As Durga Puja (a major Hindu religious festival) ended, and winter set in, Mintu’s letters reflected his need for me and my love on one hand and the worry he had as to what I would do, when faced with the need to face the society we live in and tell our parents that we, while being first cousins, wanted to live together. Whatever that meant!
I was really nervous. And I was very happy, that atleast one man among the billions was willing to risk all, in order to have me and my love. Besides, I loved his style of making love. I often asked myself, if my brain had in fact been located between my legs and not between my ears.
Kolkata is not too cold. But we Bengali’s behave as if we are on the North Pole. My Mother fussed around all the times, telling us, we should be well clad and never get exposed to the treacherous wintery wind. But, around 15th December, Mintu rang up and first spoke to my Mother. It was a good 6 minutes, before he asked whether I was home. She shouted to me “Khuku — Mintu from Kharagpur”. I made a face that denoted I was not terribly happy to speak with Mintu. My Mother hissed “Your brother. You can’t speak to him without making faces!!!??”
I wanted my Mother to drift away when I spoke to him. But, she took her time trying to wrap herself with her shawl and then collected her disheveled saree and slowly padded away. Till that time, I made it appear that I was trying to arrange to find myself a seat on a stool next to the phone instrument.
As she walked away, I said “Hello”. Mintu did not waste time. He said “I am speaking from a public phone in a local shop. I can’t say what all I want to say. Besides I don’t have too much money, so I can’t talk for long. So listen carefully.” I could make out from his firm voice that he was about to say something very important.
Myriad thoughts went through my mind. Mostly negative. What if, he has decided to dump me? What if he wants to go away? What if . . . . . .
I replied “Yes. OK”
MIntu just said, “Khuku — I have a short vacation during Christmas, I want you to come to Kharagpur and stay with me for a week.” I was about to say, “That would be difficult . . . “. Mintu added, “I have already requested Pishi to let you come over and she has generally made happy noises.” I blurted, “She did??”
Mintu added, “I have told her that I need help with my thesis work”. That was a curve ball. My Mother could not possibly not help Mintu. What would her Dada (elder brother) say if he heard that Mintu needed help and she did not let Mintu have that help?
“What kind of help do you need?” I asked loudly. He asked, “Is that for atmospherics??” I ignored that question and shouted “No. I can’t come over in this weather,” He kept quiet. I then again added, “What help can I be of?? In your engineering studies?? And how can I stay in the hostel and use the toilet?” He again remained quiet. I again said after a gap. “Yes. Yes. I know. Ma will agree to whatsoever you say. But, I don’t want to be with you there. You bother me so much. How will I change? Where can I wash my clothes? Besides, where will I sleep? Where can you add a separate cot?”
The woman in me had woken up. I was play acting my irritation with his request, while my heart raced at the prospect being in his arms and surrender to his ministrations. My body ached for his pleasurable torture.
Mintu was laughing — pretty loudly. He had caught on to the fact that my loud protests were serving an audience. When I stopped talking and he stopped laughing, he said, “Seriously speaking, just pack seven salwar — kurta sets and other garments. No sarees.” He then added with a short laugh, we won’t need another cot. It creaks — and all the boys will come to know what we are up to. I will pick you up from the station. I will borrow a ladies bicycle which does not have a back carrier and bring you on the cycle.”
My sense of humor had perhaps been obscured by all the blood rushing to my crotch at the very thought of wanton love — between the danger of being discovered. I asked my usual silly question (in almost a whisper) “How will I sit on the cycle? Besides why can’t I come with you on a rickshaw?”
Mintu laughed loudly and said “Guess how you will sit on the front?”
For the life of me, I could not guess. I asked, “Where??”
“On my dick — you fool!!”
I was getting flooded. But, by this time I had recovered my mind. I whispered, “May be I can sit facing you on the same seat.”
I think he was stunned with my repartee. I turned the screw one more turn and whispered “That way, I can’t fall off the perch. After all, with my legs wrapped around you and something inside me, I will be safer.”
There was silence for a few seconds. Mintu said, “God. You are salty woman. That is why I like you so much. Just come over. I am bursting and I will not spill my seed in vain, when there is a perfectly willing place to deliver it. Besides, both of us love that, isn’t it?”
I said, “Yes.”
Then I shouted, “Let me talk to Ma. This is very unfair!!! Why do I taboo heat porno have to undergo this stupidity because you can’t do your work properly??”
A small silence was followed by my shouting “Yes. Yes. I will get the typewriter along.”
I slammed the receiver down and yelled “Ma.”
My mother answered back with irritation from the kitchen, “Yes. What is it?”
I thumped across to her and told her, “This is very unfair. You agree to my going to Mintu to help him without even asking? It will be very uncomfortable there. And I have other plans.”
She simply said, “It is your brother. And what sister does not agree to help her brother at all times?? The discomfort is nothing. It is all in your mind — silly.”
I protested and made sorry faces. She only had to look at me with a sorry face once and I made it sound as reluctant as possible and said, “Okay. I suppose, I will have to go.”
In the next few days, I packed a small suitcase with salwar — kurta sets, bras, towel etc. My over-nighter pouch with tooth brush and small vanity material. I picked out the portable typewriter and dusted it and got its ribbon changed. I told my Mother that I will be able to travel on my own in the Kolkata — Kharagpur suburban train (that takes three hours to reach)
I was dropped at the station and I reached Kharagpur. When the train coasted in, I saw him standing on the platform. I waved to him and he walked briskly to assist me get down from the train. I stepped down. He held my hand and ensured I was safe and picked up my suitcase and walked through the jostling crowd. I was thinking if he was really going to take me back on his bicycle front rod!!!
As we emerged from the under pass, he hailed a three wheeled manual rickshaw. We got into it and squeezed in.
In the bumping rickshaw, I asked, “What about that ladies cycle??” naughtily.
Mintu just looked at me, and quickly said, “Just wait. Brewing longer makes better coffee, remember?? You will ride the way you like best.”
I could feel the tremble pass down my spine that spared off a crash of electric current in crotch.
I sat like a brother and told me in English, “I have a lot to talk to you about. I want you for life. And I don’t care who says what about not falling in love with your sister. I have. I can’t help it. I know our relationship will have no social sanction. In fact, it will be illegal. But, I want you as my life partner. If we agree with what we have to do to become life partners, may be, we will get married — our way. And the next seven days can be our honeymoon.”
To put it mildly, I was stunned. I never thought that I would receive a marriage proposal sitting on a rickety rickshaw. I blushed at the very thought that he wanted this trip to be our nuptial.
I nodded and looked at his serious face. He added, “If not, we can remain siblings. And if that happens, I will never again touch you — like all brothers and sisters do in India.”
Tears welled in my eyes. I don’t know why. I wiped my tears with my small handkerchief that was rolled up in my fist. And I blew my nose and straightened myself up.
He looked straight into my eyes and said (in English), “You know, I can’t kiss your tears away in this rickshaw.” After a short silence, he added, “When we reach, I will make up to you.”
Soon enough we reached Azad Hall of Residence (the hostel block Mintu stayed).
We dismounted and moved towards his room. On the way, we had to stop several times for me to be introduced to his friends “Aamaar Bone. Amaakey thesisey help kortay eshechchey.” (My younger sister. I have got her here to help me type the thesis in.” In the Indian context, friend’s sister is immediately accepted and she becomes the universal younger sister. All friends got introduced and back slapped Mintu saying, “You lucky chap. You get your sister to help out. But, we will all chat with her and get her to cook some humanly edible food for us.”
I had to be polite and as sisterly as was possible. So I agreed to cook and look after them. One friend offered that Mintu could share his room with him, while Mintu’s sister could sleep in peace and privacy in Mintu’s room.
I knew, this was the bad news. Years of making love nearly under my Mother’s keen eyes had taught me to think on my feet. I quickly added, “I have not come here to sleep. If Mintu wants any work, he better be with me. And then, I will be a little scared too!!” Mintu’s friend shook his head in an understanding manner. I quickly added, “And then, I will be able to sleep while all of you are in your class rooms and labs.”
I had carried boxes of Bengali sweets for sharing with the wing mates in the hostel. They all met me and were amazingly polite and kind. They all partook of the sweets and offered any help that was possible. Mintu suggested, “Bol to, Khuku chaan kortay kikoray jabey?” (How will Khuku go for a bath??”) The friends obliged, “Let her lock the front door of the common bathroom while she is having teach that bitch porno her bath and dressing etc. We will simply have curfew hours at that time. We will all leave the wing.”
I understood, why IIT is the best institution of India and why are all the students so prized.
All the hum drum stuff happened and finally, escorted by a hostel wing of ten boys I went into the Mess Room for dinner. All the boys were so kind and helping. No swear words were being use. All the boys were decently dressed and no one was smoking. I did not have to stand in a line and collect my food tray. Mintu’s friends got all that for me. I was the hostel’s universal kid sister. That is the Bengali tradition.
That being over, we reached Mintu’s room back. Some boys came over and enquired it I need any help and whether they should leave the wing to let me go to the bathroom etc. I finished all my visits and then settled into the room.
Mintu shut the door finally. He then shut the window and pulled the curtains.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed. He turned back and looked at me for a moment or two. Then he leaned forward, held my wrist and pulled me to stand up. I stood close to him. He gazed into my eyes. I asked, “What are you looking at??” He did not answer. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. I looked into his eyes and expected that he would lean across and kiss me. I turned up my face slightly and, imperceptibly, leaned forward.
He slowly but firmly put his arms around my waist and said, “I truly love you — Khuku.”
I did not answer.
He then added, “I want to live with you forever. And die with you.”
His intensity got the better of me. Tears welled up in my eyes again. Was I happy? Were these tears of happiness or shock? Or was I sorry? I asked myself.
I could see what true love meant. And how deeply it affected me. My lifelong prayers and hope that I would be loved and respected by my husband appeared to have descended onto my life for real.
He softly pulled me to him. I let my body melt into his body and join every up and down and every curve of his body. I wanted total union with him. To merge my body with his. I placed my head on his chest and snuggled for comfort. I could feel the warm stream of tears on my cheeks.
Mintu stroked by back and kissed me through my hairs and said, “Shhhh. Don’t cry. Shhh.”
Between sobs, I said, “! love you too”.
I looked up at his face. He tried to wipe my tears with his rough hands. A tremble or two of sobs passed through my throat. Mintu slowly lifted my glasses off my face and placed them on the table and softly kissed me on my eyes.
He pulled me close and let me cry my heart out in his arms, while he stroked my hairs, face and kissed me on my eyes, face, neck and shoulder.
All my sorrows, unfinished desires, loss of love, hurt — all appeared to swim through my head and come out at the same time. Pouring out my heart to my love.
And he was soaking it in.
It must have taken long, since I did not notice, he had slowly made me sit and then lie down on the bed with me head on the pillow. He had squeezed himself onto this three feet wide cot with his arms holding me tight and his letting me know how much he loved me.
I stopped crying. With his fingertips, he slowly moved all my disheveled hairs on from my face and stroked my face and looked into my eyes.
I moved a little. He let me go. I slowly sat up and then sniffled and said, “Let me change.”
Mintu said, “Okay. I will step out. You change in peace. I will be back after ten minutes.”
I was intrigued. I thought he would say, “Just take off all your clothes — that is all. And keep that maxi (long flowing night dress) handy, just in case someone knocks on the door.”
I asked, “Why?? I can change in your presence.”
He said, “No. I want you to think very hard and well. So, will such time you are not sure of what you would like to do about your future, you will be a sister. Once you are clear and you decide that we will set our boats together in the sea of uncertainty, we will be man and wife.”
I loved him. I loved his love making. I loved his innovative way of making love differently every time. I never knew that he was very serious about his love for me. And he cared for me and my feelings.
Mintu walked to the door, un bolted it and stepped out. I could hear he knocked on the next door. Raja, his next room neighbor opened the door and invited him in. Mintu was telling him, “Khuku has to change, so I stepped out.”
Raja said, “Yes of course. Just let her take her time.”
I shut the door. Pulled out my maxi from my suitcase placed it on the bed and then looked carefully at the meager curtains on the window and then peeled the soaking kurta off my top. It felt so much better in the cool weather. I reached for the bra clasp, unsnapped the hook and released it. By breasts popped out and swung around. The bra had made a deep line on my torso. Then team skeet porno I put my fingers inside my salwar and pulled out the draw string and pulled it. The waist band loosened and the salwar fell to me feet.
I was stark naked. I considered for a few seconds, “Why don’t I remain naked?? When he returns, I can soothe his worries with my love.” Then I thought better of it. Mintu could be very tough. So, I sprayed some powder and used by spray deo all over and slipped the maxi on, without any under garments. I combed my hairs and put a rubber band to hold them together. I collected all the used clothes and folded them and put them into a soiled clothes bag I had brought and hid them from view.
I waited a few more minutes. Mintu did not return. I decided to signal to him and his friends that I was the real cousin sister of Mintu. So, I opened the door and stepped out into the long corridor. Raja’s door was ajar. He and Mintu were chatting. The moment Raja saw me, he got up and invited me into his room and asked me to be comfortable. He was so well behaved and proper. It showed that in most Indian homes, all boys are taught to be very civil. And that culture shows.
Three of us chatted for about ten minutes. Then I told Mintu, “Let us leave Raja to study. He does not have free secretarial help with him.” Mintu got up and left Raja alone. We said, “Good night” and returned to our room.
Mintu bolted the door. He rummaged in his open wardrobe and took large bundles of cloth. When he opened them out, I saw the neater bundle was a rolled up sleeping bag. He placed the sleeping bag on the floor. He opened out the other bundle. It had two mosquito nets. He went about quickly to string both up mosquito nets.
I was aching for his comfort and love.
Mintu said, “Let us both get under the mosquito net on the sleeping bag and sit inside and talk. If you sit without the mosquito net, the mosquitoes will bite you and make you into a sieve.”
I did not want to get into an argument. I just crawled into the net. Mintu picked out a pajama set from his wardrobe. Turned away, took off all his clothes. He stood stark naked facing away from me. He applied some talcum powder all over his body and then slipped into his kurta and pajama. He flung his clothes into a corner and crept into the mosquito net. He tucked the net under the sleeping bag and sat down facing me.
For about half an hour we had small talk — as if there was nothing important to talk of — or no night of unending love awaiting us.
Then he stopped and said, “Khuku, we have talked of great many things. Mostly nonsense. I want to talk to you and see where we can take our relationship.”
I looked into his eyes. He was dead serious. And determined! I decided this was not the time to talk, but to listen and respond only. I knew we were going to talk of matters that could change the course of our lives — forever.
Mintu said, “Khuku — years back, when you seduced me, we loved each other’s body. All I wanted was more of your body. And may be all you wanted was fulfillment of your sex needs. We made love non-stop. Like a dog and bitch in heat.
I would be lying, if I did not concede, even now, I want to lay you down and fuck you till we are exhausted. You are a fantastic woman.
Most women are simply a pussy with a body. You are willing to play. You are beguiling and intelligent and clever. People get their brains fucked out. You fuck with your brain.
You are all pussy.
When my fantasy requires that you remain bald, you just do it and don’t argue. When I want to give you a butter massage, you play along. When I tell you to rub a perfumed cream into your pussy mound and your arm pits and your elbow etc — you just do it. I tie you top the bed and fuck you — you play along. I lift your buttocks up with pillows and deep fuck you — you enjoy it.
When I say, no masturbating — you don’t masturbate.
I must say, conventionally, you are not the prettiest girl I have met. But, according to me, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen or met. And will perhaps meet.
You are salty and you are sweet. You are clever and accomplished.
Even when you are muffling your ecstatic cry when you have your orgasm, it sounds like music to me.”
I changed my position. Mintu thought, I was about to say something. He said, “Just don’t say anything right now. Just let me say what I want to.
As years have passed by, I have realized that I truly love you. And that I want to spend my entire life with you. I want to be able to make you melt in my arms. I want to kiss you only. I want you for myself, and no one else should be able to touch you.
I want to make love to you every day in every new way, in day and in the night, pull you out of a party — take you home and fuck you; call your office and ask you to take leave and wait downstairs to be taken to a hotel to be fucked. I want to do this every day of my life and let you know how much I love you.
Every day, I want to bathe together with you. I want to shampoo your hairs every day. Soaping each other! I want to soap your breasts and fondle them every day. I want to soap your butt, part the cheeks and soap every crevasse of your body. I want to part your pussy lips every day; soap it and clean it for you. Sunday, I want to give you a bath.