days be fraught with hopes dreams and love.’

Thereafter there was no looking back. We were on our own, we were a compact elite club in which there was no space for anybody. Ours was a nest perched high in the heavens where angels hobnob, where God takes out long walks in Her blushing evenings, where exotic dreaming flowers of bottomless love bloom.

Rose did not go home to her parents on that week end. We were inseparable, our passing touches passed electricity of love and understanding. Our life was rhythmic like a song. We shared each other’s used bra and panties. After having used by both of us only we washed them, this underscored our intimacy and spell on each other.

On Saturday we took over the kitchen, mother was allowed to take rest. I wanted to make something special for the day. Both of us would kiss fondle and hold each other whilst engrossed in our culinary experiments. Lunch was almost ready by mid day. I needed a break, hence I dragged Rose to our bed room. We kissed and I fondled her marvelous pair of breasts. I kissed behind her ear lobes, down under her chin and I proceeded to lick the moisture settled in her electrifying cleavage. She shivered and gasped. I lifted her gown and dived in to claim my reward long due to me. She lifted on leg and placed it on the bed to facilitate my intrusion. My anxious tongue propelled her to a cliff of passion. Immediately I brought up the glass bowl I had secretly brought with me. When she blessed me with the sweet white squirt  of nectar I collected it into the bowl. First quantum was followed by three more copious spouts, then the flow subsided into two or three lesser squirts. Her spasms slowly died down. When I emerged with my booty in the bowl, she was still standing there eyes closed and glowing in the ex tempore orgasm. I had collected almost 50 ml of nectar from my darling. I prompted her to recline on the bed and recuperate. She was miserable panting. I kissed her breasts and asked her to take rest.

With a wicked grin I rushed to the kitchen. I added sliced banana fruits, pineapple, sugar syrup and vanilla flavour to the nectar my love had excreted for us. Lunch was ready. I arranged the curries, pickles, curd and salad abound the bowl of rice and invited all of them.

After lunch we turned to the salad. My darling immediately understood the recipe. She blushed beet red and looked at me. She kept her face bent. Mother took her first sip and looked at me. It had an exotic taste, an enticing taste, the true taste of my beloved. Mother laughed aloud, she understood, I  suppose.

‘The tastiest salad I ever had,’ she declared.

‘Don’t share the recipe, it will remain a jealously guarded secret among us,’ she continued.

‘We will make more of this,’ I offered.

Rose was terribly embarrassed.

‘Don’t be shy my pet,’ mother consoled her, ‘I never knew that you taste so sweet. My daughter is lucky.’  Rose smiled peevishly, abashed and demure. It added to her natural charm, brazenly I kissed her.

That night we celebrated our happiness making love to each other with a patient dedication. Then we eased into each other’s arms to sleep. My face was as usual, glued to the contour of her breast, my hand on the other breast.

‘Darling,’ she whispered.

‘What angel?’ I kissed her nipple.

‘It is news that mother likes girls.’

‘It is interesting indeed. Poor girl she missed it all. She had never told us her story. The very mention of my father infuriates her.’

‘She has long since been secretly looking at my breasts. I think she is attracted to me. Till today I had assumed that it was an innocent curiosity. Now I know that she is attracted to me.’

‘What will you do about it?’

“ I don’t know. You are and you alone are my priority. Nothing else matters. If she ever makes a move I may not revolt or storm out on her. I know how much she is sexually frustrated. That is if you are not hurt.’

‘I want you to be mine now and forever. I cannot share you, not even with god. I know that She will be infatuated the moment She sets Her eyes on you. ‘

Rose giggled and held me to her breast. We were silent for some time.

‘But then it will be a strategically wise move to have her way with you, then we will have her on our side in case something happens in future. She will furiously rally behind us and that will be a solid investment. It must be done, if at all,  behind my back. I will act dumb,’ I said. She patted me and we faded into delicious slumber.

A few weeks later I had to go to the DDE’s office with the head mistress. Rose had to go back home alone as it was holiday in the afternoon. Mother was ironing our clothes. Rose joined her in support. Mother was on Rose’s newly washed blouse which was thin and delicate.

‘Your blouse is so delicate and it becomes of you,’ mother inferred pressing the material.

‘You have such a wonderful pair, so shapely and beautiful as if a gifted sculptor had worked them out.’

‘Thank you mother,’ she said quite ashamed.

‘It is just between us, can I have a look,’ mother asked.

Before Rose could react mother gently removed the front of the saree, like unveiling a classic work of art.

‘Oh God,’ mother stood there transfixed, ‘my daughter is really fortunate to enjoy these.’ She gently ran her fingers on the bulge of the blouse.

‘Oh mother’ Rose leaned to my mother’s ample bosom.

‘There my child,’ mother opened the buttons of her gown and pressed Rose’s face to her 34D. Rose nibbled and kissed those slippery slopes. Mother guided them both to the bed close by and offered her puffy nipple to the young delicate crimson lips. If I heard is correct mother came then and there. It took a few minutes for her to recover from the hurried orgasm.

‘Now let me worship this goddess,’ mother meticulously unhooked and opened Rose’s blouse. She removed the blouse and bra with utmost care taking care not to hurt that pure feminine poetry. For the next one hour or so my mother had been fondling kissing and making love to those breasts that I treasure most in the world. Rose climaxed many times during the course.

Mother then opened Rose’s saree and shucked down her under skirt. Rose’s panties were drenched and fuming. Rose helped her to shimmy down the panties wet and sticking to her pussy.

‘Oh dear I have waited a lifetime  to taste this, to experience this. I had access to this pleasure trove only in my most hallowed dreams,’ mother, like a fervent and awestricken devotee kissed the folds. She lapped up every drop oozed out from the spring in the Garden of Eden. Then came the earth quake and the tsunami. Mother was rewarded with copious squirts of life saving sweet potion.

‘Thank you so much dear for obliging an old lonely woman,’ mother’s eyes were running over with happiness and gratitude.

“Thank you mother for being so kind and loving,’ they kissed for long and slept in each other’s arms.

Thereafter mother has been making love to her once to twice in a month and I acted dumb. I did not care as long as Rose was mine.

Time was flying. We lived in eternal ecstatic present. But I knew that nothing was forever. Nothing good will last forever. Rose’s parents have some traditional responsibilities. Their duty is to find a decent job for their child after her education and then a suitable boy also.  Naturally they will be looking for a boy on the matrimonial columns or among their friends. It poses a mortal threat. They will not be amused by her orientation and abnormal preferences. Perhaps her brother will understand. Something had to be done before it is too late. I thought of the tribal African method. When wild forest fire comes aggressively blazing, they set fire to the grass around the house. Fires kill each other. The possible preemptive strike is to arrange a marriage for her here. The right candidate for the same is indeed John, my brother.

I patted myself for my shrewd design. I hoped that mother and Rose would buy my dream, they had to. There is no other way. Rose was stunned, she blinked at me. I convinced her that it was the only way to integrate her into the family for all time to come. My brother will be here only for a few weeks during his annual leave. For the rest of the year the theatre will be entirely our own. She will have to tolerate him and his advances for a few days. Rose’s parents will be happy with this proposal as her job will not be compromised. My mother, after some serous soul searching, approved of the suggestion.

Gentle winter days of early November were laying their soft mantle of gossamer on the blades of grass  in meadows of the river. Life was spilling out of land and  river. The trees were full of fruits and the region was active with harvesting and charms of life. In December John was to come on  annual leave. Mother told him over the phone that a marriage was being arranged for him. The girl was a teacher from the local school who is very good looking and well behaved.

For an arranged marriage there is a wonted traditional procedure fine tuned across the centuries. The procedure began when John turned up in December. When somebody comes home on leave he brings sweets eatables and dress for the family members. But my brother’s bags will be pregnant with books. Books that he collected during his travels. On the first page of each book he would enter the place and date and a sentence to reveal his mood o f the day. It is fun reading his entries on thousands of books accumulated over the years.

‘Inky night drags on, I wait in trembling hope’

‘The nightingale also slept finishing a lullaby to herself’

‘The town heaves, peeved by the worms wiggling in its soft underbelly’

‘Winter comes to the snow clad hills, and I enter a new phase o f life’

‘What is this life except an impotent longing?’

‘I trudge past the towns and villages dragging my dreams behind me’

‘The star studded heavens loves me, this puny little me’

I could take my time reading it all. Now there are other exigent things to be attended to.

First step towards the marriage is the visit of the boy to the girl’s house with his close people. All three of us went to Rose’s house in Palai. Hers was a big and aristocratic family, very well to do. Her parents are brother were very polished and kind. John was allowed to meet rose privately in a room to talk each other  out. It is certain that John would like her, no man can resist her pristine beauty. She also will find him charming enough with his 6’ 2’’ height, handsome face and gentle nature. Things were working out according to our script.

‘I am in the army where death walks with us, breathes with us and shadows us with a mysterious smile,’ he said.

‘do you like war and political high drama part and parcel to it,’ she asked.

‘Well there is no room for liking or disliking. War is a cultural imperative. It brings out the best in man and the worst in man. It sets the pace of the long march of civilization. But if you ask me, I am not warlike, I take my kinky pleasure in my defeats.’

‘Do you love your job?’

‘I had no choice. I could not be what I wanted to be. We fight Islamic terror with state sponsored terror. After another seven years I will opt for voluntary retirement with full pension. Then my life will be my own. Then I could settle down with my books, writing and cultural activities.’

Both the boy and girl expressed their approval of each other. Next stage was haggling- haggling for dowry. But in our case dowry was not a critical parameter.

‘You give her what you willingly want to give her, it is irrelevant for us,’ mother declared. That was a clever move, her parents liked it.

As his leave was only for a month, the process had to be hurried. Engagement, which is to be at the bride’s parish church, was fixed on the very next Monday. I took the liberty of choosing the saree of my beloved- cream coloured silk saree. The function was simple and elegant. After the function I took her to her bedroom and we kissed passionately. She even let me fondle her breasts even though she was tensed.

The subsequent stage was the one week long consoling class at the diocese without which the marriage cannot be consummated. The wedding shopping was the exciting stage of the process. All of us three met Rose and her people at Kottayam for the shopping. Mother and I renewed some of our jewelry. I and Rose chose the ornaments we aspired to have on her on the day of wedding. We hung together often touching and brushing. We stole few touches on each other’s breasts and giggled. I told John that I would buy the thali (managal suthra-the gold necklace to be tied around the neck of the bride during the wedding ceremony, which has to be there for the rest of her life) for him. it was my secret pleasure to pay for it. After a fabulous lunch at a high class hotel we proceeded to the cloth shop. The bride’s team has to buy the wedding dress of the groom and vice versa. Her also I was assertive and bought the wedding dress of the bride on behalf of John. My simpleton brother knows not anything about the drama behind. Both parties parted in the evening, I painfully parted with her with a hug. Our eyes told us everything.

Wedding took place in our parish church. It was a fairly big gathering. The climax of the ceremony is the priest blessing the saree (bought by me) and the groom tying the knot around her neck with the thali on. It is the time when many grooms fumble and bungle in the zenith of their nervousness. Hence sisters often come helping. I took advantage of this possibility and myself tied the knot with him playing the second fiddle. It was followed by putting the blessed saree on her shoulders by the groom. To keep the saree from falling usually the groom’s sister takes it. By way of helping I put the saree on her shoulder and collected it with him supporting the process. It is the saree the bride has to take with her to the grave at last.

After the wedding, before the photo session begins the bride had to change over to the blessed saree and blouse. I went with her to the changing room. We kissed passionately, the first kiss after the ceremony. She was bursting with passion. We embraced and remained locked in kiss of many minutes. Then I undressed her, kissing and fondling her breasts as much as possible. In the heat of the moment I came, so did she.  I hooked up the blouse and helped her put on the blessed saree which I had vicariously bought on behalf of my poor brother.

Mother and I officially welcomed her to the house as a member, as an integral part of our family. She entered the house holding a traditional lamp and putting the right foot first in the house. Te first night has to be spent at the brides place. By evening the motorcade took off to Palai. I was shattered, I was handing away my precious girl to a man. He was going to ravage her with the permission of the society and family. He will maul her priceless breasts and sacrilegiously molest the paradise between her legs. I felt helpless. Whole night I remained worried and fulminating, worried and simmering. He would penetrate her holy hole that oozes shear honey. He will be like an elephant in the cane field- a blasphemous vandal.

At night I talked to her only to consol her about the impeding calamity. Early in the morning again I called her unable to stand my angst. She assured me that it was not painful, he was gentle and considerate. Also my fingers had prepared her over the months to receive him.  Still I was worried, I could not bear the prospect of my girl in the arms of a man.

The rest of their days were spent on travelling, visiting friends and relatives. I could have accompanied them, but I found it unbearable. I was back to normal only when he went back to his army camp in Kashmir. Things were back to normal, we loved each other with increased passion. But other problems followed. He was distracting her with his unending phone calls and messages. As if he had telepathic faculties, He would call in the middle of our love making. I detested it and hated him with all my heart. She promised me that her mind was shut out to him and that it was I who mattered in her life. Still I found her moody and lost in thought very often. I wondered in anguish who was going to save us from him.

His messages were super charged with love and longing. Sometimes they were full of sorrows, sorrows of separation, sometimes they dwelled on hopes of being together. He loomed large over our otherwise serene life. At times he pined over her indifference. He surmised that she was cold to him, that the chemistry of love did not exist between them. Sometimes he was beaming with optimism, he was dwelling on a life together after his retirement.

Life still pulled on. My girl was indeed struggling to balance her life between her melancholy husband and monopolizing wife. It was a preposterous tight rope walk. I cannot trade her for the whole world, I had to have her all to myself, in this world and also in the world to come.

It was another November, just one month away from his annual leave. We were at school, engaging the students, it was hardly two in the afternoon. Suddenly John appeared at school in a taxi. He was in his military uniform. He stormed into her classroom and guided her out. I was surprised. I found them both going down to our house. Though I was all curiosity I did not intervene as he obviously did not seek my company. My only consolation was that my mother must be at  home. He may not bother to violate her in broad day light.

But it was a different story. He had come accompanying a the body of a soldier ambushed and killed by the terrorists. He had to hurry back as he was on duty. He had stolen a few minutes to meet her. He had other designs too. He ushered her into the bed room and kissed her. He promised that next time he would make love to her as per the romantic script he had in his dreams. Without any preliminaries he rolled up her saree and pulled down her panties. She did not resist, his passion was inexorable. Surprisingly she was very wet, he came after a few strokes.

“Sorry for the rush, I will learn how to serve you. Can I have these panties,’ he asked.

“All right,’ she said reluctantly.

‘Can I have this bra too,’ he asked fondling her breast.

‘Please John, I must go back to school and mother is around,’ she pleaded.

He went to mother’s room, exchanged few words and was gone. I was seething with fury when I heard it. He did violate her, the brute of a bastard. Mother also was outraged.

‘We will break him dear, we will teach him how to treat a lady, how to worship and pay homage to somebody superior to him. Woman is not a sex object, she is a superior individual, more civilized, cultured and peaceful. He will not have his way with him. He will have to part with his male chauvinist pride to get anywhere near to his gem of a bride. He will never ravage her, not under my roof. If he deserves his woman he must be sensible enough to her sensualities, sensitivities and sensibilities, his devotion ahs to be complete and unconditional.’

After her marriage, Rose had been barricading herself from the amorous advances of mother. She never offered her a chance to make love to her. But Rose and I were as warm as ever, inseparable and intimate. So much so that our periods were also synchronized. Our dreams and ambitions were all identical.

His prospective annual leave in December hung over us as a frowning wraith. It was a necessary evil. I had no means to avert it or to assuage the consequences thereof. We continued to make love with a timeless cadence. Our bodies knew each other, their needs too. But I hated and dreaded December.

In December, defying my prayers he turned up. This time he came with bundles of clothes and sweets in addition to his regular load of books. Somebody had apparently enlightened him how to go home. But his delicacies were cheap and worthless. And the dresses he had chosen for her were useless. They were meant for the hussies on the streets. He had no taste. He doesn’t know that the best woman in the world deserves the best of everything. In fact I had been giving her the best in the world, let it be lingerie or dress- and we are sharing them. I told her that we could donate the trash and rags to the charity when he is gone.

‘I have brought high quality liquor from the army depot, tonight we will straight go to heaven and stay there till morning,’ he whispered in her ear. I sniffed danger.

After dinner he seemed to be impatient to take her to his bedroom. But mother intervened.

‘If you want to have your girl, you should deserve her. I cannot let you hack her in my house. You stand on your knees, kiss her feet and then kiss her hands. After that beg of her to bless you with her company,’ she commanded.

She is a small woman, at least in front of him. It was like a puny mahout bullying and controlling a tusker. But I know my brother, he dreaded her, she had always been a tyrant to him. He was jolted. He stood there shocked by the ambush.

‘I will do as you commanded, when I am ready for that,’ he muttered and walked out with his dignity intact. Rose accompanied me to our room. She was frightened, she buried her face in my breasts and suppressed a sob. She feared that he would barge in any time and let loose a storm in the house.

‘I know my brother, he will not disturb us. He is not a go getter. He gives away everything, even his own life.’ I told her with confidence. Night dragged on. We heard music, he was playing on the electric piano. He was playing melancholy gazals which disturb our soul.

I have come to your town as a faceless traveler, I looked for your house whole day, now the night is come and I have no place…’

‘Oh sorrows, if you also abandon me at this stage of life, what else I have as my own?..’

‘On this moonlit night where shall I look for thee, where?..’

‘Only for you I have weaved a dream of seven colours, only for you..’

A strange moisture was settling in our souls. Who on earth could be thick to gazals? Somewhere deep at night the music died away. The nightingale also stopped warbling. It was silence everywhere. Then a rare drizzle rattled on the roof, water trickled down the gutters like tear drops. She hugged me forcefully as if trying to escape from a troll. I soothed her patting and massaging her backbone.

In the morning we had no idea how to face him. I felt that mother should not have denigrated him that much. But she had a case, I suppose.

He did not emerge from the house as usual. He is a early riser. By mid day I crept into his room. There was no trace o f him, he had vanished. But he had left behind a message.

‘I suppose that you are all party to the absurdity staged yesterday. Hence I address this all of you three. Love cannot be exacted at gun point. Love is an exquisite sacrifice and a sweet pain which cannot be presided over by a grim faced tyrant. I am what I am and I will not demand what is not willingly yielded to me. Life is a sad shadow show of ignorance. I question nothing demand nothing and expect nothing.

There is no gender difference in suffering. Man is not superior, nor is woman. Both are complimentary. Man is his will, so is woman. If they are united it has to be on mutual respect love and understanding. Nobody is a paragon of virtues. We are the mix of both weaknesses and strengths.

Today in the lingering silence of a wet and morose night, I plan to go out on a long and aimless journey. I will travel among unknown men and women, I will sleep on the pavements, railway stations and deserted temples. I will stalk with the flux of Indian life, sadly poetic and settled into a rhythm in the chaotic social cacophony.

I came to you with a cornucopia of dainty dreams. Now those dreams lay profaned and shattered. When our dreams die, we die. When our hopes die we follow. When our love goes unanswered we speak an alien language. But when we are bereft of dreams all worries are ended. Indeed I am an alien here. A sitting duck left to the machinations of time and fate.

 I promise to remain  in touch.’

He had left behind a vacuum. Rose sent an SMS wishing him safe journey. Mother was menacingly silent. We dreaded her. He kept on sending messages to her as to where he reached what he experienced and what he observed.

One month passed like that, he was not coming back before joining for duty. The news was welcome to me at the same time painful too. Mother was again furious. She called him on the phone.

‘I am your mother, I command that you should come here before you go back to your army camp.’

‘Mother you brought me to this world, you were a domineering presence in my life. Many things in life I was denied. many facets of life I never had access to. But at this stage I cannot come back and report at your doorstep. People have priorities. I have my own priorities. And coming to you is not my priority now.’ He hung up. He hung up on her. That was mortal sin. She had never tolerated even an iota of disobedience in him.

Mother banged her phone. We were frightened. On her table she had kept the photographs of mine, Rose’s and his. She pulled out his photo, tore it into two and then burnt it in the flame of the lighter. We were shocked.

‘The one who defies me is not my own,’ she muttered.

He continued to send messages to her and talked to her on the phone for long periods of time. He used to share his aspirations apprehensions and worries. Also he offered her many promises, like visiting places, like having a home of their own, like having children. I wondered when I would have her all to myself insulated from all those emotional dead weight.

The last message from him to Rose had a curious tone. He said that he would follow Jesus Christ if she is altogether incapable of loving him, the man who stood on the side of sorrow. The one who never gathered an army, who never had been to the corridors of power, who was on the side of sinners wretches and the scum of the society, the meek one who never built empires and monarchies, the one who spread the message of forgiving and sharing,. He marched with a regal will on the path of suffering and took all the suffering with him. He himself would cross the frontiers of suffering to be on the side of Christ.

Then for  a few days we had no news of him. The silence was broken by a phone call from the army head quarters. It announced that the chief of staff was going to speak to Rose. His grave booming sound informed her that John had attained martyrdom fighting the terrorists. That the Indian defense forces are proud of him, that the country was proud o f him. Shortly the news appeared on TV. John Akkara, son of Anna Akkara had laid down his life while fighting. The Islamic terrorists were holding two hundred students in a girls’ school as hostages.  John had single handedly stormed into the terrorists and killed all the seven of them and not a single student was hurt. But in the process he lost his life.

Phone calls started pouring in. the chief minister, union defense minister, governor, MPs and many other dignitaries called. Next day the village was flooded with media men and strangers. Local TV channels and dailies were full of him. His body was flown down to Trivandrum and was placed in the town hall. Thousands thronged on the long journey of the cortege to our village. When the body reached home the whole village was taken over by strangers. Uniformed military personnel managed everything. His body was covered in the national flag. But his face was not visible, it had apparently been disfigured by the gun shots. All of us were in a shocked stupor. Mother said nothing, she stayed to herself, composed though.

The government of Kerala, and government of India offered one million rupees each for the bereaved family of the hero. Many other benefits followed.

I was trying to get some sleep after many sleepless nights. Then I saw a curious figure, he looked exactly like John. Tall and refined, aquiline nose and salt and pepper beard, then it struck me, in front of the coffin stood my biological father. I understood why my mother hated John, John was a true copy of his father. My father, my mother’s bete noir. Mother’s face turned red with rage.

‘Ask him to get out before I hit him,’ she hissed in my ear. I did not want to create a scene but I did not have the cheek to show him the door. I asked Rose to do the job, she was dazed. Still she went to the old man.

My father keenly listened to her. The he silently walked out like a defeated Greek hero. She followed him to the court yard.

‘Please tell Seena, my daughter that this will be my last visit to India. I will be dead within a few months. Tomorrow I will fly back to Singapore.’

It took many more days for the dust to settle. Our life was shattered by the riotous course of events. Then came another news. The president of India was going to honour John with Param Veer Chakra, the highest military decoration in India. Only twenty one people had received it so far. This offered more benefits in cash and kind.

We were given air tickets to fly to Delhi to receive the post humus honour from the head of the country. Mother refused to come, she felt that she was not a good mother to him. But she yielded at last. It was our first air travel. We were received at the airport and taken to a five star hotel run by Indian Tourism Development Corporation. Everything appeared like a dream. Food was fantastic and the hotel crews were very polite and courteous. I and Rose slept on a double bed and mother chose the single bed.

“Any way he died for a noble cause, he saved the lives of two hundred girls,’ mother sighed and said. We said nothing.

John was indeed a nice man, very caring and loving. I had exploited him a great deal. Memories flashed through me. Once in our childhood I had demanded to pluck and bring a water hyacinth to me. Ignoring the risks involved, h e walked across the river, and almost drowned. He would have been no more if a farmer feeding the cow on the meadows had not come to rescue him. On another occasion I demanded a wild shapely gourd in the thicket on our way to school. He waded into the woods and disturbed a hornet’s nest. He was stung all over and was laid up for many days, and our mother beat him up for being truant. I remembered him walking in the rain drenched and happy offering me the umbrella, on our way back from school. I remembered him escorting me to the interviews and to various colleges, always protective always caring and never demanding anything. Also I remembered how he almost died of mumps which he contracted from me. He cuts a sad figure.

In the cool and serenity of the hotel room we made delicious love. It was a night which will remain etched deep in our memories. Her nubile and yielding softness clung to me for support and nourishment. Our orgasms were well deserved and gentle. We had been denying ourselves for the last many days.

Next day we were taken out for sightseeing, we visited all the landmarks of Delhi, the ancient capital that has defied thousands of dead years.

On the third day we were taken to the presidential palace. We were guided around to enjoy the fabled Mughal Gardens. In a solemn ceremony in the central hall of the palace the widow of John was honoured with the medal.

That night, back in the hotel, Rose told us that she had something to divulge. We both sat on either side of her on the cozy bed.

‘I am pregnant with his baby. On the day he came for a brief visit I had been ovulating, now I am three months into pregnancy,’ she said.

We both hugged her in ecstasy. We both ran our fingers on her belly, which had swollen a little.

‘She must be a girl,’ I hoped aloud.

‘Yes she is and I will call her Joan,’ Rose said.

She is going to be a cute baby girl who would be the slice of heaven between us. At a later stage as a dazzling young lady, probably she would make the life of another beautiful woman happy and complete.

That night we went to bed in a dreamy mood. So much had happened over a space of one month. The greatest event is that a new life is budding amidst us, offering new hopes, uniting us all in love. I kissed her fervently in the light of all the tremendous truths. She was equally passionate. Her breasts had become more rich and plumb, her nipples more succulent. The aroma of our arousal filled the room. Her nipples had become more sensitive and leathery. She climaxed while I made love to them with my mouth and hands. Her pussy was a little swollen and hot, with little bit of kissing and licking she came on my face as sweetly as ever, flooding my mouth with the sweetest juice.

Joan was destined to unite us all. We were poised to give her the best life, a life saturated with love and care. Money is no more a problem for us, we wanted to provide her with the best on earth.

My Rose’s breasts are precious to me, they are the real heaven on earth. I have to protect their shape and size. We had agreed that Rose, my wife, would breast feed Joan only for six months, another six months I will breast feed her.

Three months later we got a letter from abroad. It said that my father had passed away by kidney failure and that his huge wealth worth sixty million dollars, was to be shared between me and Rose.

We donated all the books collected by John, running into thousands, to the public library which was re-christened after him. The main road to the village was also named after him. Wherever we went people respected us and cared for us because we are the wife and sister of the nation’s hero. Government had given us many privileges and prerogatives.

Today we vis

Tomorrows remain

Aluscious

The school manager was in a good mood as always. This new academic year, which begins on the first Monday of every June, had begun. It happened to be on the third of June this year. The classes were suspended after mid day for a PTA meeting to chart out the programmes of the prospective academic year. Every year the manager would appear in the beginning of the school year to scintillate the teachers and parents with a cornucopia of promises. He seemed to  be a dream merchant, he was prone to dream aloud for the benefit of the teachers and guardians. But it does not matter anymore what he promised as a later day Don Quixote and what he failed to deliver.

The government had long ago declared the school to be uneconomic for want of students. Each class should have at least fifteen students,  that is, there must be at least sixty students up to fourth standard in the primary school tucked deep in a remote rural area bordering the virgin woods. But the manager knows, as everybody else does, that the government will never close down the school because it caters to poor and underprivileged tribal students. The powerful Syrian Christian community sends their children to high profile public schools which offer most advanced facilities. Even though the school manager himself is a Christian, he does not expect his own community to send their wards to his school. Even his own children studied in far away schools. The wretched tribal children, just thirty three of them, deign to come to the school, only because of the incentives provided by the government- free uniforms, free food, medical care and lump sum grants. As the parents were not fastidious it was easy to teach themand manage them. Academic quality was not a matter of concern. For four classes there are only three teachers, Alice the head mistress, and then Maya and myself. My name is Seena, by the way and I am a junior teacher who joined the school a couple of years ago.

The manager kept on bantering. The tribal mothers gazed at him oft blinking and wondering. We, the teachers were getting impatient to get back home. The south west monsoon had begun, it was raining almost nonstop.

‘This year we will celebrate the silver jubilee, we will bring important people including the chief minister and a film star. I have some hold in Trivandrum, I know people who know important people. It will be an event in the region. We will constitute a programme committee in due course. The leaking roof of the building will be restructured once the rains peter out.

‘And another important thing,’ he looked at us to measure our reaction. Suddenly there was some degree  of curiosity in the eyes.

‘I know that we need another teacher. The appointment has been made, she will report for duty in a day or two,’ he concluded.

A sarcastic simper spread on my lips involuntarily. The rascal has made it again. He will give the post to anybody who donates one million rupees. It is his benefit for running the school. The salary will be paid by the government and he has the prerogative of appointing the teachers at will. Now all of us had a reason to be curious about the new teacher incarnation. It is going to be a woman in any case, because no man stoops to take up this job any more.

The school is very close to my house, just five minutes’ walk up hill on a deserted concrete road. That was the very reason for my buying this post. My mother is all alone and I cannot afford to leave her behind in case I take up a high profile job far way in the chaotic cities. I prefer the silence of the villages, the sad posy of the dreaming sylvan hills where time altogether fails with all its ruthless machinations.

Next day, as it was raining we conducted the stereotyped assembly in the verandah. The brats with running noses and soaked uniforms, were struggling to confine themselves to the academic constraints. Then a taxi whirred in and a girl made her dramatic debut into our rugged world. The new teacher, Rose, stepped out of the car. Suddenly the rain stopped and the sun peeped out from the thick tufts of frowning clouds. First I saw a pair of cute sandals followed by a cream coloured saree. And then the most beautiful woman in the world emerged. She was bathed in the sun. Her face, the face of an angel that we fancy in the classical Christian theology, looked at us with a disarming smile. The entire assembly stood there petrified. Her home must be somewhere in the clouds, somewhere in the heavens. She sashayed to us like a slice of pure heaven, her face radiating a celestial hue.

The assembly was immediately dismissed and we hurried to the office room to get a closer look at her. Rose and Alice were seated across the Spartan office table after the formal introductions. Maya also engaged a seat close by but I chose to stand with a selfish motive to bathe her with my eyes from top to toe. Her thick overflowing hair looked like a tuft of cloud gleaming in the setting sun. She had perfect nose, as if chiseled out and polished, betraying her Semitic lineage. Her eyes had a profound black blue hue, like the deep oceans, like consolidated posy. And her colour- my God- she looked like a real rose, a pale rose colour she had. Just behind her sensual promising lips, a cute black mustard seed of a mole was gracefully perched. Saree, the most graceful feminine costume in the world, seemed to be glowing on her. There was a mutuality indeed, her heavenly body and the saree glorified each other. From my vantage point I got a mesmerizing view of her cleavage. There is nothing like that in the whole world. Mother Nature has never ever bothered to sculpture out such a delicious pair of sheer perfection. Those symmetrical cones of paradise were encased in snow white lace bra. A tiny gold cross was proudly settled in the heavenly valley at the bottom end of a thin gold chain. The breasts and bra were perfectly encased in a blouse matching the colour of the saree that the angel was gracefully draped in. her fingers, with rose nail polish, were thin long and pointed. Her feet were cute and small with polished mouth watering little toes. Inside my blouse, my nipples were acting funny. They tried to burn out of the confines of the bra. In my panties butterflies were fluffing and fluttering. I was magnificently aroused.

Rose was requested to proceed to the fourth standard, the senior most class. I made it a point to proceed to the adjacent class, class two. There is no partition between the classes. The school building consists of an L shaped building with an elevated platform in the middle which serves as a stage in case of meetings. This platform separates two long halls. The office room is at the tail end. From my class room I kept on furtively feasting on her back side. The creamy shadow of her bra straps was very much visible behind the fabric of the lovely blouse. The enticing cloud of silken hair delectably graced her shoulders. I was almost drooling at her behind. A pair of delicious globes swiveled inside those creamy layers of the saree. I was impossibly and incorrigibly excited, my gusset received snots and snots of  ecstatic cream. I wondered who in the world is going to have the fortune to revel in  that piece of heaven on the move. Whole day I was in a distracted mood. The students were happy that I was not a tyrant any more. I was in  my dreamy world to the last period. After the classes she smiled at us so very sweetly by way of parting and hurried back in the last bus back to the town. She had to travel a long distance, all the way to Palai, a center of Syrian Christians and high fashion.

When she was gone I suddenly felt an emptiness, as if the power supply was gone in the thick of inky night. I tried in vain to inhale the soft sweet gentle perfume of hers, even when the rose had wilted and fallen for the day. I went and sat on her chair and a gargantuan chill swept past me. Yes I was tremendously infatuated. She may never know how she is wracking the gentle heart of a village girl. With a moody mind I strolled my way down to my house, weighed down by a huge emptiness inside me.

I was anxious for the next morn to dawn. I longed to be back at school, I was not a perfunctory teacher any more. I wanted the classes to begin and once again to feast on the walking dream on earth. But she did not turn up. I was silently raging and fuming inside. May be she missed the bus. Even after the second period the emptiness she had left behind remained intact. At last I went to the headmistress and asked her what happened.

‘Oh, she had come to test the waters. She will come prepared after a day or two,’ she said off handed. That night I silently prayed for her early return. I had to see her, her mere presence would make me think that the world is beautiful and worth living. Whole day I was irritable and ill tempered. I just had to set my eyes on her once again.

She reappeared only on Friday, the last working day of the week. The bell was not yet rung, the kids were frolicking on the ground, we the teachers were huddled up in the office room. Then I heard the children suddenly going silent, they were piously acknowledging her reappearance. Unable to contain myself, I darted to the verandah, I had to see her. After all I, being only twenty six, am the only junior teacher in the school and she has every reason to gravitate towards me and strike a camaraderie, she was only twenty  five.

Our eyes met and locked. There was some kind of deeper recognition, some kind of realization- I suppose. She smiled at me and a shock of excitement shot through me.

‘Good morning,’ I accosted her.

‘Very good morning Miss,’ she echoed and her words sunk into me like a magic potion. The munificence of her eyes spoke volumes, spoke languages as old as our race. I shadowed her to the office, forgetting myself in the soft heavenly fragrance she wafted, the soft rustle of her saree was haunting, like the light flying leaves fluttering in the grass in the sweeping autumnal breeze. ‘We were waiting for you whole week, the teachers as well as the students,’ I whispered.

‘Oh God, the journey is too much and I had been toying with various options,’ she said like music.

This time she was in a pale yellow saree and matching blouse of the same colour. She looked like a flowering plant in vernal heydays.

Again I was in a wonderful mood. The world was alright again, the job was wonderful. The inner climate is piously reflected outside. I kept on feasting on her all the time. The silhouette of her costly lace bra was killing me. Standing on her right hand side I tried to get glimpses of her breasts time and again. Oh it was heaven to me. She was again in fourth standard and I had managed to be in the adjacent class. Every time I got a flash of those curvaceous wondrous mounds perched enticingly on her heavenly chest, a streak of excruciating excitement would shoot down to my pussy straight from my bust. It seemed that her nipples were perpetually erect, straining to pierce through the soft layers of the bra, blouse and handsome pleats of costly flowing saree. I was virtually straining at the leash to feel and make love to her scrumptious back side. The imperious distances of morality and social fences kept me back.

Once, when she came close enough to me while going the rounds in the class, I whispered almost inaudibly, ’Rose Miss, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever come across in my life.’

She heard me indeed and it was registered by a cute blush. She looked at me eloquently once again and said softly, ‘thank you’

During the lunch break I approached her again, only to listen to her, only to feast on her.

She said that she was the youngest child in the family, her elder sisters are settled in the US, and her only brother is running the family. She prefers the villages and pristine nature’s bounties. But the distances are a drain on her. She was seriously debating on quitting the job. I was crest fallen, I had to retain her.

‘Look Miss, don’t quit this job, you are highly educated and these backward kids need you. Would you seriously give some thought to what I have to offer as an empathetic colleague? In your place someday somebody else may come, but that new person will not be you. I and my mother stay alone in my house. There is lot of space there and we are just five minutes away from the school. We will be immensely happy and proud if you would choose to come and stay with us, you could stay there as if it were your own house. Of course our humble abode is not comparable to yours in Palai.’

‘Oh Seena Miss, I am honoured. I will discuss this fabulous offer with my parents and brother. I hope that they would agree, they are prevailing on me to leave the job’, she took my hand.

Those soft deft hands, absolutely feminine hands, they held me like a whiff of silk.  High voltage electric pulses flashed through me.

‘The school reopens on Monday, if they agree with my proposal, please come and settle at home at least on Sunday itself, the long journey in the morning will be tortuous for you,’ I said wistfully.

‘Probably today itself I will discuss this and call you, would you give me your cell phone number,’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ I told her the number in a haze and she saved it on her phone, ‘tonight I will call you if the decision is positive.’

I badly needed her number but I was too embarrassed to ask.

‘That will be wonderful and I look forward to that,’ I said furtively looking at her delicious breasts.

I was beaming with happiness. After the class, when we parted she blessed me with a redeeming smile and a caressing massage with her lovely lustrous eyes. I was thrilled like a throbbing wattle in the shooting mountain stream.

My mother is fifty and healthy, she does not look her age. She is a self made woman and a strong woman for that matter. She brought me and my brother up almost alone with her teaching job after having walked out on her husband after four years of marriage. I had an apprehension whether she would veto my proposal, imperious and impetuous she is oftimes.

‘It will be excellent dear, she will be good company for you. I was bothered that you have no friends her in our isolated village,’ she said. I could not help smiling from ear to ear. Friday night dragged on, I held my cell phone as if my life depended on that. I did not watch television, I did not write letters as I usually do on Fridays, I needed a magic to make her call me. After ten I went to bed with a lingering trepidation. I felt as though I had missed her in between my shaky fussy fingers. Then the phone rang, I was back to life.

‘Hello,’ I said softly, my body shivering with anticipation.

‘Hello could I talk to Seena Miss,’ it was a man’s sound authentic and booming.

‘Yes I am Seena,’ I said.

‘Please hold on for a minute,’ he said.

Then came the salvaging music I had been waiting for, ‘good evening Seena Miss, I am Rose.’

‘Oh thank you for the call, I have been waiting whole day for the call. I had forgotten to take your number,’ I said.

‘The decision is positive,’ she whispered.

‘Thank you I am thrilled. I was seriously afraid that I was going to miss you. You will not regret your choice, will you come and join me on Sunday afternoon?’ I confessed despite myself.

‘I hope so, and good night, have a peaceful night, see you on Sunday’

‘Thank you and good night to you,’

‘One more thing you are very beautiful,’ she laughed softly and the phone died.

Cold sweat broke out on me. My arm pits were drenched with passion. Indeed she said that I was beautiful. It is the greatest compliment I could look forward to. I was energetic again, I was brimming with enthusiasm. I sprung up from my fetus position on the bed and switched on the light. With gentle steps I move to the full length mirror. She had acknowledged that I am beautiful. I had always stayed away from boys, I have never had a fascination for them and their compliments I never needed. But it had never occurred to me that I was a potential lesbian. Such a behavioral aberration will not be tolerated by the puritanical society. Such people will have to suppress their genuine feelings and orientations and pretend to live a normal life. Probably I am a lesbian and ahead of me lay a vast and darkening mine field.

The image on the mirror was not bad. My face was gentle and handsome with a pair of vivacious eyes. The thick hair I fluffed open flowed down to my bum like a cascade. My neck was shapely and smooth. I cupped my breasts inside my translucent gown. They were luscious and fairly big- 34 C of course. Rose also must be of the same size, but hers are more shapely like Mount Fujiyama defying the vicious imperatives of gravity and time. I fondled my precious assets closing my eyes and fancied her and hers. Till date whenever I touched myself, it had been a mechanical process with no images in the mind to spice up the process. Now I have the paragon of womanhood to draw inspiration from. Anon my nipples became rubbery and bursting with excitement. I felt a tingling down there. My hands moved past my flat and small belly and proceeded to the naval region. My fingers fluffed the thick turf in between my legs, it was very wet, my juices were feeling their way down my quivering thighs. I fancied my hungry and eager hands on her private parts, I fancied my fingers entering her. My fingers entered into a syrupy warmth, my inner muscles of the vagina hugged my fingers and milked them. Within minutes I came shuddering,  flooding my fingers. I licked my fingers imagining that I was tasting her juice.

Back on my bed I reasoned that I should not rush on her and scare her away. I will have to be tactful and infinitely patient. If she revolts against my amorous advances and storms out on me, it will be almost impossible to work together as colleagues. Also the stigma of a lesbian will not be condoned by the society. No matter what your sexual orientation be, the society insists that you have to get married to the opposite sex and have children. Any deviation from this beaten pattern is looked down upon and not tolerated. Any way the next best thing is to have her under my roof and savor the pleasures of being near to her. That will suffice for the moment.

I prepared my room for her, sweeping and tidying everything. I arranged the bed for her, with fresh bed cover and pillow cover. I wondered how very fortunate those bed sheets are to have her closer to them in the days to come.  I wanted to make her stint memorable to both of us.

She knocked at my door around three o clock in the afternoon on Sunday, putting an end to my angst and anxiety. This time she was in a different outfit- in fresh blue jeans and a white shirt that hugged her sweet breasts. This time also  the mouth watering outline of her bra was visible inside, primarily because of a thin film of perspiration on her shirt. The arm pit s of her shirt had become very moist with her delicious sweat. The crotch of her jeans was sticking to her private parts and I desperately wanted to plant a passionate kiss down there, sniffing her natural fragrance. I stood at the door blinking and lost in lustful fantasies.

‘Hallo, ‘ she said tugging me back to the ground realities.

‘Oh sorry, do come in I was distracted for a moment by your beauty,’ I was flustered. She laughed beautifully. I picked up her bag and ushered her to my room.

‘If you want I can arrange a separate room for you, or you can stay with me if you like my company,’ I made a tentative suggestion desperately hoping that she would prefer my company to solitude.

She seemed to consider the prospects for a minute or two, then she smiled disarmingly and said, ‘ of course I prefer to stay with you.’

‘I hoped so, here your bed has been arranged, closer to the window so that you would get fresh air. My bed is here closer to the wall’

‘That is nice, but where is your mother?’

‘She is gone to the church for the afternoon mass. She will be back in an hour, she is anxious to meet you, the most beautiful lady in the world,’ I said. She laughed again.

I took her out to tour the house. ‘If you are into reading books, here is an ocean of books for you, you can burrow into them. You will find almost any topic under the sun in these shelves. Fiction, romance, poetry, philosophy, religion, history, science, politics, mysticism whatever,’ I boasted.

‘Whose are these books?’

‘They are stacked up by my brother. He is into books, he has been collecting books from childhood. But don’t worry, he is not here. As he did not get a teaching job in any college he joined the army. He is stationed somewhere in the border areas, three thousand kilometers away. He will come on leave only in December.’

‘But I am not into books. I would rather not disturb them. Here is an electric piano, whose is this? Do you play on them?’

‘It is my brother’s passion. He is into music. But you may play on it if you like it,’ I offered.

‘May be,’ she smiled.

‘Here in this room there is computer, television with four hundred channels and wifi facility. The broad band facility offers unlimited usage, so you could engage yourself with all these facilities,’ I said.

‘That is wonderful. This house has everything and the tranquility that only a village can offer. I am impressed,’  she said.

In the meantime she had opened a couple of buttons on her shirt. I could clearly see the buttery swell of her breasts and the erotic upper edge of her fresh and white bra. With my eyes very often gravitating to her bust, I was huffing and often stammering.

‘This shirt is very beautiful on you,’ I blurted out.

‘Do you think so,’ she looked down on her bust and blushed wonderfully. Her delicate lips twitched, they would possibly melt into a pair of lips which are fortunate enough to kiss them. I violently resisted to kneel and glue my lips on the crotch of her jeans. I was bathed in the invisible mist of her magnetic fragrance.

Then I guided her to the sit-out only to moderate my burgeoning passions. ‘sitting here you can watch the mountain river Pampa lasciviously meandering its way down slithering across the dreaming hills donned in thick and lush tropical vegetation. Across the river the woods expand deep into the eastern horizon. Sitting here you can watch the river patiently singing to you, you can watch the seasonal birds settling on the boughs and serenading for you,’ I tempted her.

‘Ah, I did not expect this much. This is the ideal milieu to sit back and paint,’ Rose said.

‘So you are a painter, that is wonderful. May be I could show you some of the paintings of my brother. They must be there in the shelf.’

‘That will be nice, what does he paint’

‘Mostly pristine nature, mysterious patterns of the clouds, the melancholy woods in the eerie dragging rain, the hollering mountain streams, the flowering tress of April, lonely birds in denuded woods- things like that.’

‘I paint flowers and butterflies and nothing else. The ecstasy of giving and taking is a haunting topic for me. I can show you some of my paintings,’ she said.

Her body language told me that she was pleased and excited. I also was excited, in a different way though.

‘Shall I take bath and fresh up before you mother turns up,’ she asked.

‘That is wonderful, come I will show you the bathroom,’ I held her hand and guided her to our room.

She bent down and opened her swollen bag to pull out a crimson gown and a huge turkey towel. My eyes immediately darted to her behind. The jeans became a strained after skin on her shapely bum, my fingers itched to fondle them and kiss them for eons together. Then she unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it off her marvelous body of perfection. Her dainty shirt softly settled on her bed. Then she unbuckled her belt, opened her jeans and pulled them down sitting on the bed. I seriously though that I was going to swoon. What a pair of breasts they are! No poet can ever describe their heavenly beauty. They were glossy smooth and shining. The perfect buttery cones wonderfully filled into the cups of her bra. They had occupied the entire cavity offered by the cups. Those cups were jealously and ecstatically embracing the loveliest pair of breasts ever created by good God. The apex of the cups was strained by the leathery nipples which were indeed erect. Unknowingly I licked my lips with a diabolic urge to lick and kiss those divine peaks. As the spiritually oriented pilgrims travel to the mountain tops for salvation and beatitude, I would rather travel to those redeeming vertices with my passionate lips, deft fingers, worshipping tongue and a devout and fervent soul. Oh God I can never in my life stray far from those pair of greatest wonders of the universe. I would rather spend the rest of my life worshipping them, paying homage to them, composing paeans to them. Suddenly I came thud to the realities when she covered herself with her large towel, wrapping and covering herself from her magical bosom to her upper thigh. I did not get a chance to steal a glance at her pantyed paradise. Then she proceeded to the bath room promising to be back very soon.

Suddenly I was promisingly alone in the room. Impulsively I grabbed her abandoned shirt, my hands were shaking with excitement. I kissed the front of her shirt, she fabric was still beaming with the memory of those fabulous mammary glands. It still had the swell of the sweet and luscious pair. The faint and heady musk of hers filled my lungs like incense. The armpits were moist. They were radiating the pure fragrance of a perfect woman, the intoxicating fragrance. I sniffed and gently licked the armpits. Slightly sweet salty flavor spread on my taste buds. My panties were flooded, my whole body was throbbing. Leaving the shirt on the bed, like a somnambulist my hands went to the jeans. First I gently kissed the outside of its crotch. A tornado was building up. Her enticing musk embraced me like a maelstrom. I had reached a point of no return. Then I buried my head inside the jeans. How can I explain the chemistry of that perfume? The perfume of the sweetest pussy in the history of human kind- no attar or perfume from the exotic land of Arabia could stand a chance to that gentle sweet fragrance of mellowed womanhood. It was not a stale or putrid smell, no chance. It was the fresh heady musk of newly blown rose. For the first time in my life I came violently, that too without touching my nipples or playing with my pussy. I had lost control over my body, it underwent violent convulsions and my underbelly had had strange spasms. I was swooning- deliciously swooning. I collapsed on the bed and trembled in the throes of a sweet death.

By the time Rose emerged from the bath room I had transferred myself to my bed. She looked at me in askance.

‘What happened?’ she asked innocently.

‘Just relaxing,’ I patched a foolish grin. A faint smell of my arousal still lingered in the room. I hoped that she may not notice. She appeared in a crimson gown in which the swell of her bust was accentuated. I will be cuming and cuming in her presence if she chooses to wear gowns like that, I inferred. I was in a dreamy world, my feet were not probably touching the ground, I was floating. Small drops of water were dripping down her mane of lovely hair. She wrapped her hair in the turkey towel and sat on her bed.

Then we heard footsteps outside. My mother was back, we both went to the entrance to receive her. My mother aged fifty is a well shaped mellowed lady with a non-nonsense attitude. She is only five feet six but she effectively throws an imperious and regal air. Even at twenty six I am afraid of her. She had been partial to me all through, I do believe that she had brutalized my brother. But that is another story.

We opened the door to receive her. Rose might have expected a savage country woman with little education. Instead she stood in front of a polished and well accomplished woman who knew what she wanted.

‘Mother this is Rose, my colleague,’ I said.

‘Oh dear, I was dying to meet you, such a young lovely lady, Seena had been singing about you all these days,’ my mother hugged Rose and planted a swift peck of a kiss on her rosy cheeks.

‘Please go to the kitchen, let us have tea. I will join you after changing into something comfortable,’ my mother said. She was in her graceful saree. I guided Rose to the kitchen. Often my body touched her mesmerizing gown, sparks of passion streaked. Her fragrance made me light headed. Mother joined us in her light blue gown with intricate white designs on it. She rolled her thick hair into a bun, bracing up to attack the utensils. I was floating on cloud nine.

‘Do you have any preferences regarding food”’ my mother asked.

‘Whatever you eat, I am not fastidious,’ she quipped politely.

‘We are almost self reliant on food. We raise finger gourds, plantains, yams, spinaches, bananas, cow pea, amaranths, papayas and may more. The vegetableson the market are all soaked in pesticides you know. We don’t even buy fish from the market. They apply formalin on fish to be sold to the infidels, I mean non-Muslims,’ mother grinned with a conspiratorial wink.

In the morning both of us were preparing to proceed to the school. I made it a point to stay close to her as much as possible. When she took her comb I offered to do her hair. Fortunately she acquiesced. She was sitting on a chair and I stood behind her. This position had a huge advantage, I could safely look down her cleavage. Her breast was in a pure white lace bra the boobs looked as if they would melt like butter in the sun. I could even get the glimpses of her areolas and nipples. They were dark red and fiercely engorged. Nipples were straining against the cups.

She seemed to be enjoying my gentle ministrations. I got to touch her hair and please her and that mattered a great deal to me. She had closed her eyes. Feasting on her breasts, I could stand there whole day, but we had to go to school, Rose seemed to be lost in a drugged trance. In the meantime I had designed her hair into a cute pony tail. I tied her hair with a rose ribbon and placed a fresh rose in the band, the same rose that I had greeted her with at the crack of dawn.

My luck did not end there, she needed help while putting on the saree, the formal costume of Kerala, our state in India. She was not used to that delicate process. She confessed that she was used to jeans and churidars. Her mother used to help her put it on at home. I arranged the pleats and the hem kneeling at her feet. I direly needed to embrace her midsection enshrouded in lovely folds of silken saree. Sitting there I stole a classic view of breasts from below. They were so strong and robust, their ample size notwithstanding. There was not a trace of sag. They were like perfect cones  of consolidated beauty. I swallowed my saliva time and again. I wondered whether I would ever get a chance to worship them.

We proceeded to the school, I shadowed her like a drooling puppy watching her swaying hips, watching her sweet face, watching that perfection on the move in a fabulous saree.

‘I am sure that you would in due course learn to love our village,’ I said.

‘Indeed I do love this village. I need this. I am slightly asthmatic, I cannot stay in the din and rabble of the cities. This lush greenery bursting with life is panacea to me. And then I am in the company of two fabulously beautiful women,’ she smiled beautifully.

‘Oh thank you, I never knew that I was beautiful,’ I said.

‘You are, you are beautiful,’ she earnestly touched my hand. I was dazed with rapture.  It was the certificate I treasured most.

At school I tried to remain close to her finding one excuse or the other. Realizing my proclivity to be near her, Rose would sweetly look at me and bless me with a smile which would bathe me like the full moon night. Her smile was an eloquent acknowledgement that I mattered to her, that she cared for me. As long as she was in the range of my vision, I was upbeat and energetic,

Usually in the afternoons we let the kids play on the ground. The teachers stay close by watching them. We both sat together on the verandah observing the students. She was still fresh as a new born rose, her fragrance was still alive.

‘How was the day?’ I asked.

‘Perfect,’ she smiled.

‘Do you enjoy this job?’

‘Indeed I do. I treasure this village atmosphere, I love these poor rugged kids and I marvel your goodwill.’

‘Do you feel at home with these savage children who look differently?’

She looked at  me quizzically.

‘They were here long before our pioneering ancestors reached here. They still follow a value system which remained intact over millennia. We have been changing, our value systems have been changing, we have been destructively interacting with our environment. They are the children of Mother Nature, on the other hand we are like hunters, we hunt our own mother. I care for the tribal communities, they are facing a grave identity crisis. In Attappady there are many hamlets where not a single adult male is left alive. All of them embraced pre mature death by self induced liver cirrhosis. All of them drown in alcohol and deadly drugs. The reason is that the greedy avaricious main stream society has shattered their self esteem, their timeless economy and sustainable means of sustenance have been shattered. Still they have not forfeited their simplicity and innocence. They represent a noble culture. I am awed by  their culture and realizations that are very reasonable. All tribal communities in the world have certain common features. They had no private property, nature was their mother. They are all based on a primitive socialism and a democracy of direct representation. Above all there is no culture in the world in which women are treated as equals except tribal societies. Aryan and Abrahamic races like ours pushed women to the obfuscated backyards. Tribals treated women as equals, nay in many communities the matriarch ruled the community. They survived across tens of thousands of years because they yielded to the flawless reason of nature. Their agricultural practice of shifting cultivation and mixed crops is now realized to be the perfect and the most scientific one. We will have to pay dearly for having shattered their mosaic of cultures and identities. Mainstream society should respect their cultural common denominator and refrain from violently pushing down our truths and rights down their vulnerable throats. It will shatter them. Once in the 19th century a certain tribal leader in NE India was hanged by the then colonial government.  He had led a revolt when the government stopped them from entering the forests, it was like separating mother and children. His last words come trundling down the centuries: we are the equally beloved children of god our nature. All of us survive in piety for nature and mutual respect – as brothers and sisters.  Pray from where did this government come?’

‘To put it in a nut shell and to express it in plain language you care for the tribal communities,’ I grinned.

‘Yes, I do,’ she whispered as though she was marrying somebody.

I was still in a dreamy drugged mood even when we reached home after the classes. She removed her saree and went to the bathroom to take a bath. I waited for my turn. I was smiling to myself, life had become a euphoria, life had become a fever for which I sought no cure. She emerged in a thin white shirt and maroon skirt which covered her down to her cute knees. Two of her buttons were open offering me a magnificent vista of those hypnotizing breasts. I proceeded to the bathroom like a seasoned thief on the sly. I was lucky, I got what I wanted. In the bucket in the corner her soiled clothes were left to be washed in the morning- her blouse, bra and panties. My whole body shuddered with excitement. I picked the delicate blouse and sniffed in the armpits and cups which embraced her bust. The warm musk was still there. My pussy was over flowing. Then I picked her bra and buried my face inside the cups. I was in heaven. I wanted nothing more and I was safe in the seclusion of the bathroom. My climactic trophy was her delicate panties. The aroma from the gusset was embracing me. I never knew that a woman’s private parts could be so delectably musky and sweet smelling. I was hooked instantly. Tentatively I tasted the moist part with a furtive gentle swipe of my tongue. Yes, I loved the magic potion. It was delicious aromatic and kinky. And I came with a bang, my nipples twitching and pussy throbbing. I collapsed on the floor huffing and gasping for breath.

Days came and went fleetingly. Months came to pass. The rainy days had given way to sunny days in between. The harvest season had come, the villages were agog with activities. I loved my life and the electric passion I had for her remained intact. I fondly dwelled on the hope that the passions would one day reach a flash point, that it would reach the critical mass resulting in a chain reaction, resulting  in the opening of the flood gates. It had to happen, she cannot remain thick and passive to the libidinous vibes for all time to come.

Separations were pernicious and murderous. During weekends she would go home to be with her parents. I would suffer like a fuming hearth. It was like a patient denied his oxygen, it was like a fluorescent lamp denied its electricity, it was like a plant denied its water. It was like a drug addict denied his daily dose of grass. I used to find my shadow of consolation putting on her used shirt kissing and sniffing her heady lingerie. I wondered how I was going to survive when one day she flies far high and away leaving no trace behind. I knew that parting is inevitable, everybody has to part one day or the other. In nature nobody is indispensable. But such calamities could wait. ‘Jesus, teach me to take one day at a time’ I hummed.

On a particular Saturday I was peevish and pining for her therapeutic presence. Having nothing else to do and as loneliness was smothering me from all sides, I sent a brief message to Rose on whatsaap.

‘I miss you.’

Instantly came the reply, ‘I too miss you and long to kiss you.’

I was thrilled and elated, life coursed through my system, ‘I am pining for your return.’

‘I am straining to join you at the earliest. You know not how much I miss you, you may never know. I have been thinking of you.’

‘That is promising, I am exhilarated that it is not a one way traffic.’

‘Yes dear Seena, you are now the center of my quaint universe.’

I was shivering like an aspen leaf, my arm pits were sweating. The said word sped arrow and gone opportunity never return. Still I took the chance, I took the tremendous risk of exposing myself:

‘I think I am in love with you,’ I wrote and hit the sent button.

‘I know dear and I am madly in love with you.’

‘But I am afraid that I love you differently, I am in love with you’

‘So am I’

‘I thought I was sick, I thought that the society will condemn me and banish me’

‘Society has no locus standii here. Loving is not a crime’

‘The electricity of love swept past me on the very day we met on third June at school for the first time,’ I confessed.

‘I know my sweet pet. You were obsessed by my breasts’

‘How the hell you know?’ I was embarrassed.

‘You were looking down my cleavage and I enjoyed the show, I hope that you loved what you saw’

‘Dirty devil, yes I became a devotee of those breasts ever after. I cannot ever stay far and away from their ambience.’

‘On the same day I often stood sideways to help you get a clear view of my breast under the saree, if you had watched closely you would have seen how erect my nipples were’

‘Are they erect all the time?’

‘Nope, only when you are looking at them, only when I am in your warm presence, you should have seen my panties at that time’

‘You were more wicked than me. I was enamored by that saree of yours. You looked like a goddess’

‘Here is another secret. I had almost given up the job on that day because of the difficulties involved. My parents do not approve of me going to such a remote and savage place. But you brought me back there’

‘Me! That is interesting.’

‘I could not ignore the love in your eyes, I wanted to return and lay claim on that.’

‘I am happy that you came back, to be my heaven’

‘Do you remember the Sunday afternoon when I came to your house to stay? I went to the bathroom primarily to masturbate?’

‘That is a woman. When you were enjoying all by yourself, I was sniffing the inside of your jeans and shirt armpits and I came violently’.

‘Oh my! Do you like my smell down there?’

‘It is sheer heaven. Almost every day I used to lick your soiled panties.’

‘That is wonderful, I will cum now reading this’

‘I am very wet and flowing’

‘It is not to be wasted, I want to lick up to the last dreg. Did you like the smell of my armpits?’

‘Very much. You have dainty velvet hair up there. It is a big turn on. I am dying to lick kiss and sniff them’

‘Oh god I am coming again.’

‘Have you ever been in love with a woman?’

‘It is a long story, I will tell you when we meet. It is love that matters, not sexual orientation. What about you?’

‘I have never been in love with anybody, man or woman. I had no liking for men. I never knew that I could love women until we met. You brought out the genii that were dormant inside me. I have pleasured myself with my hands but I have never had an orgasm. That is until I sniffed your jeans. I am a late bloomer, I suppose.’

‘That is interesting, we will make up for the lost opportunities. This day is important to me, we could open up. It would have been embarrassing to confess face to face. I wish I could come to you now by some teleportation technique.’

‘I am always with you, like the fragrance around the rose. When I am no more I will come and stay in my eternal abode and heaven- on that lovely bosom.’

‘Oh dear you are making me tipsy with love.’

‘In my dreams I have kissed your lips a thousand times, sweetly softly and with an inherent piety.’

‘Which lips?’

“Mostly the horizontal pair, the vertical pair in my orgasmic dreams.’

‘I cannot divulge my dreams on this, the phone will fulminate and explode. I will tell you one day.’

‘Shall I send you a selfie of my semi open bust?’

“Please ‘

‘With or without bra?’

‘With bra, the bra filled is very erotic on you’

‘There you are’

‘This will keep me going until we meet.’

‘Until we meet on the shining river’

‘Shall I send a selfie of my bust, I am in your white and soiled shirt, but no bra’

‘That will be wonderful’

‘Which part of my body do you love most?’

‘Your flowing hair, your nose, your lovely kissable lips, your magnetic breasts, your promising hips, your very edible garden of Eden, your limbs, your cute fingers, your love laden soul, you in toto.’

‘You are too audacious’

We remained electronically connected for the rest of the day. I became a quantum of energy on the move. I became a heaving ocean of consolidated love. I bloomed into my true self.

From early Sunday morning I began the preparations to receive my venerated beloved. Mother would go for her weekly shopping and church and hence the coast was clear for our libidinous rendezvous. I washed all the soiled clothes, including hers and took an elaborate bath to be fresh and pure enough to receive her into my arms. I decided to put on a light rose shirt and black knee long skirt with matching rose bra hooking in front. Then I applied a light perfume to be enticing to her. I was brimming with energy and love. Love had transmuted me into a new being. I fancied her 5’ 6’’ melting into my  5’ 7’’ like milk fusing into sugar, like iron joining with magnet like day melting into night. She is the Miss. Right that I have been looking for. I will never be able to take a trajectory away from her, she being the centre of my universe. She would make me full and complete. I did not take my lunch, she will be my lunch dinner and refreshment. I was willing to wait, now that our destiny is sealed.

‘I am waiting for you in trembling hope,’ I messaged.

‘I am hurrying my dearest, I am speeding to you, I am dying to hold your luscious body in my arms’ she responded immediately. She knocked on our door in the afternoon. I opened the door with some apprehension, my chest palpitating. There she stood in her cream saree, the one  in which I had seen her for the first time.

‘Oh my dear,’ we fell into each other’s arms. In an inexorable impulse I stood on my knees and kissed her hand, my eyes shining with obvious desire. She pulled me up closing the door behind us. We kissed- it was an epic of a kiss. Her hand ran through my mane of hair and the other hand was behind my back holding me closer. My body was convulsively trying to merge with hers, my breasts were kissing their lovely angelic sisters on her chest. I slightly nibbled at her soft lips, she moaned and tightly embraced me. Our tongues massaged each other and I slurped up the syrup being welled up in her sweet mouth. Her aroma enveloped me. My hands danced fervently on her back.

 ‘Let us get into the bedroom,’ she guided me in.

‘Let me remove your graceful saree, before it is crumbled,’ I whispered.

I reverently removed the clip of the tail of her saree on the shoulder. I pulled it back exposing the heavenly bust packed up in the cream coloured blouse and white bra. Then I pulled out the rest of the fabulous fabric, folded it and placed it on the headboard of the bed. I moved back a few feet to cherish the perfection of beauty exposed in front of me. The divine being I dreamed of and adored is very much in front of me palpable and tangible.

The creamy blouse went well with the creamy breasts. The bra cups could magnificently accentuate the perfect and mellowed morphology of her breasts. The valley in between beckoned with heavenly promises. Her see through underskirt showed the outline of her snow white panties. Again I knelt and planted a passionate kiss on the front of her panties through the thin underskirt. The aroma of perfect feminine filled my hyper active olfactory system. Again she frantically ran her fingers in my hair and pressed herself onto my face. I experienced her convulsing and climaxing on my face, bathed in her aroma I also came. The first one in her willing company. She guided me to the bed and together we collapsed on the bed and giggled like school girls. Her blouse was slightly wet with sweat. We lay facing each other and my hands exploring her delicate blouse.

‘I will be an eternal devotee of these breasts,’ I whispered, running my hands on the swell of the breast. She smiled sweetly and encouraged me by running her hands in my hair again.

‘I have dreamed a great deal about this heaven on earth,’ I said.

‘I have dreamed a great deal for this moment, the moment of offering these breasts to you,’ she whispered.

I nudged closer and softly kissed the underside of her chin, then her shining neck. Piously I proceeded to the sweaty valley and licked the holy water. She encouraged me with her hands. I unhooked her blouse whilst my lips composed a poem on her breast.

‘Oh dear,’ she hugged my face.

I opened her blouse and took a close look at the bra magnificently straining against the breasts. It was the most erotic sight in the world. I nuzzled against the fabric. The bra was slightly wet with perspiration. My face moved up long the soft skin. Her musk from the arm pits was intoxicating. It was a cocktail of her sweat and the gentle perfume dabbed on her. I peeled off the blouse and before discarding the fabric I kissed and sniffed the cups and armpits. Rose tried to smile but she could not as passion was torturing her.

I opened her armpit, like a child opening her present. There was a soft thin mat of velvet hair, which I snuggled against and sniffed. My panties were flooded, I gasped and strained for breath. i licked up the moisture  and she writhed.

Nobody had ever taught me how to make love to a woman, I had no idea what to do, I was just following my heart. My body was acting on its own. I proceeded to open the bra, I had been saving for that moment. Her breasts defied all imagination, they were at their morphological perfection, ripe glossy and magnetic. The areolas were deep pink and puckered with passion. Nipples were impressively erect and beckoning like twin light houses at night.

I found myself kissing sniffing and licking the sides of the breasts, my hands simultaneously caressing them. She made strange sounds encouraging me and her hands wandered on my back. Always I stopped short of touching the nipples. I was saving the most delicious part of the experience. Unable to stand the torture anymore, Rose forcefully pulled me to her nipple and placed one hand on the other nipple. It was the most intimate and ecstatic experience in my life, I was dying with happiness. She climaxed then bucking and mewling. Her climax induced another orgasm in me.

I went up to her mouth again to kiss her, to recharge myself with life from that pool of life. I had to continue my exploration. I kissed her flat taut little stomach, opened her underskirt and pulled it down, kissing every inch exposed to me. She raised her hips to facilitate the process. Her valley was beautifully drenched and aromatic. I kissed the edges of the panties, then the panties. There was a butterfly painted on the gusset. She liked butterflies. I became a butterfly and she became a flower rich with fresh pure nectar. I licked the nectar seeping out. She writhed bolted and spread her thighs. Her eyes were closed, her body had become autonomous with passion, her reason having no control over her. Taste of fresh juice was exquisite. I had been familiar with the stale juice till date. There is no nourishing herbal medicine in the world even remotely comparable to consolidated love affectionately secreted by a beautiful woman. Every drop is more precious than vintage wine.

Now I needed to gift me with the most hallowed experience in my life- opening the curtain and visiting the holiest of the holy. I pulled down her drenched panties, she cooperated semi consciously. The core of her being, the very centre of my universe, was in the middle of a mat of soft and silken blackish brown hair. I licked up the juice the turf was flooded with. She was whimpering now. My tongue reached the opening. By exploring myself I was familiar with the geography of that region and also the dynamics of passion down there. I began to feed on her, the spring of nectar flowed out for me. I licked everywhere ravenously, my soul was my guide.

Her body stiffened, then it writhed in the throes of death, she raised her hips and pressed my head to her. She was whimpering uncontrollably. Then the universe collapsed, constellations collided, tsunamis raged.  It was an earth quake which measured 9.9 on Richter scale. She lay there limp and spent, I continued to lick her and massage her gently to handhold her down to the shattered earth.

She remained in that drugged state for half an hour, before opening her cute petals of fluttering eyelids.

‘Oh god it was something. Who trained you like this,’ she asked.

‘None, I did what my love dictated,’ I confessed.

‘I have never had an orgasm like this, thank you,’ she said.

That was the greatest reward I would long for in this life.

‘But it will be long before I will be able to stand on my feet,’ she smiled sweetly.

I lay there gently and leisurely kissing and sniffing her pussy, my hands gently running over her cool soft thighs.

‘Now let me unwrap the gift god has given me,’ she pulled me up to her mouth. We kissed with an abandon. Her nimble fingers fluttered on my shirt buttons. Very expertly she removed my shirt and bra. I was shivering, her first kiss on my chest set me on a wordless cosmic dance. The moment her angel face touched my screaming nipple, I came. Her ministrations continued. By the time she reached the confines of my panties I had come four times. She pulled out the panties and licked the syrupy transparent juice from the gusset. Then she kissed my knees, inside of my knees and progressed north along my thighs making a wet trail. By the time she reached the neighborhood of my core I came with the consciousness that the most beautiful woman on earth was doing it to me, her face was between my thighs. Her tongue was delicate and confident, experienced and gifted. Her tongue spoke a language of heaven, it sang an epic of love and fulfillment. I cannot squirt the way she does. But I was profusely leaking, I guess. I felt an ocean roaring inside me. My body writhed thunderously. The agony was acute sharp true and sweet. I became a blaze, I became a dream, I was liberated from my mortal grossness. I think I made strange sounds, I think I cried. I felt myself exploding and thrown about in the cosmos as smithereens. The explosion coursed its way across the dimensionless infinity. The stars shed their rare tears of bliss. Thus I was initiated into paradise.

By the time my mother turned up we were almost back to normal. She looked sedated and entirely satiated. She glowed angelically in a post coitus sanguinity. I felt very light headed and elated. I felt like floating in the air, as if I were a spirit, a floating tuft in the whimsical breeze.

Mother was pleased to see us both happy and relaxed. She looked very mellowed and wonderful with her rich and shapely bosom and pleasant visage. When she proceeded to the kitchen with her shopping bags, seductively swaying her large hips for our lewd entertainment, we both smiled and hugged each other furtively. Every now and then we would find a consolation in embracing and kissing only to re-confirm our eternal bond. The whole night was with us and a whole eternity too to know each other, to love each other, to understand each other, to explore each other. We were not in the mood to have dinner, we were anxious to get back to the bed and renew our relaxed steamy session.

As soon as we entered the bed room we were on each other. We undressed each other in a hurry and proceeded to the bed kissing and fondling each other’s boobs. Now we are not in a ravenous anxious mood. We had time. We kissed deliciously for some time setting each other on fire. I had realized that she loved being kissed on her neck and behind her ears.

Once again my face gravitated to her. She was cooing and encouraging me with her hands. I loved it very much to sniff around and lick the delicious contours of the twin towers on her bosom. Her boobs are very sensitive to my ministrations. One of her nipples slithered and bolted in my mouth and the other one in my greedy fingers. She was softly gasping. I was amusing that I could make her cum just by pampering her bust.

‘I cannot think of staying away from these perfect breasts of yours’, I whispered.

‘I will tell you who sculptured and nurtured them to this shape and size,’ she responded. She was very gentle, very relaxed and lascivious. She was like a sedated and fully satiated cat. She was almost purring.

I kissed her breast in assent. Her thigh came over my hip and held me close, her hand was softly massaging my back, my buttocks and hair, taking time. It was talking time.

‘I am not a congenital lesbian. I was induced into this rarified realm by a wonderful woman. I suppose that almost every woman carries a lurking lesbian in her. Only few are initiated into it. Those who are handheld into it never look back. They will never need a man. I stand in that stage. But I do not hate men, I am just indifferent. In my teenage I secretly craved boys. But I had no relation with them. I knew that when the time is up  my parents will choose the right boy for me.

When I went to college, suddenly I was freed from the domineering umbrella of my parents. I felt liberated. It was a women’s college. There was no chance of meeting boys. Prof. Anne took particular interest in me. She was very supportive and caring. She was almost like a big sister to me, my mentor my patroness and my refuge. She was thirty at that time and I was only seventeen. I had absolute trust in her. Her husband was staying abroad as a scientist. She was almost alone, with her two small kids and her aged mother. One day she suggested that I could stay with her and give her company and in return she could supervise my academic progress more effectively. In fact I was not happy with the hostel environment and my parents promptly approved of that proposal. Thus I became an inmate of her lovely house.

Whenever she was pleased with me or happy with me she used to hug me and cradle my face in her fragrant and soft bosom. I loved it, it was exhilarating. At times I even craved for that intimate experience. Once when she embraced me in my room, for some reason beyond my comprehension I brought up my right hand and cupped her breast. A mischievous smile appeared on her face and she ran her hand on mine quite encouragingly. I was thrilled.

‘Do you like it?’ she asked with a conspiratorial grin. I nodded.

She opened her blouse and offered a nipple to my hungry mouth. I think she came like that. That evening she invited me to her bed.  We slept together ever after and she converted me for good. An ordinary girl gets her first sexual experience after marriage which is in her late twenties. I have had my regular orgasm since I was seventeen. At that time I had only two promising buds for breasts. She nourished them, gently massaged them, pleased them, prompted them, worshipped them pleasured them and induced them to perfection over a period of five years. Even after MA we continued our secret relationship whilst I joined for TTC in the institution nearby. So what you enjoy now is the fruit of the dedicated and religiously fruitful endeavors of an honest devotee-Prof. Anne.’

‘Do you still meet her,’ I asked with a tinge of envy.

‘No, she has taken in another young and nubile protégé, I was shocked and I almost mutinied. Then plain reason told me that I had to move on, I cannot remain stuck there with my emotional baggage. She was not my destination, she was only a way side refuge. You are the destination, you are the final sanctum.’

‘I am a congenital lesbian,’ I declared proudly, ‘You opened my eyes.’

‘Oh dear, humanity is undergoing a positive evolution, it is brazenly contravening the basic precepts of thermodynamics and entropy. We are getting more suave and refined, we are fine tuning our libidinal sophistication. Mating is not any more the process of the most powerful among the male species hunting down and violating the female in heat. It is not any more the process of the narcissist of a cock bird mounting the hen and proudly marching off. Women do not appreciate violent and bragging haughty males any more. They demand a gentle and refined approach from the male, respecting her, worshipping her and praying for the pleasures she is endowed with. In this case males cannot compete with females, because females do it much better to each other. Only the obscurantist social conditioning, like the dog of Pavlov, that keeps us from pleasuring each other and erroneously take it to be the impatient and bungling prerogative of the male species.’

‘I don’t know how we are going to survive in this puritanical society. Hope that god will find a way. As Santayana put it, when we intensely desire something the entire universe conspires to make it happen.’

‘Of course we should pray to God, She will show the way,’ Rose whispered. I passionately kissed her cleavage. Rain was humming a sonorous lullaby outside. The night was cool and wet, we were hot and wet. I got a little adventurous and moved south. I kissed and tickled her belly button through the shirt. Then I kissed her underbelly and pussy through the skirt. Her heady aroma was purifying the room. I filled my alveolar cavities with the heavenly perfume.

‘I am addicted to this aroma,’ I whispered. She encouraged me with her hands snaking on my head.

I rolled up her skirt and with my lips provoked goose bumps on her cool white thighs. She opened her thighs acquiescingly. I was making love to her long and lovely limbs. On many an occasion I had thirsted for her toes and petite rosy feet. I was gravitating in that direction. I was only following my heart as I had no prior experience in sex play. Like the new born cub feeling its way to the dam’s udder I was acting out on a software installed in me by the absolute feminine that orchestrated this symphony of life on mother earth.

My drooling lips had in the meantime reached her shin, ankles and then her sole where my sole soul of happiness lay. Rose was mewing and writhing. Her toes slithered in anticipation. When my lips touched her toes, she gasped, the circuit was completed, sparks flew. I washed her toes with my syrupy saliva. Her hips bucked in sweeping paroxysms.  My mind was soaring to exalted plains of pure unadulterated bliss. Her whole body shuddered and she came with a gusto. It took a few minutes for her to ascend to the ground. Then, spreading on the bed, she shimmied the panties down and shucked the skirt down in a sweep. I was invited to her sweet wet land, which was saturated with her aromatic syrup. My tongue roamed about in the soft turf reveling in the liquid manna it was strewn with. Once the lush meadow was expunged I turned to the pool of pleasures. My tongue was stiffened and it stole its way into the depths of heaven twirling and caressing the walls.  I sucked deep for more honey. This intimate feeding process ended up in a violent orgasm, she flung out her legs screamed an alien language jerked up her pussy and in violent paroxysms squirted into my earnest mouth sweet gentle shots of rare nectar.

She was exhausted and lethargic. Rose pulled me up and promised to return the favour once she was recouped. It was a pleasure servicing her, worshipping her beauty, nothing more I wanted. I closed my eyes with my lips pressed to the side of her breast and one hand cupping the other breast. Happy to the core and drained, we slipped into a sweet slumber again the timeless pathos of the rains of June, and then into a dreamless inky sleep in the unfathomed depths of monsoonal night. It was heaven up above the realms of carnal pleasures, it was heaven built of love pure and unconditional.

In the morning we did our ablutions together. Life was a euphoria and a forgetting of all the absurdities in life. We helped each other in putting on the saree and in applying cosmetics. We combed each other’s hair. I tucked in a fresh red rose on her beautiful hair. I was overwhelmed by her dazzling beauty. Awestruck I embraced her and kissed her in the mouth. To brace up for the rest of the day I sucked up the sweet nectar from her delicious mouth.

‘My fulfillment, my happiness, my nirvana, my succor – it is you,’ I said.

On the way to school we would time and gain hold our hands, it was a reassurance that we are one for e rest of our lives. I was gloving like a bride, so was she. At school we would cast glance at each other very often and her eyes told volumes to me. She would look at me turning her face, through the corner of her bewitching eyes. It had a twitching sweetness which would straight dart to the core of my pussy. During the class hours our sexual tension was building up. I would scald her luscious sweating boy with my lust laden eyes, so would she. I was in dire need of making love to those wondrous breasts. The awareness that I am wearing the panties that used to hug her honey comb of a pussy was telling on me. Also my breasts were covered by the same lucky bra that used to hug hers. In the afternoon, while the kids were frolicking on the ground Rose retreated to the toilet and came back after a few minutes with a funny grin on her angelic face super charged with love. She came straight to me and put her index finger into my mouth. Suddenly a regaled flavor and an intoxicating aroma spread in my mouth. She had scooped up the love secreted for me in her pussy. I was giddy with happiness. My pussy also was saturated, but I did not have the candor to give her a treat the same way. Then she sat on a chair in front of me, slightly moving the front of her saree to offer me an excruciatingly savory profile of her heavenly breast. From the top of her blouse I could see the globular outline of her priceless asset.

‘I am very much indebted to Prof. Anne,’ I quipped.

‘What for?’

‘For ardently bringing up this pair for my pleasure and happiness.’

She laughed like ringing bells, her lips screamed for my lips and her beautiful eyes sand a song never heard by humanity. There were tiny beads of sweat in the heavenly valley between her breasts. I licked my lips looking at the valley, she laughed again.

‘Wait dear, it is all yours,’ she laughed again. I wanted to pounce on her like a panther.

‘I am going to eat you raw the moment we hit home,’ I threatened.

‘We will see who is going to eat whom,’ she grinned. The sexual tension had reached a flash point, both of us were in an inflammable stage, only a spark was enough to result in a conflagration. After school we rushed home, there was no time for sweet talk, love was bursting at the seams.

No sooner we entered the room than we were at each other. The front of the saree was on the floor. We were assaulting each other’s mouth ravenously. Our hands were fondling the breasts. I wanted to suck on her breasts, she also wanted the same. The million dollar question was who will do whose first. The urge was so strong that our entire life depended on that, the future of the world depended on that. Even while kissing we were unhooking the blouses. Maddened and blinded by passion we were fumbling on each other’s chest. In a flash we saw my other at the door. In our mad passions we had forgotten to close the door. There was a lightening surprise in the eyes of my mother. She was petrified for a moment, then she tactfully retreated back to her room. All our passions drained away in an instant, our nipples became soft and humble.

A furious chill swept past me. We had made a bold and brazen statement to her, my mother who is an uncompromising disciplinarian. She is a no nonsense woman. She will not condone this wanton demeanor from her pet child. I was embarrassed and ashamed, Rose looked pale and shattered,  as if she had sighted an apparition. So early our dreams have been shattered, our cute little world has been pillaged. We could be dismissed from the school if we are exposed. She could disown me, the church could disown me. I expected a cataclysm.

‘No matter what happens, we will stay together to the last,’ she whispered in my ear.

‘We will,’ I concurred holding her frail hand.

Life has to go on, we had to face the frowning gorgons of reality, we have to face her before she barges in with her retribution. We took bath, separately this time as we have been summarily sobered like a drunkard falling in front of the police.

‘Let me go and meet her and face the music, I will not let you down, we will go together if needs be,’ I offered.

‘No dear Seena, I will go and explain. It was my fault. I was taking advantage of her kindness and hospitality. I will offer to go, I will resign the job. I have connections to find a teaching post in north India. You could join me there once the dust is settled,’ she offered.

‘No chance, we will be together. Let us go and meet her come what may,’ I had braced up for the inevitable.

I was shivering inside my foolhardy air notwithstanding. Together we marched to the meet her in her den. She was not there, then we went to the kitchen. It was now or never. She was making tea on the stove.

‘Welcome love birds,’ she smiled brilliantly. We both were shocked.

‘I am happy that my daughter has found her Miss. Right. She is so lucky, this is what I wanted in my times. I was not bold and forthcoming at that time. I married a louse of a man for a husband and bungled up my life. Seena is also my way, this runs in the family. Rose is the best woman a girl could aspire for as a life mate. This is what I missed altogether in my life and this is the only regret in my life. I never came across a female soul mate with whom I could share my life sorrows, comforts, pleasures, worries, soul, everything.’

We couldn’t believe her words. Our eyes welled up. I was really expecting an Armageddon, the very end of the world. The tornado we counted on proved to be an easy fleecy breeze, the tsunami we had bolstered up for had turned out to be a tickling ripple.

‘Thank you mother,’ I almost sobbed. Rose was coming back to life.

‘You together make the best pair in the world. You together will put the best garden in the world to shame. You are the spring of god given life, She will bless you,’ that was benediction enough for us.

‘Now come here girls,’ she commanded. Then she made us embrace each other and kiss.

‘May your days be fraught with hopes dreams and love.’

Thereafter there was no looking back. We were on our own, we were a compact elite club in which there was no space for anybody. Ours was a nest perched high in the heavens where angels hobnob, where God takes out long walks in Her blushing evenings, where exotic dreaming flowers of bottomless love bloom.

Rose did not go home to her parents on that week end. We were inseparable, our passing touches passed electricity of love and understanding. Our life was rhythmic like a song. We shared each other’s used bra and panties. After having used by both of us only we washed them, this underscored our intimacy and spell on each other.

On Saturday we took over the kitchen, mother was allowed to take rest. I wanted to make something special for the day. Both of us would kiss fondle and hold each other whilst engrossed in our culinary experiments. Lunch was almost ready by mid day. I needed a break, hence I dragged Rose to our bed room. We kissed and I fondled her marvelous pair of breasts. I kissed behind her ear lobes, down under her chin and I proceeded to lick the moisture settled in her electrifying cleavage. She shivered and gasped. I lifted her gown and dived in to claim my reward long due to me. She lifted on leg and placed it on the bed to facilitate my intrusion. My anxious tongue propelled her to a cliff of passion. Immediately I brought up the glass bowl I had secretly brought with me. When she blessed me with the sweet white squirt  of nectar I collected it into the bowl. First quantum was followed by three more copious spouts, then the flow subsided into two or three lesser squirts. Her spasms slowly died down. When I emerged with my booty in the bowl, she was still standing there eyes closed and glowing in the ex tempore orgasm. I had collected almost 50 ml of nectar from my darling. I prompted her to recline on the bed and recuperate. She was miserable panting. I kissed her breasts and asked her to take rest.

With a wicked grin I rushed to the kitchen. I added sliced banana fruits, pineapple, sugar syrup and vanilla flavour to the nectar my love had excreted for us. Lunch was ready. I arranged the curries, pickles, curd and salad abound the bowl of rice and invited all of them.

After lunch we turned to the salad. My darling immediately understood the recipe. She blushed beet red and looked at me. She kept her face bent. Mother took her first sip and looked at me. It had an exotic taste, an enticing taste, the true taste of my beloved. Mother laughed aloud, she understood, I  suppose.

‘The tastiest salad I ever had,’ she declared.

‘Don’t share the recipe, it will remain a jealously guarded secret among us,’ she continued.

‘We will make more of this,’ I offered.

Rose was terribly embarrassed.

‘Don’t be shy my pet,’ mother consoled her, ‘I never knew that you taste so sweet. My daughter is lucky.’  Rose smiled peevishly, abashed and demure. It added to her natural charm, brazenly I kissed her.

That night we celebrated our happiness making love to each other with a patient dedication. Then we eased into each other’s arms to sleep. My face was as usual, glued to the contour of her breast, my hand on the other breast.

‘Darling,’ she whispered.

‘What angel?’ I kissed her nipple.

‘It is news that mother likes girls.’

‘It is interesting indeed. Poor girl she missed it all. She had never told us her story. The very mention of my father infuriates her.’

‘She has long since been secretly looking at my breasts. I think she is attracted to me. Till today I had assumed that it was an innocent curiosity. Now I know that she is attracted to me.’

‘What will you do about it?’

“ I don’t know. You are and you alone are my priority. Nothing else matters. If she ever makes a move I may not revolt or storm out on her. I know how much she is sexually frustrated. That is if you are not hurt.’

‘I want you to be mine now and forever. I cannot share you, not even with god. I know that She will be infatuated the moment She sets Her eyes on you. ‘

Rose giggled and held me to her breast. We were silent for some time.

‘But then it will be a strategically wise move to have her way with you, then we will have her on our side in case something happens in future. She will furiously rally behind us and that will be a solid investment. It must be done, if at all,  behind my back. I will act dumb,’ I said. She patted me and we faded into delicious slumber.

A few weeks later I had to go to the DDE’s office with the head mistress. Rose had to go back home alone as it was holiday in the afternoon. Mother was ironing our clothes. Rose joined her in support. Mother was on Rose’s newly washed blouse which was thin and delicate.

‘Your blouse is so delicate and it becomes of you,’ mother inferred pressing the material.

‘You have such a wonderful pair, so shapely and beautiful as if a gifted sculptor had worked them out.’

‘Thank you mother,’ she said quite ashamed.

‘It is just between us, can I have a look,’ mother asked.

Before Rose could react mother gently removed the front of the saree, like unveiling a classic work of art.

‘Oh God,’ mother stood there transfixed, ‘my daughter is really fortunate to enjoy these.’ She gently ran her fingers on the bulge of the blouse.

‘Oh mother’ Rose leaned to my mother’s ample bosom.

‘There my child,’ mother opened the buttons of her gown and pressed Rose’s face to her 34D. Rose nibbled and kissed those slippery slopes. Mother guided them both to the bed close by and offered her puffy nipple to the young delicate crimson lips. If I heard is correct mother came then and there. It took a few minutes for her to recover from the hurried orgasm.

‘Now let me worship this goddess,’ mother meticulously unhooked and opened Rose’s blouse. She removed the blouse and bra with utmost care taking care not to hurt that pure feminine poetry. For the next one hour or so my mother had been fondling kissing and making love to those breasts that I treasure most in the world. Rose climaxed many times during the course.

Mother then opened Rose’s saree and shucked down her under skirt. Rose’s panties were drenched and fuming. Rose helped her to shimmy down the panties wet and sticking to her pussy.

‘Oh dear I have waited a lifetime  to taste this, to experience this. I had access to this pleasure trove only in my most hallowed dreams,’ mother, like a fervent and awestricken devotee kissed the folds. She lapped up every drop oozed out from the spring in the Garden of Eden. Then came the earth quake and the tsunami. Mother was rewarded with copious squirts of life saving sweet potion.

‘Thank you so much dear for obliging an old lonely woman,’ mother’s eyes were running over with happiness and gratitude.

“Thank you mother for being so kind and loving,’ they kissed for long and slept in each other’s arms.

Thereafter mother has been making love to her once to twice in a month and I acted dumb. I did not care as long as Rose was mine.

Time was flying. We lived in eternal ecstatic present. But I knew that nothing was forever. Nothing good will last forever. Rose’s parents have some traditional responsibilities. Their duty is to find a decent job for their child after her education and then a suitable boy also.  Naturally they will be looking for a boy on the matrimonial columns or among their friends. It poses a mortal threat. They will not be amused by her orientation and abnormal preferences. Perhaps her brother will understand. Something had to be done before it is too late. I thought of the tribal African method. When wild forest fire comes aggressively blazing, they set fire to the grass around the house. Fires kill each other. The possible preemptive strike is to arrange a marriage for her here. The right candidate for the same is indeed John, my brother.

I patted myself for my shrewd design. I hoped that mother and Rose would buy my dream, they had to. There is no other way. Rose was stunned, she blinked at me. I convinced her that it was the only way to integrate her into the family for all time to come. My brother will be here only for a few weeks during his annual leave. For the rest of the year the theatre will be entirely our own. She will have to tolerate him and his advances for a few days. Rose’s parents will be happy with this proposal as her job will not be compromised. My mother, after some serous soul searching, approved of the suggestion.

Gentle winter days of early November were laying their soft mantle of gossamer on the blades of grass  in meadows of the river. Life was spilling out of land and  river. The trees were full of fruits and the region was active with harvesting and charms of life. In December John was to come on  annual leave. Mother told him over the phone that a marriage was being arranged for him. The girl was a teacher from the local school who is very good looking and well behaved.

For an arranged marriage there is a wonted traditional procedure fine tuned across the centuries. The procedure began when John turned up in December. When somebody comes home on leave he brings sweets eatables and dress for the family members. But my brother’s bags will be pregnant with books. Books that he collected during his travels. On the first page of each book he would enter the place and date and a sentence to reveal his mood o f the day. It is fun reading his entries on thousands of books accumulated over the years.

‘Inky night drags on, I wait in trembling hope’

‘The nightingale also slept finishing a lullaby to herself’

‘The town heaves, peeved by the worms wiggling in its soft underbelly’

‘Winter comes to the snow clad hills, and I enter a new phase o f life’

‘What is this life except an impotent longing?’

‘I trudge past the towns and villages dragging my dreams behind me’

‘The star studded heavens loves me, this puny little me’

I could take my time reading it all. Now there are other exigent things to be attended to.

First step towards the marriage is the visit of the boy to the girl’s house with his close people. All three of us went to Rose’s house in Palai. Hers was a big and aristocratic family, very well to do. Her parents are brother were very polished and kind. John was allowed to meet rose privately in a room to talk each other  out. It is certain that John would like her, no man can resist her pristine beauty. She also will find him charming enough with his 6’ 2’’ height, handsome face and gentle nature. Things were working out according to our script.

‘I am in the army where death walks with us, breathes with us and shadows us with a mysterious smile,’ he said.

‘do you like war and political high drama part and parcel to it,’ she asked.

‘Well there is no room for liking or disliking. War is a cultural imperative. It brings out the best in man and the worst in man. It sets the pace of the long march of civilization. But if you ask me, I am not warlike, I take my kinky pleasure in my defeats.’

‘Do you love your job?’

‘I had no choice. I could not be what I wanted to be. We fight Islamic terror with state sponsored terror. After another seven years I will opt for voluntary retirement with full pension. Then my life will be my own. Then I could settle down with my books, writing and cultural activities.’

Both the boy and girl expressed their approval of each other. Next stage was haggling- haggling for dowry. But in our case dowry was not a critical parameter.

‘You give her what you willingly want to give her, it is irrelevant for us,’ mother declared. That was a clever move, her parents liked it.

As his leave was only for a month, the process had to be hurried. Engagement, which is to be at the bride’s parish church, was fixed on the very next Monday. I took the liberty of choosing the saree of my beloved- cream coloured silk saree. The function was simple and elegant. After the function I took her to her bedroom and we kissed passionately. She even let me fondle her breasts even though she was tensed.

The subsequent stage was the one week long consoling class at the diocese without which the marriage cannot be consummated. The wedding shopping was the exciting stage of the process. All of us three met Rose and her people at Kottayam for the shopping. Mother and I renewed some of our jewelry. I and Rose chose the ornaments we aspired to have on her on the day of wedding. We hung together often touching and brushing. We stole few touches on each other’s breasts and giggled. I told John that I would buy the thali (managal suthra-the gold necklace to be tied around the neck of the bride during the wedding ceremony, which has to be there for the rest of her life) for him. it was my secret pleasure to pay for it. After a fabulous lunch at a high class hotel we proceeded to the cloth shop. The bride’s team has to buy the wedding dress of the groom and vice versa. Her also I was assertive and bought the wedding dress of the bride on behalf of John. My simpleton brother knows not anything about the drama behind. Both parties parted in the evening, I painfully parted with her with a hug. Our eyes told us everything.

Wedding took place in our parish church. It was a fairly big gathering. The climax of the ceremony is the priest blessing the saree (bought by me) and the groom tying the knot around her neck with the thali on. It is the time when many grooms fumble and bungle in the zenith of their nervousness. Hence sisters often come helping. I took advantage of this possibility and myself tied the knot with him playing the second fiddle. It was followed by putting the blessed saree on her shoulders by the groom. To keep the saree from falling usually the groom’s sister takes it. By way of helping I put the saree on her shoulder and collected it with him supporting the process. It is the saree the bride has to take with her to the grave at last.

After the wedding, before the photo session begins the bride had to change over to the blessed saree and blouse. I went with her to the changing room. We kissed passionately, the first kiss after the ceremony. She was bursting with passion. We embraced and remained locked in kiss of many minutes. Then I undressed her, kissing and fondling her breasts as much as possible. In the heat of the moment I came, so did she.  I hooked up the blouse and helped her put on the blessed saree which I had vicariously bought on behalf of my poor brother.

Mother and I officially welcomed her to the house as a member, as an integral part of our family. She entered the house holding a traditional lamp and putting the right foot first in the house. Te first night has to be spent at the brides place. By evening the motorcade took off to Palai. I was shattered, I was handing away my precious girl to a man. He was going to ravage her with the permission of the society and family. He will maul her priceless breasts and sacrilegiously molest the paradise between her legs. I felt helpless. Whole night I remained worried and fulminating, worried and simmering. He would penetrate her holy hole that oozes shear honey. He will be like an elephant in the cane field- a blasphemous vandal.

At night I talked to her only to consol her about the impeding calamity. Early in the morning again I called her unable to stand my angst. She assured me that it was not painful, he was gentle and considerate. Also my fingers had prepared her over the months to receive him.  Still I was worried, I could not bear the prospect of my girl in the arms of a man.

The rest of their days were spent on travelling, visiting friends and relatives. I could have accompanied them, but I found it unbearable. I was back to normal only when he went back to his army camp in Kashmir. Things were back to normal, we loved each other with increased passion. But other problems followed. He was distracting her with his unending phone calls and messages. As if he had telepathic faculties, He would call in the middle of our love making. I detested it and hated him with all my heart. She promised me that her mind was shut out to him and that it was I who mattered in her life. Still I found her moody and lost in thought very often. I wondered in anguish who was going to save us from him.

His messages were super charged with love and longing. Sometimes they were full of sorrows, sorrows of separation, sometimes they dwelled on hopes of being together. He loomed large over our otherwise serene life. At times he pined over her indifference. He surmised that she was cold to him, that the chemistry of love did not exist between them. Sometimes he was beaming with optimism, he was dwelling on a life together after his retirement.

Life still pulled on. My girl was indeed struggling to balance her life between her melancholy husband and monopolizing wife. It was a preposterous tight rope walk. I cannot trade her for the whole world, I had to have her all to myself, in this world and also in the world to come.

It was another November, just one month away from his annual leave. We were at school, engaging the students, it was hardly two in the afternoon. Suddenly John appeared at school in a taxi. He was in his military uniform. He stormed into her classroom and guided her out. I was surprised. I found them both going down to our house. Though I was all curiosity I did not intervene as he obviously did not seek my company. My only consolation was that my mother must be at  home. He may not bother to violate her in broad day light.

But it was a different story. He had come accompanying a the body of a soldier ambushed and killed by the terrorists. He had to hurry back as he was on duty. He had stolen a few minutes to meet her. He had other designs too. He ushered her into the bed room and kissed her. He promised that next time he would make love to her as per the romantic script he had in his dreams. Without any preliminaries he rolled up her saree and pulled down her panties. She did not resist, his passion was inexorable. Surprisingly she was very wet, he came after a few strokes.

“Sorry for the rush, I will learn how to serve you. Can I have these panties,’ he asked.

“All right,’ she said reluctantly.

‘Can I have this bra too,’ he asked fondling her breast.

‘Please John, I must go back to school and mother is around,’ she pleaded.

He went to mother’s room, exchanged few words and was gone. I was seething with fury when I heard it. He did violate her, the brute of a bastard. Mother also was outraged.

‘We will break him dear, we will teach him how to treat a lady, how to worship and pay homage to somebody superior to him. Woman is not a sex object, she is a superior individual, more civilized, cultured and peaceful. He will not have his way with him. He will have to part with his male chauvinist pride to get anywhere near to his gem of a bride. He will never ravage her, not under my roof. If he deserves his woman he must be sensible enough to her sensualities, sensitivities and sensibilities, his devotion ahs to be complete and unconditional.’

After her marriage, Rose had been barricading herself from the amorous advances of mother. She never offered her a chance to make love to her. But Rose and I were as warm as ever, inseparable and intimate. So much so that our periods were also synchronized. Our dreams and ambitions were all identical.

His prospective annual leave in December hung over us as a frowning wraith. It was a necessary evil. I had no means to avert it or to assuage the consequences thereof. We continued to make love with a timeless cadence. Our bodies knew each other, their needs too. But I hated and dreaded December.

In December, defying my prayers he turned up. This time he came with bundles of clothes and sweets in addition to his regular load of books. Somebody had apparently enlightened him how to go home. But his delicacies were cheap and worthless. And the dresses he had chosen for her were useless. They were meant for the hussies on the streets. He had no taste. He doesn’t know that the best woman in the world deserves the best of everything. In fact I had been giving her the best in the world, let it be lingerie or dress- and we are sharing them. I told her that we could donate the trash and rags to the charity when he is gone.

‘I have brought high quality liquor from the army depot, tonight we will straight go to heaven and stay there till morning,’ he whispered in her ear. I sniffed danger.

After dinner he seemed to be impatient to take her to his bedroom. But mother intervened.

‘If you want to have your girl, you should deserve her. I cannot let you hack her in my house. You stand on your knees, kiss her feet and then kiss her hands. After that beg of her to bless you with her company,’ she commanded.

She is a small woman, at least in front of him. It was like a puny mahout bullying and controlling a tusker. But I know my brother, he dreaded her, she had always been a tyrant to him. He was jolted. He stood there shocked by the ambush.

‘I will do as you commanded, when I am ready for that,’ he muttered and walked out with his dignity intact. Rose accompanied me to our room. She was frightened, she buried her face in my breasts and suppressed a sob. She feared that he would barge in any time and let loose a storm in the house.

‘I know my brother, he will not disturb us. He is not a go getter. He gives away everything, even his own life.’ I told her with confidence. Night dragged on. We heard music, he was playing on the electric piano. He was playing melancholy gazals which disturb our soul.

I have come to your town as a faceless traveler, I looked for your house whole day, now the night is come and I have no place…’

‘Oh sorrows, if you also abandon me at this stage of life, what else I have as my own?..’

‘On this moonlit night where shall I look for thee, where?..’

‘Only for you I have weaved a dream of seven colours, only for you..’

A strange moisture was settling in our souls. Who on earth could be thick to gazals? Somewhere deep at night the music died away. The nightingale also stopped warbling. It was silence everywhere. Then a rare drizzle rattled on the roof, water trickled down the gutters like tear drops. She hugged me forcefully as if trying to escape from a troll. I soothed her patting and massaging her backbone.

In the morning we had no idea how to face him. I felt that mother should not have denigrated him that much. But she had a case, I suppose.

He did not emerge from the house as usual. He is a early riser. By mid day I crept into his room. There was no trace o f him, he had vanished. But he had left behind a message.

‘I suppose that you are all party to the absurdity staged yesterday. Hence I address this all of you three. Love cannot be exacted at gun point. Love is an exquisite sacrifice and a sweet pain which cannot be presided over by a grim faced tyrant. I am what I am and I will not demand what is not willingly yielded to me. Life is a sad shadow show of ignorance. I question nothing demand nothing and expect nothing.

There is no gender difference in suffering. Man is not superior, nor is woman. Both are complimentary. Man is his will, so is woman. If they are united it has to be on mutual respect love and understanding. Nobody is a paragon of virtues. We are the mix of both weaknesses and strengths.

Today in the lingering silence of a wet and morose night, I plan to go out on a long and aimless journey. I will travel among unknown men and women, I will sleep on the pavements, railway stations and deserted temples. I will stalk with the flux of Indian life, sadly poetic and settled into a rhythm in the chaotic social cacophony.

I came to you with a cornucopia of dainty dreams. Now those dreams lay profaned and shattered. When our dreams die, we die. When our hopes die we follow. When our love goes unanswered we speak an alien language. But when we are bereft of dreams all worries are ended. Indeed I am an alien here. A sitting duck left to the machinations of time and fate.

 I promise to remain  in touch.’

He had left behind a vacuum. Rose sent an SMS wishing him safe journey. Mother was menacingly silent. We dreaded her. He kept on sending messages to her as to where he reached what he experienced and what he observed.

One month passed like that, he was not coming back before joining for duty. The news was welcome to me at the same time painful too. Mother was again furious. She called him on the phone.

‘I am your mother, I command that you should come here before you go back to your army camp.’

‘Mother you brought me to this world, you were a domineering presence in my life. Many things in life I was denied. many facets of life I never had access to. But at this stage I cannot come back and report at your doorstep. People have priorities. I have my own priorities. And coming to you is not my priority now.’ He hung up. He hung up on her. That was mortal sin. She had never tolerated even an iota of disobedience in him.

Mother banged her phone. We were frightened. On her table she had kept the photographs of mine, Rose’s and his. She pulled out his photo, tore it into two and then burnt it in the flame of the lighter. We were shocked.

‘The one who defies me is not my own,’ she muttered.

He continued to send messages to her and talked to her on the phone for long periods of time. He used to share his aspirations apprehensions and worries. Also he offered her many promises, like visiting places, like having a home of their own, like having children. I wondered when I would have her all to myself insulated from all those emotional dead weight.

The last message from him to Rose had a curious tone. He said that he would follow Jesus Christ if she is altogether incapable of loving him, the man who stood on the side of sorrow. The one who never gathered an army, who never had been to the corridors of power, who was on the side of sinners wretches and the scum of the society, the meek one who never built empires and monarchies, the one who spread the message of forgiving and sharing,. He marched with a regal will on the path of suffering and took all the suffering with him. He himself would cross the frontiers of suffering to be on the side of Christ.

Then for  a few days we had no news of him. The silence was broken by a phone call from the army head quarters. It announced that the chief of staff was going to speak to Rose. His grave booming sound informed her that John had attained martyrdom fighting the terrorists. That the Indian defense forces are proud of him, that the country was proud o f him. Shortly the news appeared on TV. John Akkara, son of Anna Akkara had laid down his life while fighting. The Islamic terrorists were holding two hundred students in a girls’ school as hostages.  John had single handedly stormed into the terrorists and killed all the seven of them and not a single student was hurt. But in the process he lost his life.

Phone calls started pouring in. the chief minister, union defense minister, governor, MPs and many other dignitaries called. Next day the village was flooded with media men and strangers. Local TV channels and dailies were full of him. His body was flown down to Trivandrum and was placed in the town hall. Thousands thronged on the long journey of the cortege to our village. When the body reached home the whole village was taken over by strangers. Uniformed military personnel managed everything. His body was covered in the national flag. But his face was not visible, it had apparently been disfigured by the gun shots. All of us were in a shocked stupor. Mother said nothing, she stayed to herself, composed though.

The government of Kerala, and government of India offered one million rupees each for the bereaved family of the hero. Many other benefits followed.

I was trying to get some sleep after many sleepless nights. Then I saw a curious figure, he looked exactly like John. Tall and refined, aquiline nose and salt and pepper beard, then it struck me, in front of the coffin stood my biological father. I understood why my mother hated John, John was a true copy of his father. My father, my mother’s bete noir. Mother’s face turned red with rage.

‘Ask him to get out before I hit him,’ she hissed in my ear. I did not want to create a scene but I did not have the cheek to show him the door. I asked Rose to do the job, she was dazed. Still she went to the old man.

My father keenly listened to her. The he silently walked out like a defeated Greek hero. She followed him to the court yard.

‘Please tell Seena, my daughter that this will be my last visit to India. I will be dead within a few months. Tomorrow I will fly back to Singapore.’

It took many more days for the dust to settle. Our life was shattered by the riotous course of events. Then came another news. The president of India was going to honour John with Param Veer Chakra, the highest military decoration in India. Only twenty one people had received it so far. This offered more benefits in cash and kind.

We were given air tickets to fly to Delhi to receive the post humus honour from the head of the country. Mother refused to come, she felt that she was not a good mother to him. But she yielded at last. It was our first air travel. We were received at the airport and taken to a five star hotel run by Indian Tourism Development Corporation. Everything appeared like a dream. Food was fantastic and the hotel crews were very polite and courteous. I and Rose slept on a double bed and mother chose the single bed.

“Any way he died for a noble cause, he saved the lives of two hundred girls,’ mother sighed and said. We said nothing.

John was indeed a nice man, very caring and loving. I had exploited him a great deal. Memories flashed through me. Once in our childhood I had demanded to pluck and bring a water hyacinth to me. Ignoring the risks involved, h e walked across the river, and almost drowned. He would have been no more if a farmer feeding the cow on the meadows had not come to rescue him. On another occasion I demanded a wild shapely gourd in the thicket on our way to school. He waded into the woods and disturbed a hornet’s nest. He was stung all over and was laid up for many days, and our mother beat him up for being truant. I remembered him walking in the rain drenched and happy offering me the umbrella, on our way back from school. I remembered him escorting me to the interviews and to various colleges, always protective always caring and never demanding anything. Also I remembered how he almost died of mumps which he contracted from me. He cuts a sad figure.

In the cool and serenity of the hotel room we made delicious love. It was a night which will remain etched deep in our memories. Her nubile and yielding softness clung to me for support and nourishment. Our orgasms were well deserved and gentle. We had been denying ourselves for the last many days.

Next day we were taken out for sightseeing, we visited all the landmarks of Delhi, the ancient capital that has defied thousands of dead years.

On the third day we were taken to the presidential palace. We were guided around to enjoy the fabled Mughal Gardens. In a solemn ceremony in the central hall of the palace the widow of John was honoured with the medal.

That night, back in the hotel, Rose told us that she had something to divulge. We both sat on either side of her on the cozy bed.

‘I am pregnant with his baby. On the day he came for a brief visit I had been ovulating, now I am three months into pregnancy,’ she said.

We both hugged her in ecstasy. We both ran our fingers on her belly, which had swollen a little.

‘She must be a girl,’ I hoped aloud.

‘Yes she is and I will call her Joan,’ Rose said.

She is going to be a cute baby girl who would be the slice of heaven between us. At a later stage as a dazzling young lady, probably she would make the life of another beautiful woman happy and complete.

That night we went to bed in a dreamy mood. So much had happened over a space of one month. The greatest event is that a new life is budding amidst us, offering new hopes, uniting us all in love. I kissed her fervently in the light of all the tremendous truths. She was equally passionate. Her breasts had become more rich and plumb, her nipples more succulent. The aroma of our arousal filled the room. Her nipples had become more sensitive and leathery. She climaxed while I made love to them with my mouth and hands. Her pussy was a little swollen and hot, with little bit of kissing and licking she came on my face as sweetly as ever, flooding my mouth with the sweetest juice.

Joan was destined to unite us all. We were poised to give her the best life, a life saturated with love and care. Money is no more a problem for us, we wanted to provide her with the best on earth.

My Rose’s breasts are precious to me, they are the real heaven on earth. I have to protect their shape and size. We had agreed that Rose, my wife, would breast feed Joan only for six months, another six months I will breast feed her.

Three months later we got a letter from abroad. It said that my father had passed away by kidney failure and that his huge wealth worth sixty million dollars, was to be shared between me and Rose.

We donated all the books collected by John, running into thousands, to the public library which was re-christened after him. The main road to the village was also named after him. Wherever we went people respected us and cared for us because we are the wife and sister of the nation’s hero. Government had given us many privileges and prerogatives.

Today we visited the tomb of John, and Joan kicked and rolled in the womb anxious to join us in saying a prayer for her father.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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