Father-in-law make me his wife (Sasur Ki Patni Bani)

Sonam, the young bride who had just recently become a mother, was staying at her mother’s place when she received a phone call.

Puran, her husband, had called her with the bitter-sweet news. He had been deputed on assignment to Denver for a medium term project that could potentially last for about six months, may be less may be more. Momentarily, Sonam was happy at the possibility of travel to the States. She had always dreamed about visiting that country. Yet, she was soon crestfallen. Given the short term of the project, her husband’s family had decided that Puran would be travelling alone. He had concurred and reconciled to that decision.

“I’ll stay while you leave?” Sonam had responded in surprise on hearing the news. But then she murmured sullenly, “Good! In that case I can stay here, at my mother’s place during this period.”

There was silence at the other end.

Puran was already torn at leaving her alone. “But…but …”

“What…” She asked exasperated at his hesitation, although she was in no mood to hear anything else.

“You will have to come and stay at your sasural, Sonam. Babuji (daddy) would insist on it.”

“No way, no …how …how can you ask me to!” She was almost in tears. Why of all the places did she have to stay in her sasural while her husband was away for such a long time? In a huff, she placed the phone back on the cradle. Being very sensitive, she was hurt at her husband’s inconsideration.

Sonam’s mother noticed her daughter in tears. Before she could find out the reason, the phone rang again. She waited for Sonam to answer, but her daughter had anguish written all over her face with tears rolling down her cheeks. The young Sonam made no attempt to respond, leaving the ringing to die into silence.

The phone rang again. This time her mother picked up and spoke to Puran. The news turned out to be more devastating for Sonam as she was required to travel to her sasural the next day. Her mother’s consolation was of little help, and her sorrow didn’t lessen in the least. She cried all night.

As she tossed and turned in bed, she felt anger and hurt. Her husband, despite professing so much love for her, didn’t seem to be too caring, almost throwing her into a miserable plight and leaving her alone in wilderness. Newly born Varun, now barely 40 days old, needed lot of attention and care, as any infant of that age would. Timely breast feeding, changing of diapers frequently, visiting the pediatrician, attending to her own chores and so forth would take away so much of Sonam’s time. She needed her husband’s love and attention at this time, more than ever. And most certainly, she looked forward to being cuddled and cared for by the man to whom she was wedded and now this seemed like a virtual desertion.

Frankly, Sonam had spent very little time at her In-laws place and knew little of her father-in-law, Balwant Singh. They talked little among themselves, Sonam mostly remaining quiet in such exchanges out of shyness, when the newly wedded couple had stayed at the family ‘haveli’ soon after their wedding. She came to know that the patriarch was a wealthy landowner, and a local businessman, with large farm lands too. He was well regarded in the area and was always treated with respect. The conversation between the daughter-in-law and the patriarch usually revolved around her health and well being and whether she needed anything. But such discussions were always grave and serious and at times, the young bride felt rather intimidated. The middle-aged man usually wore local outfits, like colorful kurtas and dhoti that clung to his well built body. He held a thick head of hair, with some silver streaks at the edges, on this tall frame. And he sported a handlebar mustache that made him look more imposing.

Notwithstanding the father-in-law, she had quickly built a camaraderie with others in the family. Anurudh (44), Balwant ‘s younger brother, lived in the other wing of the haveli with his wife Anjali and two growing kids. Anjali was a beautiful woman and provided sisterly company to Sonam. They enjoyed good conversation and sharing of interests. Matasari (33), a care-taker in her thirties, took care of Balwant ‘s wing. Not only did she take care of all the young bride’s needs, but she was also a kind person and turned out to be a reliable confidant, as the events would prove in the latter part of this narration.

There were other friends and relatives of the family – who were often around – and cared for Sonam. She and Puran had visited and hung around with people in their age group.

The fact that the place had some tourism brought a modicum of city culture, and the younger generation had obviously adopted much of these trends. It was just that they lived at some distance from the city where the people were more traditional and, to an extent, conservative.

The place where the haveli was situated was sparsely populated. Their largeness was surrounded by lush greenery and even fertile cultivable land nearby. There were other houses in the neighborhood, although not as big as theirs. The spacing among them provided a lot of privacy.

At this moment, however, she could have hated two persons – her husband for not taking her with him when he went abroad and two, her father-in-law. It was this man, the imposing patriarch, who must have stood in the way and blocked this opportunity for her to go abroad.

Yet, she had no choice. The air tickets arrived the next day. She tearfully bade good bye to her family and boarded the plane. The journey was uneventful, except for the embarrassment of feeding Varun in the clustered seats.

On the second leg of the journey, she had a momentary shuteye. An announcement from the flight attendant woke her up and soon, they were preparing to land.

It is in this situation that this narration begins, a narration of memories in a taboo relationship between two individuals, far apart in age, in their own eyes.

Sonam narrates

It was impossible for the twenty four year old Sonam to bear the two alarming news that her husband Puran told her over the phone. One, that even though her husband had bagged a nice post in USA for six months and possible extension thereafter, she would not be accompanying him in that journey abroad. The second news, which was equally devastating, was that she would have to go back to her ‘sasural’ (father-in-law’s house) immediately the next day, when she completed the requisite forty days after childbirth at her mother’s. She cried a lot, telling her mother to do something but alas! Her mother, helplessly, consoled her, told her that ‘sasural’ was really the heaven in a woman’s world and it would be odd for Sonam to stay back at her ‘maike’ (own father & mother’s house) and earn the ill reputation among relatives and neighbors of being a bad ‘bahu’ (house wife).

Sonam was a pretty girl and it was her beauty that sealed her marriage to Puran. Her marriage had been an arranged one, a process whereby the selection of a bride is undertaken by the groom’s family, sometimes much to the chagrin of the girl and her family. Luckily, Sonam’s father-in-law selected her the moment she had been led into the room by her mother. The man, her would be father-in-law, didn’t even haggle on dowry, a notorious system which is still practiced slyly in certain places. He waived the dowry without a thought, insisting on an early marriage. And so, the ravishing, long haired, fair, demure, curvaceous twenty three year old girl with pouted lips, was wedded to this patriarch’s obedient son, who too was rather young at twenty five.

Sonam’s parents were from western India and, like most of them who were usually identified as a business community migrating to various parts of the country, her earlier generations too had settled down in Patna in the past. Her husband’s family, however, had not migrated. They were Rajputs, which expressed in their rather handsome yet rugged features and good health and physique. But, as said earlier, the selection of a bride into this Rajput family really came about because of Sonam’s ravishing beauty, a thing which traditional families stressed upon.

Sonam’s marriage had taken place a year earlier, but her stay at her ‘sasural’ had been short. Her husband worked and stayed in Bangalore, to where the newlywed couple had left almost immediately after marriage. But, more reasons were there. For one, she was shy and far too young to adjust in a new family. Also, she was somewhat averse to facing her father-in-law too often. The man was very authoritative, angry, arrogant, much too traditional, had total control over his only son Puran, and Sonam almost shrunk in his presence. He expected total obedience, from both his son and his ‘bahu’. Sonam felt that the man was too dominant and would be a terror if she had to live in the sprawling haveli. She thought she was lucky that her husband worked elsewhere, far away from her ‘in-laws’ house which meant she could move about freely. Of course, despite her fear, she respected her elders and particularly her father-in-law because she was taught and brought up from childhood to think likewise. So, it was both fear and respect which guided the young girl in her relationship towards her father-in-law. It couldn’t be denied that this man was tall, muscular, tanned and, to some extent, dark complexioned. There could be no doubt that in his younger days he was really a strikingly handsome man and many women would have, undoubtedly, secretly fallen in love with him.

Balwant Singh, the father-in-law, never called Sonam by name, but always addressed her as ‘Bahu’. Sometimes he hissed the word, particularly when he found her alone, much to Sonam’s uneasiness. On occasions, he would ring her at Puran’s flat in the city where he worked. Even then, he would deliberately repeat calling her Bahu and in that weird and almost hypnotizing tone. Sonam always addressed her as ‘Babuji’ which is the traditional way a father or father-in-law is addressed.

The initial days of Sonam’s marriage went off rather smoothly. It was true, however, that Puran did not possess the rugged manliness of his father nor even his uncle. He was far shorter in height, just a couple of inches taller than Sonam, couldn’t boast of a manly physique or sexual virility. Sonam experienced her husband’s inept conjugal abilities, very often ejaculating much before his wife could reach even half of her expectations. However, luckily, he was not impotent for, very soon after their marriage, the young bride became pregnant. Varun, their son, was born out of their wedlock. Now, forty days after his birth, Sonam had to leave her ‘maike’ and go back to her ‘sasural’.

At Patna Airport, there were scenes that usually go in parting. Sonam cried as her mother consoled and then she herself couldn’t hide a few tears now that she had to part from both her daughter and grandson. Inside the aircraft, luckily, Sonam got a convenient seat that enabled her to breastfeed her baby in some privacy. Her breasts were too full of milk and heavy, a few drops oozed out of the nipples on to her bra and Sonam felt embarrassed. She had wrapped her breasts with the palloo (end of sari used as a stole to cover breasts or head), till she was conveniently settled down in her seat. She hugged and loved and suckled the child, not able to hide her tears at leaving her mother and father behind at Patna.

During the second leg of the flight from Delhi, Sonam gathered herself knowing that grief and grievance would be of little value in her present situation. She fell asleep for a while, helping her more to overcome her sadness. The plane landed about an hour later where Sonam’s husband Puran was eagerly waiting for her. They hadn’t seen one another for almost forty days, Puran having come away from Patna immediately after the baby’s birth. His eyes already showed how much he longed for his beautiful wife, after waiting for this long.

Gleaming with happiness as he saw Sonam and Varun arrive from the gates to the baggage claim area, he was restless to be near them. As they trudged out, he looked at his beautiful wife, who stood out in the crowd. He walked fast now, dashing towards them and to take them in his arms. He was longing to meet his wife and his newborn son. It had been weeks since he had left them at Patna and the baby already seemed bigger and chubbier. Sonam looked splendid, her bosoms were full and even her lips looked fuller. He wished to plant his lips on hers but, in keeping with tradition, he did not kiss his wife in public.

The drive to the haveli (mansion) took more than an hour and, during this time, Puran quickly updated Sonam about what had been going on in the household. He offered reasons for his sudden departure to USA, also trying to explain, in the best way possible, why she had to stay back in India with her infant son while her husband left. Sonam nodded as if to say she understood, because she knew any argument would be futile.

“Sonam darling,” Puran said, “I have got to tell you something. Babuji has changed his bedroom. You know our bedroom is at one end of the first floor while Uncle Anurud is at the other end and earlier, Babuji used to sleep in a room which was in the middle? But he has shifted his bedroom to the one next to our bedroom, saying that in my absence he’ll have to keep a watch to see that Bahu and the baby did not fall into trouble. Even to ensure that the requirements of the mother and child were easily met, if he happened to hear about it.” Puran kept watching his wife, trying to sound as convincing as possible.”

“I know you might feel that this may affect your privacy but please bear with it. Babuji is only being very protective and not purposefully spying on you.” He went on saying.

Sonam didn’t say anything but kept quiet. But, it was obvious, she was uneasy and was trying to fathom the extent to which she would be kept under observation.

In a while, Puran placed his hand on hers as he drove the car. He loved his wife a lot even though there was a lot of deficiency in him. Sonam kept looking at the road before she asked a question.

“Whatever Babuji says or does, we have to accept. So, there’s no use feeling bad about it or grumbling. When are you supposed to leave for USA?” She was apprehensive, as she recollected Babuji’s insistent phone calls, but she didn’t want to tell anything about it to anyone, not even her husband.

Puran just patted her hand and said, “I leave day after tomorrow from Delhi, and we have two nights to ourselves. Sonam, two nights … just imagine.” It was obvious that he was already very excited.

When they reached the haveli Sonam had already customarily covered her head with her palloo, like a shy bahu.

Alighting from the car, she walked up to where the entire family had assembled to welcome the bride of the house. Anjali, Anurudh, the patriarch himself, Anjali’s two kids and the servants. Anjali was the first to welcome Sonam, as she hugged the young housewife. She took the infant Varun in her arms and uttering sweet nothings to the baby with unbridled affection. She then bent down and touched the feet of Anurudh, who gave her a polite hug. Balwant stood a little behind, waiting possibly to get the due respects and attention from the young bahu and mother of his grandson. She walked up to her father-in-law very demurely and then bent down to touch his feet reverentially.

“How are you Babuji?” she asked, her eyes riveted to the floor like a young shy wife.

The patriarch bent down and, holding her at the shoulders, asked her to get up, which she did. He looked deeply at his young and very pretty daughter-in-law, as his mustache twitched over his lips.

“Bless you, bahu! May you live long and remain wedded for many, many years.” And then looking at Varun, he asked, “How is my grandson doing?” He took Varun in his arms, his face glowing in pride on holding his grandson to his broad chest. A male heir in India even nowadays enhances the joy and pride in families.

Sonam looked at his father-in-law with curious eyes. She was unable to fathom this man. He was so aloof and arrogant at times and at other times so accessible and caring. And now, he was all smiles and glowing with his grandson.

The warmth of the family eased her distress and helped Sonam to overcome the earlier sadness that she had felt while leaving her parents. She went to her room and refreshed herself while her baby remained in the company of the other ladies of the house.

Later, the day was spent with Anjali and others from the extended family, chatting about Sonam’s time away from them and whether she was looking forward to spending her time at the haveli. They all joked as they sympathized with her being away from Puran for an uncertain period. Anjali even offered to keep Varun for the night so that she could have uninterrupted time with Puran. She smiled and declined, as Varun had to be fed at regular intervals. As she spoke her swelling breasts caused some pressure and degree of discomfort and she wanted relief. She quietly took Varun to her room but, as she did, she noticed the probing eyes of her father-in-law following her when she left the living room.

She went past the door adjacent to her own room, wondering if it was the room that the patriarch had been occupying after relocating from the previous one. This was just next to theirs and, therefore, shared a common wall. She wondered if the wall was thick enough to prevent any sound to filter into the adjacent room. There were times when the young couple threw caution to the winds during sex and were noisy, unrestrained in their grunts and moans. She speculated if that night would be similar. She hurried. It had been a long time since the last feed and she was bursting.

As soon as she reached her room, she unbuttoned her blouse and quickly tried to unhook her bra. In her hurry the bra’s hook, stubbornly, remained unmoved to her efforts. Having done that all her life, she was surprised at herself. In desperation she pushed down the cup of the bra and exposed the nipple partially while bringing Varun up on to her nipple. A jet of milk rushed out even before Varun’s lips could be on it and, in the process, smearing her top and partially her bra. Varun hungrily kept feeding as Sonam sighed in relief. It had been a while since the last feed and she enjoyed the special moment, caring for her child suckling on her young breasts.

She had to clean herself, change her bra and top, and arrived back in the living room. She felt that all eyes were on her – observed by most but, most certainly, under the pointed scrutiny of the patriarch. Was it womanly instincts or her just being paranoid?They talked for some more time and finally, being tired and exhausted, she excused herself to retire for the night. Back in her bedroom, she recollected that this had been their room immediately after her marriage with the large nuptial bed facing the East. She loved the feeling of belonging to the room, their room … her room! The bed was truly spacious and had witnessed nights of her lovemaking with Puran. Eagerly, she thought about the exciting moments that would follow soon behind the closed doors. It had been a long time since they had sex, perhaps months prior to and after delivery. Having completely healed after her childbirth, Sonam was beginning to feel amorous, as goosebumps flew through her supple body.

As Sonam kept feeding her baby, lost in her thoughts, she had to admire her father-in-law. Even before she had arrived at the sprawling haveli with her forty day old son, this elderly man had arranged for a crib in their room. It wasn’t something that her husband had thought over and purchased as a husband, which should have been the case. Rather, it was the patriarch’s careful foresight to provide one in their bedroom that inwardly Sonam appreciated. This fact was honestly admitted by her husband too.

She wondered what her father in law could be doing at that moment. He looked so big and strong and so very ridiculously manly! She shivered at a weird thought that flew in to her mind but let it pass quickly but not before blushing.

Varun suckled on his mother’s overflowing breasts while she kept looking at the baby’s face. So tender, so tiny, so lovable. Whom did he look like, thought Sonam? She softly hummed a lullaby for her child till he fell asleep, and Sonam placed him in the cot.

“Now Varun, don’t get up at night and disturb Papa and me,” she said in mock seriousness and smiled. Yes, they needed a lot of time to themselves – so many things to discuss before her husband left. And, she did feel the need to have her husband beside her and love her. She knew that there was some excitement in her that needed to be attended to, although, in all fairness, Varun’s presence suppressed the arousal that were creeping in now and then. Mother’s love … natural and unchanged, as always, she thought.

Sonam washed her face and brushed her teeth and slowly got ready for bed. Like always, she wore a soft, sheer pink nightie but kept on wearing the exotic pink lingerie set, more unmindful than with a specific purpose. She sat at the edge of the bed, wondering what was keeping her husband still away from the bedroom and her. Was he still talking with her father-in-law? Quite a man, the patriarch, thought Sonam once again, so strong and robust in appearance. She quickly turned her thoughts away to something else by looking at the big windows with the big curtains blowing softly with the window.

At a distance she could see the tiny lights of the town, almost like twinkling stars.

Fortunately, there were no houses situated nearby and so the inmates of the room could enjoy their privacy.

At that moment, her chain of thoughts was broken when there was a knock on the door and, before Sonam could respond, Puran pushed open the door and walked in.

Once inside, he quickly shut the door as if there was a hurry and urgency. Filled with lust, Puran gaped at his pretty wife who, as always, looked stunning and desirable in that nightie with the lace outline of her bra visible underneath. He simply couldn’t hold himself and rushed across to the bed and beside his wife. His hands were wrapping around Sonam with a towering passion. The bulge on his middle, even under the kurta and pajama, was clearly visible to Sonam and only increased her own need. But she was too reticent and inhibited in showing her own need and desire. Not so Puran, who was breathless just seeing Sonam in that provocative and alluring nightwear with the accompanying exotic lingerie clearly distinguishable underneath.

“It’s been such a long wait, Sonam,” Puran said, taking deep breaths just to utter these few words, “and now you are beside me. I can’t control myself.” He was virtually shaking in the throes of excitement.

“I don’t believe you,” Sonam said in mock sentimental anger,” because if that were true you wouldn’t have remained downstairs for so long.”

“What could I do Sonam? The whole family was downstairs, and they know I’ll be leaving in a couple of days. So, they didn’t want to leave me, telling me they won’t bother me after two days. But believe me, I kept thinking of you even when I was with them.”

Puran tried to pull Sonam towards him, tried to turn her face to plant a kiss but the girl, young as she was, remained distant and sentimental.

“I don’t want to talk with you. I have Varun, he will give me company,” Sonam went on saying.

“Please darling,” Puran said, “Don’t get angry. Don’t you realize my condition now? I have difficulty in keeping down this fellow here whose fire only you can douse.” Puran was desperate now. He held Sonam’s hand and lifted it first to his lips and kissed the back of the palm. Then slowly, he started lowering the soft, delicate hand to his chest and further down. In moments, it came and rested on his hardness that was trying to wriggle underneath.

The moment Sonam’s hand touched that hardness of her husband she felt as if an electric current had passed through her, ignited all her sexual nerves, opening all her closed doors of resistance, erasing all thoughts of mock sentimental anger. Her lips opened in a sheer show of raw passion and lust. A deep breath showed that she too was just as eager and hungry. She squeezed the shaft, first with one hand and then placed both her hands on the still invisible shaft.

“You want that I take it off?” Puran asked in a trembling voice.

Sonam had lost her voice. She just nodded. But before Puran, she had herself raised her husband’s kurta so that it rested on his chest and, after untying the knot, started to pull down his pajama. She smiled when she saw the brief that Puran was wearing. There was a big, wet area where his shaft had leaked a lot of pre-cum.

To Sonam, that sight was too much of an attraction and she quickly pulled down the brief and watched her husband’s cock jump out. It swayed in front of her and she smiled at her husband before extending a hand and holding it.

“Shall I tell you something?” Sonam was already blushing and then shaking her head, “No, I shouldn’t … you’ll think bad of me.”

“No. no … tell me Sonam, I won’t mind in the least and how can I think bad of my wife?” Puran said quickly.

“I wish it were bigger,” she said and then blushing like a beetroot, she quickly hid her face in the pillow.

“Hmmm … so my wife needs something enormous,” Puran teased her. “She’s been thinking about big things, eh? Ok, we will see what we can do about that … but for now my obedient wife would know how to please her husband, isn’t it?” Puran laughed, seeing her wife blush and shake her head violently by hiding her face in the pillow.

In all fairness it had to be said that Puran could not honestly boast about his ‘manhood’. It was modest at five inches when excited and even its girth was not one which could be said to be thick or a ‘handful’. Puran knew this shortcoming in himself and wished it were ‘manlier’ and more robust than what he possessed. Nonetheless, he was too excited that night, having got his pretty and sexy wife after so many days. He turned Sonam’s face so that she looked at him.

“How can it be big if you hide your face instead of giving this organ the warmth of your mouth and the touches of your eager tongue?” Puran asked in a tremulous voice. He unhooked the nightie to reveal her lingerie, his mouth opening at the sight of the enticing pair that had laces embedded on it.

“Oh my god!” He blurted, as he softly ran his hands over the pair of milk laden breasts still covered in such exotic gossamer. She really looked bewitching, he thought.

Sonam didn’t wait further. She held the shaft in both hands and quickly brought her face nearer to this excited length of meat. She watched how the pre-cum had gathered at the tip and brought her lips on the spot. In seconds, she was eagerly brushing her red lips on the wet tip, allowing these to make her lips to shine and gloss, making her seem a lot sexier to Puran. Her tongue searched the head of the shaft, the mushroom that formed above the crescent and took this portion inside her warm, wet mouth, nibbling it teasingly for a while. Puran squirmed in bed in excitement and knew if this went on he would soon ejaculate his load. He had had this problem always … the inability to retain in the face of extreme arousal.

But here was Sonam, excitedly sucking the modest cock and sometimes taking it out of her mouth and licking the shaft all over and smiling contentedly at her husband. She moaned endlessly, and Puran feared that these sounds would penetrate the walls and escape into the adjoining room where his father had only shifted a day earlier.

Suddenly, and without warning, Puran ejaculated. It was impossible for him to control and hold back his load in the face of this frantic cock sucking of his young wife who herself was in an extreme stage of arousal and heat. His hot load quickly drained into Sonam’s mouth, who swallowed it fully, not allowing even a drop to fall out of her mouth.

But, at the end of it, the poor wife knew that once again she would have to do without the cock in her wet, eager and impatient womanhood. She could almost cry at being deprived of the ultimate pleasure once again. She didn’t know how she would be able to abstain from physical proximity with her husband for long six months. Although she expressed little, in her heart of hearts, she knew how much she loved and longed for sex and her insatiable appetite for it!

Small drops of tears that had formed at the corner of Sonam’s eyes did not escape Puran. He quickly had his arms around her.

“Sonam? Baby? Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Oh! I’ll miss you so much for such a long period. I love you so much and now I’ll have to spend sleepless nights in this room alone,” she said in tears.

“True. But Varun will be here, and he will keep you occupied and busy,” Puran tried to console.

“I know I’ll have Varun and he is the apple of my eyes. But a wife needs her husband … and a man beside her … and, at night, she needs fulfillment of a different type. Where will I get that? Who do I go to? On whose shoulder do I cry? Who will have his arms around me and comfort me? Who will keep me warm in these long and bitter winter nights?”

Sonam went on saying, and in her sorrow the pitch of her voice was far from suppressed. Puran feared that her voice might have been audible to anyone who kept his ears open in the next room. He placed a hand on her lips to quieten her.

Sonam went on sobbing, her breasts heaving to suppress herself. Puran lovingly went on caressing her, running his hands over her head and down her long stresses of hair. He really hadn’t anything to say or comfort her with.

There was silence in the room excepting for the soft sobbing of a pretty, young and emotional girl.

Little did the couple know that their intimate privacy had been invaded and someone else had been privy to every act, every word, every emotion and all the lust that evolved between a husband and his beautiful, hot wife.

Balwant Singh narrates

Balwant was not his usual self for the past few days. Ever since he came to know that his son was being deputed to Denver for a medium term assignment, his mind always went back to that first visit that he and his family had made to Patna and meet Sonam and her parents.

…They had been looking for a beautiful and docile bride for their son and, on the suggestion of a close acquaintance who vouched for her beauty, made this trip together.

The moment she had walked through the door to meet them, her innocence coupled with that rare beauty and fullness, struck him. She was beautiful in the conventional sense, the traditional rather than the modern. Yet, she had something that made her unique. Was it that she displayed a sexual aura that made a woman a woman? A woman to be tended, seduced, loved or even taken with force. The pouty lips had made her ever more desirable and, quite often, he had gaped open mouthed.

At that moment then, at Sonam’s house, he was suddenly jolted out of this lecherous thought. Oh my god! What was he thinking. He was here to look for his son’s bride and yet he …!

He had shaken his head. But the thoughts would not go away. His eyes had remained on Sonam. Given the nature and purpose of that visit, that of selecting a bride for his son, nobody could fault him for glancing repeatedly at this girl. It was a selection after all and needed scrutiny. Yet, what was so special in this girl that he could not take his gaze off her even when the choice was made in his mind? Was it some pheromone, some exquisite fragrance, that covered her in an aura that sucked him in? His desires hidden for so long, ever since he had become a widower, were coming to the fore very rapidly.

A sensation engulfed him in a manner that had never happened before, certainly not when he had visited the homes of other prospective brides for making a choice.

Soon their talk had revolved around other matters to make the match happen. There seemed to be a cultural difference between Sonam’s family and his own. While they were all educated and big city dwellers, he and his family, excepting his son, were hardly educated. They were rustic dwellers, more accustomed to farming and business, than intelligent and cultural discourse.

As per the tradition in the family, the final decision had had to be made by him. Puran had nodded his assent. All eyes had been on Balwant Singh, the head of the family, the all-knowing patriarch. His heart had been beating hard, he had been seriously engaged in his own thoughts, assessing the value of the girl to him and his family. He did not like the fact that she was educated and a city dweller who would not want to stay with them in their rural set up, no matter how rich they were or how big a ‘haveli’ they had. Yet, he was mesmerized by the sexual aura of the innocent girl. His vicarious dirty-self had conjured up possibilities although, in his sane mind, he kept thinking that it would never happen. But then, what …what …if he were to ever get this girl. The raw, crude, lecherous thoughts had swept through him. He had felt an uncontrollable stirring in his loins which, fortunately, he had quickly stifled before anyone could realize anything amiss or awkward.

He had nodded and looked at Sonam. Their eyes had met for the briefest moment. For once, she hadn’t bowed down but held her gaze and looked straight at his eyes. He had just nodded, there had been a mild twitching in his eyes, as if silently expressing to the girl only that he found her acceptable, before he had turned his face and had said aloud, “I would feel honored to have Sonam as my bahu. She will be a treasure to our family and the perfect bride for Puran.”

He had then looked at the girl’s father “Our choice is made. We will be honoured to have your daughter as our bahu. We are sure you will not turn us down.”…

There had been a boisterous applause and a sigh of relief all around. The marriage had been sealed on that day.

The patriarch’s reverie was broken at the sudden wailing of the infant in the next room, obviously that of a hungry Varun throwing his arms and legs about.

His mind moved to the present, as he sat on his bed, removing his shoes from his weather-beaten feet. He heard a voice from the other room. It was Sonam, comforting and assuring her baby.

The last few days he had been thinking about the arrival of the young Sonam. He had made quite a few arrangements for her, beaming with an inward happiness at the looming certainty of the arrival of his ‘bahu’. The change in his bedroom to bring it next to the couple’s, a crib for little Varun, special bedding and dMolestations for the windows of the couple’s bedroom and providing them with a big screen TV, and such other things that he felt necessary. In thoughts of her imminent arrival, he had often found himself aroused. He could not help but touch himself. Every night, for past few days, he had masturbated and had cum hard, sometimes even whispering Sonam’s name in silent moans.

The two bedrooms were divided by a thick wall, but like many ancestral homes, there was a door that connected the rooms. The door did not seal shut, as would any door in a modern home. A small opening had formed between the two panels of the door, due to continuous usage and wear and tear over the years. This gave a somewhat obstructed view of the other room. Also, it did not stop the sounds escaping from one room to another, especially in the wee hours of the night when silence would blanket the entire ‘haveli’. Balwant was apprehensive that the couple would know about the relatively porous door that was supposed to seclude them in privacy. He had got a night lamp installed in the couple’s room that provided adequate illumination inside, even when the main lights were switched off. Of course, with his own ministrations, the bed was situated right in the middle of the room, just in line with the porous crack on the partition door.

He had changed into his night clothes that consisted of a sparse dhoti. He had long ago given up wearing briefs to bed. He turned off all the nights in his room and tiptoed his way to the interconnecting door and was amazed at what he saw in the room.

Puran was lying naked on his back on the bed, with his pajama and brief lying scattered around on the floor. Sonam, on the other hand, was not fully naked. But, what she wore was enough to raise Balwant’s desires. She was sitting beside him, holding his hardening appendage in her small hands. She was looking down at him, as his head rested on the pillow. They spoke for a few moments, the patriarch eavesdropping into each word that aroused him more and more. She saw Sonam smiling and then bringing her face down.

Tentatively, she brought her lips to the shiny glans and licked it off. The brazen act sent a shiver through Balwant. He was right. Always right!! She loved to suck her husband’s cock.

Her tongue swiped of the precum that had oozed out of the tip. Balwant let out a silent groan, careful that it did not pass on to the next room. His own fingers reached inside his dhoti, finding himself hard. His fingers clasped his rapidly growing cock while his eyes remained glued inside, watching his bahu take the phallus of her husband.

Was this voyeuristic act wrong, he asked himself? He shook his head in rebuttal. He stroked himself, pumping his dark and monstrous shaft with eyes locked on the once innocent girl who was his bahu. But Sonam had taken the puny cock of her husband inside her mouth, coating it with her saliva. She waited and savored the sensation for a moment. She slowly eased off and then took him fully in her mouth, her pouting lips circling around the trivial girth before bobbing her head up and down. Her delicate fingers stroked him, as she sucked deep and hard like a whore. The sound of moans, the jingling of her bangles and slight creaking of their bed now and then, were drifting easily through the door, like some heavenly music, giving enormous pleasure to Balwant. The man’s lust continued to surge.

Never in his life Balwant was so aroused. He abruptly pulled his dhoti off his waist and, standing naked in his own room, he aggressively started pumping himself in unison with his bahu’s head movement. The sounds from within the next room grew both in intensity and frequency. A loud popping sound resonated when Sonam pulled her mouth out to get air. A line of leer connected the tip of the cock right to her lips. Her pouty sensual lips, now coated with juices, were shining in dim light. Impatiently, Puran pulled her back for her to continue his ministrations. This time he started pushing his pelvis upwards, fucking her mouth as she tried to push down. They were in gay abundance, not knowing or caring of anything in the world. She was a picture of a slut whose mouth was full though not stretched. From where he stood, Balwant wondered how much those pretty lips could be stretched. Would it hold something much thicker, longer, harder? Oh god!

Suddenly and without any warning, Puran let out a cry. His back arched and went rigid as he went into a climax. In rapid spasms, he shot into her mouth and quickly ejaculated.

The young woman, not aware of what was coming tried to move away. Her bewildered eyes, still full of lust, was waiting for more to come. But like a dutiful wife and woman, she let him ejaculate inside her mouth without letting a drop to spill out.

On this side of the room, Balwant was still playing with his own cock, wishing the scene to continue before his eyes. He was in no hurry to hasten his own climax. He was certain that the girl was not satisfied and held himself back. He had hoped that his son would take her in his arm and fuck her. Instead, all he saw was that she was in tears and that Puran was trying to console her. He felt sorry for the deprived Sonam, so unsatisfied and let down by her own husband!

He pricked his ears, for Sonam was saying something that rang a bell, “…and, at night, she needs fulfillment of a different type. Where will I get that? Who do I go to? On whose shoulder do I cry? Who will have his arms around me and comfort me? Who will keep me warm in these long and bitter winter nights?”

Oh! God! What was she saying? Oh! Bahu! You have me, me. He wanted to shout for the girl to hear and let her feel happy and stop crying.

Quickly, Balwant went to answer nature’s call in the bathroom at the back of his room, before rushing back to his vantage point. Tying his dhoti back again, he stood at his post. Looking in now, he found Sonam with her blouse open, her pink bra unhooked and pulled open, the cups hanging down and Varun latching on to her right engorged nipple.

The beautiful breasts filled with mother’s milk provided the most beautiful and sensual picture of the girl, a mother now feeding her offspring, who rightfully was the descendant of his own clan, thought the proud Balwant. He could sense a feeling of relief in her face from her earlier lust filled contortions. Puran was on the bed, letting of a soft snore. He was not even awake to take care of his wife.

The picture sent a feeling of both amorous rage and a feeling of empathy for her daughter-in-law in Balwant Singh’s mind. She was a woman. A young girl turned into a woman in the span of a year or so. She was someone who had got a taste of sexual arousal but was yet too far from satisfied. Of this, Balwant was certain.

As a patriarch and head of the family, he could not let that happen!! After all, he was ‘mard’ (a virile man) and he simply couldn’t turn a blind eye on the suffering of his deprived ‘bahu’.

A little while later, even before Sonam could recover from the sadness that filled her mind, she saw her husband turn around to face the other side and fall asleep. She could hear his soft snoring too, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. At first, Sonam cried alone – not because her husband would be leaving the day following the next, but because she had expected so much that night after her long absence. And yet, it just fizzled out once again to leave her deprived and dissatisfied. After all, they had abstained from any copulation for a few months prior to child birth and later, during her postnatal convalescence. Also, Nihal her husband, had come away from her father’s place the very next day after Varun was born, depriving each of them of any form of sexual relief even when actual copulation was not possible. At this moment, she was truly unfulfilled, and the lust that grew in her could not be quickly doused.

She stared at her husband’s back helplessly, her mind still filled with carnal desires and the uneasy thought of facing many months more without her husband and a man, no matter how inept he was in sex. People thought that only men craved for sex, little realizing that even women had strong desires which they kept hidden, she pondered in her present stage of craving. She felt so deprived! So lonely!

Nonetheless, her thoughts were quickly broken when Varun suddenly started to cry. Yes, it was now time for him to suckle milk from his mother’s breasts and Sonam got up hurriedly. She came near the crib and, uttering sweet words to her baby, picked him up and took her to bed. She had parted the soft nightie in the front and held the right cup of her bra and lowered it to free her breasts. Holding her breast near the areola, she pushed her oozing nipple inside the baby’s greedy mouth. Sounds of the baby’s suckling, even if these were soft, could be heard.

Sonam was content, she just brushed Varun’s tiny head and the little hair on it and softly sang a lullaby. Sonam looked so very appealing, the perfect picture of a mother suckling her child, a live image of DaVinci’s eternal masterpiece ‘Litta Madonna’. She had wished that even Nihal would possibly want to suckle a breast and the thought had excited her, but now she knew that was an impossible wish. Her husband was completely indifferent to these things, she felt.

Shortly, with both her baby and husband asleep, Sonam also started feeling sleepy. By now, her physical desires had somewhat subsided but not entirely gone. She shrugged her shoulders, realizing that it would be best to retire for the night and catch up on sleep.

But first, she went to the attached toilet. It was really a very modern bathroom, carved in beautiful marble and a bathtub big enough to accommodate a couple. The flooring, plumbing material and appliances, soaps and fragrances were by Sonam’s own standards, exquisite. Inwardly, she was happy and could not help but admire the patriarch – for it was he who would have planned and arranged this extravaganza. Inwardly,

Sonam was very happy, for she guessed that the patriarch must have kept his affectionate ‘bahu’ in mind when the bathroom was being readied for the young couple. It was always a nice feeling to find oneself loved in her ‘sasural’ (in-laws house) and worthy of getting attention.

Inside the toilet, Sonam knew that her husband was now asleep and there was full privacy in the room. She didn’t bother to shut the door of the toilet. Nimbly, she lifted her nightie that revealed the curly bush covering her crotch. Her public hair was jet black and somewhat thick and, even at a distance, anyone would be able to make out the triangular dark area. She sat on the commode, her shapely legs on both sides, as she started to relieve herself.

For no specific reason, just then Sonam was swept in an unexplained uneasiness. She imagined she was being watched, that her actions inside the bathroom were privy to someone’s eyes and she was overcome with a sense of shame and apprehension. But logic and reason came to her aid. How could anyone possibly watch her here. This was as enclosed and secluded that it had privacy written all over it. Her initial fear quickly left, for she knew no one would have the courage to dare do anything mischievous when the patriarch was there.

The only thing that embarrassed her now was the noise that usually accompanied in such situations. She would pee after very long intervals when her bladder was stretched to its limit and relief came about at the expense of embarrassing hissing sounds. She had an uncanny feeling and wished that she had shut the door of the toilet, because she was embarrassed when this happened in the presence of her husband too. But it was too late now, as she had already commenced emptying her bladder.

Once she had finished and had washed that area of her body she went and lay down on the bed beside her husband. Her thoughts went back to her physical needs and involuntarily, a hand went towards her vulva as she ran a finger along the slit. She liked her finger at the place, rubbing her vagina softly at first before she had inserted a finger into the wetness. She consoled herself, her need was far from satisfied. She was starving for the male phallus as she moaned and moaned. She forgot that her moans were no longer soft and that it revealed the needs of a horny housewife. Her wild imaginations took her to a different world, and she thought of the pleasures of sex that a virile and only a strong man could give her.

Without warning, a known face of a man who was just over fifty years with his rugged, rustic, broad shouldered, dark complexioned and dhoti clad manly figure, loomed in her thoughts. She wasn’t even aware that she was whispering a name, a name that fired her imagination – ‘Babuji, Babuji …,’ her voice certainly loud in the end till she came out of her stupor. Oh my god, what was she thinking. How shameful! She quickly admonished herself for having these wicked thoughts. How could she ever have this thought, she wondered annoyed at herself. She turned to see if her husband was asleep or had awakened by her incessant chants and moaning and was relieved when she found that he was still snoring away. Thank God!

But Sonam felt terribly ashamed to have had this crazy thought cross her mind. How could she? And how would she ever face the man the next day when she knew that this wild, horny, lustful imagination revolved around him and her?

At what point she fell asleep she didn’t know, but when she awoke it was almost morning. She quickly came to the cot and picked up Varun lovingly in her bosom. On the bed, she parted the soft nightie once again and fed the nipple to her baby who hungrily suckled her milk. Soon Varun was asleep in bed and she turned and saw her husband sleeping peacefully. She kissed him on his lips.

“Get up, get up … it’s already morning,” Sonam said.

“Aw, Sonam, let me sleep sometime more,” Nihal appealed lazily.

But soon they were up and getting ready. During her bath Sonam recollected the events of the previous night and blushed when she remembered how she had thought about someone else. But, like previously, she quickly pushed the thought away.

Yet, downstairs at breakfast, she could hardly look at the patriarch. Somehow, she had a sense of guilt creeping in although she did nothing at all except unmindfully thinking of him. But now, at the dining table, she stole glances at the patriarch. She saw his wide wrists holding up the large tumbler of milk, the wide shoulders holding up the unbuttoned kurta, and his partly visible chest with the thick mix of black and grey hair.

Even as she sat, there could be no doubt that her father-in-law was a stretch taller than the rest. So rugged and manly, Sonam thought once again. Suddenly, Balwant looked at Sonam. She blushed and quickly looked away. Quickly, she finished her light breakfast before she got up and went to attend to Varun.

The rest of the day was busily spent. Nihal had many things to purchase and he and Sonam took the patriarch’s permission and went to do the marketing. They had lunch outside, with the patriarch’s permission of course. He had some reservations, however, because that was the last day Nihal would be having lunch at home before he left the next day. Nonetheless, when Sonam softly said, “Babuji, please allow us. This will be the last time I will have lunch outside with him before he returns and that too I don’t know when.”

Possibly, only it was only because Sonam had appealed to him that the rigid man agreed. Sonam felt happy when the patriarch gave permission and was instantly grateful to him. Sonam realized that she was slowly taking a liking towards this man instead of her earlier fear and indifference. Anyway, when she and Nihal returned in the evening they were very tired and quickly completed whatever packing was left before coming down to dinner.

Dinner was not a very enjoyable one for any of the members of the household. Everyone, starting from the patriarch to all the family members and the house staff, felt sad at the imminent departure of Nihal. Nihal and Sonam sat beside one another, trying to make the most out of the last dinner before departure. The patriarch, surprisingly, came and sat beside her instead of sitting on the one next to Nihal. She took it as a gesture of his love and affection, possibly sympathising with her sadness at Nihal’s imminent departure the next morning.

Back in their bedroom after dinner, with the door bolted, Nihal and Sonam kissed one another very deeply and passionately. Nihal ran his hand over his wife’s soft buttocks, squeezing them a bit as he pushed in his tongue into her mouth. Sonam was overjoyed at this display of love and passion and responded by sucking his tongue. Soon, their tongues swirled against one another and saliva trickled down the corner of their lips.

“I love you Sonam, I really do,” Nihal said emotionally, “and I shall miss you very much.”

Sonam too cried out, “I love you too my darling. Oh! How I shall miss you. Take me to you soon if you can … and if Babuji allows it.”

“I want to drink your milk tonight honey. Your breasts are so full. They must be seeking relief,” Nihal said, “Oh! I will miss this lovely pair.”

They were quickly undressing, each helping the other, till both were fully naked. Nihal ran a hand on the thick bush of Sonam, playing with the lustrous curly hair.

“Mmmmm … so lovely,” he said. They were both standing very near to the connecting door between the two bedrooms, forgetting that there was another occupant, immobile and but attentive in the next room.

Soon, they were on the bed with Nihal resting his head on Sonam’s lap while she bent down and holding the end of her right breast pushed in the nipple into his mouth.

“Hungry baby … take mother’s milk,” she said laughingly as she squeezed her breast herself. Milk rushed into her husband’s mouth and he made erotic noises, suckling whatever was offered. His phallus was already on the rise, and Sonam let her hand hold it so that it didn’t sway any more. She squeezed it a few times before running her thumb on the tip. Nihal was squirming crazily, it was too much of an excitement for him. He suckled roughly on the nipples, moving his mouth from one to the other, pressed the breasts to push out more milk and repeated his ‘oooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ in succession.

“Sonam … I must have my cock in you this instant … or I’ll again cum like yesterday,” he said desperately.

Sonam was the obedient wife, trying to help and satisfy her husband. She quickly lay on her back, almost ready for copulation. As Nihal came over her, she held his manhood and guided it to her wet pussy. In moments, her pussy had swallowed the modest cock and Nihal proceeded to bang his shaft into it. They gripped one another, kissing and biting each other’s lips. Sonam was waiting for this union for a long time and she dug in her nails on her husband’s back.

“Take this … and this ..and this, my sexy wife,” he was uttering loudly and Sonam feared that the words were floating into the next room. But she didn’t have to fear for long.

Nihal couldn’t wait any more and, in his frenzy, he started to ejaculate inside her. Little spurts hit the walls of Sonam’s pussy and she, although disappointed at this quick ejaculation, basked in the pleasure of her husband’s cum filling her. They breathed heavily when they were spent.

“You realize that this place of mine that you love so much will cry for the next six months at least, if not more? I don’t know how I’ll bear it. Such a long wait! It would be so painful to stay without you,” Sonam cried.

Nihal didn’t have any words to comfort or reassure her. There could be no substitute for a woman’s husband and she would have to bear the vacuum till they were together again.

“I know dearest, I know. I can’t promise but I’ll surely try to be here after six months. Please bear with me and keep yourself busy with Varun. And I am sure Papa, Uncle Anurudh and Aunt Anjali will take good care of you,” he said to comfort her. “And besides, you’ll always have Matasari to help you with Varun.”

“Yes, you are right. Varun gets up frequently at night and keeps me awake. Matasari can attend to him during the night,” Sonam said while agreeing with Nihal.

“Rather, I will suggest that after you last breast feed Varun at night, let Matasari attend while Varun sleeps in the cot. The cot will be in her room. In the morning she’ll bring back Varun to you. In that way you can sleep undisturbed.” Said Nihal. Then, after some thought, he said, “I’ll tell Papa about this and then he can get this arrangement done.”

The next afternoon Nihal left. Sonam silently cried and Anjali came and comforted her. Everyone felt sad, even the patriarch who usually showed little emotion outwardly. The maids and servants too couldn’t hide their sadness.

Towards the evening Matasari came to her room and cradled Varun in her arms, rocking him and uttering sweet nothings.

“Madam, the Master wants that after Varun has been fed at night, he should sleep in my room, so that you can sleep undisturbed. The servants will come and take the cot upstairs to my room. I’ll bring back the baby by 6.00 AM before his morning breast feed,” Matasari said in a while.

Sonam realised that Nihal must have spoken to Babuji. She knew that it would be useless opposing and kept quiet, hoping that the arrangements would be reversed after a few days. After fifteen minutes the servants came and took away the cot.

Before dinner Sonam dressed nicely, a magenta colored chiffon sari and a sleeveless blouse to go with it because Nihal always insisted on sleeveless blouses. Her petticoat was similarly of magenta color, but she wore white lingerie, an exotic pair that Nihal had selected for her. She became a typical bahu, by covering her head with her pallu (end of the saree used as a stole). The mangalsutra (a necklace that symbolizes marriage and is worn by a bride till her husband’s death) around the neck, however, was clearly visible as she came down for dinner. As she entered the dining room, everyone looked at her

admiringly. The look on the patriarch’s face was even more pronounced as he gaped for a few moments before recovering.

“Come Bahu,” he said, patting the chair beside him, “your place at the dining table is here.”

Sonam came and demurely sat down beside the patriarch. She would have been happier and felt easier if she could sit beside Anjali.

“Are you feeling sad Bahu?” the patriarch asked.

“A little, Babuji,” Sonam said softly. What a question! She could already feel a lump in her throat, but she stifled her cry.

“You’ll be okay in a couple of days, I am sure of that. You will surely overcome and feel different and happier,” Balwant, the patriarch said.

The patriarch pampered Sonam, entreating her to take more of sabji (vegetables), or roti (thin, round, Indian wheat bread) or sweets, pointing to the plates that were laid out on the table. But Sonam was a frugal eater, conscious of her figure. She declined politely.

“For our grandchild, you must eat. Take this sweet … you must,” he smiled and insisted, but when he extended his hand it touched the delicate softness of Sonam’s, who had extended her hand to prevent him from adding more on her plate.

Then, at one stage, he put his arm on the backrest of Sonam’s chair and once or twice, his arm grazed Sonam’s shoulders. Just when Sonam got up after meals he also got up, almost simultaneously, and his chest touched Sonam’s soft breasts. Everything seemed unintentional and purely by accident and no one might have seen it also. But Sonam felt a trigger on her sensual nerves, her face flushed in uneasiness. The patriarch, however, remained indifferent and no one, not even Sonam, was the wiser.

After dinner the entire family watched TV for a while before the patriarch said that it was time for all to retire and insisting on immediate compliance. Besides, as he said in finality, Varun would have to be fed by his mother.

In the privacy of her room Sonam fed her breast milk to Varun. Just when he had finished and fell asleep, Matasari had come to take him to her room. Sonam felt bad but handed over her baby to Matasari for the night, telling her to get him back at 6.00 in the morning.

Alone in her room Sonam sat on the bed thinking of Nihal. Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she got up and changed into her nightie. Having done so, she sat in front of the mirror, and started brushing her silky hair. Her shapely legs crossed over each other, partly covered in the soft fabric of her nightie and partly exposed. The young Sonam looked at herself in the mirror not knowing that a silent admirer was just few feet away in the next room, his mouth drooling in need and lust.

Balwant

Despite the lust that had engulfed him, Balwant was pained to see the incompetence of his son. Such a sexy wife, such a woman full of desires, a woman far from satiated and crying for attention and there was his progeny, blissfully sleeping without a care! He wished he could punish his son, give him a hiding like he did when he was a lad. He cursed and swore.

Just at that moment he saw Sonam getting up from bed and walk up to the crib, lift her baby and return to the bed. Soon she was breastfeeding her hungry son.

Balwant watched his bahu feed Varun, shifting his head now and then to get a better view. The light brown engorged nipple sent a shiver through Balwant. He involuntarily rolled his tongue over his lips wondering how it would be to taste this engorgement that continued unabated. He visualized the nipples between his lips, squeezing them to extract the white ‘honey’ that he sought. Oh god! If only he could lie on her lap and suckle from the juicy gMolestations that were so beautifully carved and giving her bust such an awesome shape.

Sonam, unaware, continued feeding and staring at her son. There was so much love in her face as her fingers stroked the infant’s head. She was so caring, expressing her love for the child that was born out of her womb. She shifted Varun from one breast to another, exposing the one that had been fed upon without cover. The shapely breast was in full display with the nipples standing proudly on them. The patriarch gaped, the sight making him more restless than before. But, he had moored himself at the spot.

He watched Sonam finish feeding and then patted Varun on his back for a customary burp.

Soon, she was getting ready for the night, changing into her usual nightwear. As she parted with every item of her apparel, each moment only helped to excite the middle aged man. In the final stage, she had unhooked her bra and finally slid her panties down her legs and stood out of it. For a moment, she was stark naked.

The patriarch would have loved to walk in and hold that soft, delicate body of his bahu. God! Oh god! How well she has been endowed with, he thought. But quickly as she became naked, just as quickly she had put on her nightie. To Balwant, by wearing that apparel she wasn’t fully naked but, oh heavens, she was no less enticing, no less desirable and each contour of her body seemed well defined underneath.

Lying on bed, Sonam appeared restless, unsure of what to do next. With her husband fast asleep and her son fed and quietly sleeping, she just fiddled with her fingers before Balwant saw her getting up and start combing her lustrous hair. Soon, Balwant could see her walking into the bathroom that adjoined the two bedrooms. It was here that the patriarch had conjured something else as well. An inconspicuous tiny gap had been deliberately created into one of the wooden panels. To some one unaware, it would always escape notice. He rushed towards it now, careful not to make a sound.

He had hardly placed his eyes at the opening when he heard a hissing sound, that of water gushing out from a fissure. In the silence of the night, the sound was unmistakable. Peeing ..was she …? His heart thumped much too fast. Oh god! Help me, he thought. Let me look away, let me respect her privacy! He turned, resolved to walk away.

But the sound become louder, as she emptied her bladder in full force. He paused, fervently trying again to resist the temptation. But his lust and passion had taken a stranglehold on his senses. He shook his head, surrendering to what was unthinkable of a father-in-law, and placed his eyes over the opening in the door as stealthily as he could.

He gaped at the amazing view before him. At a short distance, his lovely bahu was perched on the toilet. Her nightie was rolled up to her waist, her smooth thighs were wide open, and her shapely legs and dainty feet rested on her toes. Each nail on her feet were brightly polished a crimson red and Balwant was almost delirious in an overwhelming need to kiss each of them.

Because of his height and the vantage point he could gleefully witness the stream of pee jetting its way into the pot, emanating a variety of sounds. She had a full bladder, for it took time till it slowed down and went into a dribble. The sound seemed to mesmerize Balwant, until she stood up. Her sculpted thighs had possibly added a couple of inches in childbearing but, to Balwant, these couldn’t be shapelier. Her butt curves were clearly visible, now that she stood up, and the patriarch gaped open mouth at the shape and the crack that parted the curves.

Somewhere hid her bud, the tempting third hole, the one that women are reluctant to yield. In a fleeting second, Balwant imagined ravaging that one too, a craving that had jumped notches now that he had seen it! He looked down at the dhoti that he was wearing. He was making a mess of it, drenched as it was in the unstoppable pre-cum of his robust organ. Quickly, he placed his eyes back where they were. He had to quench the thirst of his lust filled eyes.

As she cleaned herself, she turned around facing the door. The patriarch was breathing heavily, even risking that she may guess something amiss and look up. But his lust did not permit him to leave. He stayed put. His cock now harder than before, throbbing underneath his dhoti and wanting, as he saw her darkened triangle.

The dark, curly, public hair were rich and perhaps a little trimmed, Balwant guessed. His eyes pierced through, aching to see more, but she turned away after cleaning herself and left the bathroom after flushing the toilet. But, for a while, Balwant’s hands continued to stroke his hardness, and seeing his own organ he was reminded of his heydays. It was after a long, long time that he was aroused so much, and he was inwardly praising his bahu to have brought back what he was so proud of at one time. He was a ‘mard’ (a virile man) and he was proud of it.

Waiting for a few moments, he was back at his previous lookout, almost like a predator who had identified his prey and didn’t want to let her out of her sight. He was peering into the main bedroom again.

In one moment, he could guess that his loving bahu was restless. There was no doubt in his mind and he was curious to find out more. He stayed put with his hands on his firm phallus, which he continued to stroke vigorously.

The night was to become a revelation, almost hallucinatory to an extent, to the patriarch. His eyes remained glued on his daughter-in-law, as she lay on her bed, alone and lost in thought. She just squirmed on the white linen bed-sheet for a few moments before she had pulled up her nightie up to the waist and began tapping her fingers over her vulva before playing at the yawning crevice that lay in between.

In a flash she had inserted a finger inside the vagina, softly playing on it at first before the finger moved faster and faster, inserting and withdrawing in quick succession. Suddenly, she stopped but the finger remained inside. Inserting another finger, she was moaning and squirming, throwing her legs about and Balwant guessed that she could be pushing and squeezing her clit with the inserted fingers.

He peeked in awe and lust as he watched her restless movements with her eyes closed. She raised her pelvis, possibly imagining her lover and meeting his cock. He heard her moan and cry out unintelligible and incoherent words. Maybe she was calling out her lover, thought Balwant.

He stroked hard, feeling the pressure build within his groin. His balls strained inside the scrotum, the cock ever so sensitive at its widest and the longest.

She was thrashing her body left and right, words becoming so guttural and incessant in her rants that Balwant could hardly make out any meaning or name. She heaved herself up and down, here and there on the bed. But whatever she did, her finger remained embedded and anchored. Her face contorted as she went over the cliff in her desire and passion. Oh god! She was in so much heat and yet she would have to spend so many months without her husband, Balwant kept pondering.

At one moment, Sonam had withdrawn her wet fingers, staring intently at them for a moment before taking it in her mouth to taste her own sex. Quickly, she inserted her finger back inside her gaping and hungry vagina.

Balwant was a witness to all her actions, following her deep arousal intently, while pumping hard on his own robust organ, pushing his pelvis forward and backward till, suddenly, he shot out his jism with a guttural moan. “Bahuuuu”. His voice trailed even in silence, as he ejaculated time after time, hitting all his goo into the door panel in front. He continued pumping to release the last drop until he was spent, and the pleasure of his orgasm seeped through his body and soul.

Even in his wildest imagination he hadn’t thought that women would frig themselves as men did.

He watched his bahu put her own hand over her mouth after her orgasm, realizing that she was calling someone aloud at the height of her arousal. Not moving, she appeared rested and in peace. Her eyes closed, she slowly covered herself with her blanket and slowly drifted into peaceful sleep. Balwant, drained but still not exhausted, stayed on till he was sure that Sonam was asleep. He turned and went back to his bed. In moments, he had crashed into bed and, within a few minutes, he was fast asleep.

Balwant rolled over early at five in the morning the next day, as he always did. The dhoti was in disarray. He felt the familiar morning tugs of his hard-on. Lying on his side, his engorged monster of an organ lay nestled within his thighs. He recollected the events of the previous night, the scenes quickly unfolding once again in his memory. Instantly, he felt a surge of blood flowing through the veins of his phallus, enlarging it somewhat.

He remained in the bed, not willing to get out of the cover of the warm blanket that covered him. Sonam was wrecking his perverted mind and he simply couldn’t get her off her head. Oh! How she had played with herself in bed, and even how she had relieved her bladder in the toilet! The very thought sent the blood rushing in again. Like a teenage boy he had his shaft in his hand again, rubbing the hardness himself.

The next day moved at a hectic pace. It was the last day the couple would spend together, and Balwant didn’t object to their having lunch outside or spending some moments outside the busy household.

That night the patriarch was not feeling well. Having remained in just his light dhoti in the bitter cold of north India the previous night, albeit inside his bedroom, he had a slight fever. He resisted the temptation to take up his post at the door and watch his bahu copulate with her husband. Besides, he was certain that the couple would avail of this last opportunity before departure and knew too well that the outcome would be similar.

His son would fail once again and leave his wife to cry. Balwant knew he would get numerous opportunities later, of this he was certain. Months, in fact, to satiate his lascivious mind and savour the beauty of this irresistible woman.

Balwant came down much later the following morning. He felt much better after a good night’s sleep and some ayurvedic medicines that he had taken when he started feeling ill the previous day.

To his surprise, even though Sonam continued to be shy, she was trying to come out of her shell. Her earlier hesitations seemed to have lessened and she talked much freely now when they were together. Sometimes she would be seeking his approval, sometimes she would demurely reply to questions that he posed, even smiling with those pearly white teeth.

Nihal left that evening for the airport and journey abroad. Like all departures, the parting was painful. Sonam was full of tears but, to the patriarch, even that made her look beautiful. She was unable to stay at the gate even for a moment after Nihal left, almost running inside with Varun, as soon as the car accelerated. Anjali hurried to pacify her, wanting to share some of her loneliness.

Balwant also felt sad at his son’s departure. He felt sad for his bahu too but, in all fairness, it was because she would feel lonely and not for any other reason. Dinner didn’t take much time but Nihal’s empty chair made his absence look harsher and gloomy. Frankly, it brought about a lump even in the impassive patriarch. He stayed in the living room for some time after dinner, allowing the household to pass into silence with everyone retiring to their respective rooms. He got up in the end as he himself felt like like retiring for the night. Walking to his room, he decided to check with his daughter-in-law before turning in.

“Bahu?” He knocked on the partition door that separated the two rooms.

There was pause and then he heard shuffling feet before the door opened. Her eyes moist and lowered. She was wearing a nightie, but she had pulled on a ‘dupatta’ (a sort of stole) across her top to cover her chest.

“Babuji…,” her voice couldn’t hide her sorrow.

“Bahu, are you okay?” His voice laden with concern.

“Yes Babuji…” Her words trailed on, as if she wanted to say something.

“Tell me. Do not be shy,” Balwant waited.

“Babuji… Varun”

Balwant was concerned. “Is he alright?”

Her eyes looked up and met Balwant’s. “Yes. Yes. He is fine. He is with Matasari, just like you said.”

“So…?” He knew that his grandson would be with the maid.

Her face showed anguish of a mother without his offspring.

“I am feeling…alone.. and ahh..lonely,” she sniffled a sob,”I miss my son and want to hold him in my arms.”

At that point it struck Balwant that he should not have asked the maid to keep the child with her for the night. The infant should have remained in her room with his mother. How could he take such a heartless decision? He looked at her face. The intensity of her anguish was unmistakable.

He watched a teardrop that was about to trickle down her cheek. Lifting a finger, Balwant wiped the nascent tear from his bahu’s face. He raised both hands and held her face.

“You should never hesitate to ask about anything, Bahu,” he consoled her, “Your babuji is always here. Remember that.”

Balwant Singh ran a hand over Sonam’s head, consoling her, comforting her. He drew himself nearer, held her for some time with an arm around her as he tried to absorb her sorrow with empathy and feeling. She made no effort to move away but stayed still, except for her sobs. In a while, Balwant saw that she had almost stopped weeping. She was now taking deep breaths which Balwant thought were because of her weeping heart. Balwant too breathed heavily, before he moved away from her.

“Babuji…,” she whispered, as if reminding the man to act on the decision to bring back the child to her.

“Yes. Yes. I will take care. You take care of yourself, Bahu,” he assured her.

Turning briskly, he called out to Matasari and bellowed instructions.

“Bring Varun back to Bahu’s room. I want him to be with her in the night … all nights, do you hear me?” he instructed, “If she ever needs your help she will ask for it. Now hurry up.”

“Yes, Malik (Master)!” She said obediently.

Matasari bowed and hurried back to her room and picked up Varun. Holding Varun in her arms she dashed back till she came and knocked at Sonam bedroom. She saw the patriarch standing like a sentry in front of her door, wanting to see for himself that his command had been complied with.

“Oh! My baby, my baby,” cried Sonam as she got Varun back in her arms. Even a separation of few minutes was too much for her. She had raised her eyes and saw her father-in-law at the door. Her eyes met with Balwant’s and she was overcome with a sense of gratitude and happiness. There was a faint smile on her lips and Balwant just nodded his head.

“Thank you babuji. I will sleep better tonight,” Sonam said after Matasari walked out of her room.

“Very good bahu. You take care of my grandson. Keep him well fed.”

“Yes Babuji.” She was warming up to her father-in-law.

“And please remember, I do not want you to feel lonely. This is your home and you should never think otherwise. Nihal may have left, but we are all here. I am here.” He was caring just as much as he was forceful in his words.

“Yes Babuji,” whispered Sonam.

He drew closer to mother and son and ran his fingers over his grandson’s head, and then whispered almost in an undertone, “Anytime… anything…you need…” he paused,” you will knock on that door.” He motioned to the partition door inside her bedroom that separated their respective rooms.

She was silent for a moment, trying to absorb the import of what he had whispered. A lump formed in her throat as she was almost inaudible “Yes, Babuji”.

She looked at him for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes, before she brought her face down, overcome with shyness.

“Live well, live long, Bahu,” he blessed her, before he turned and walked out of the room.

Sonam

Having finished her dinner Sonam returned to her room with a heavy heart. Tears welled up in her eyes as thoughts of her husband came to mind when she retired to her room. She breast-fed her baby and, kissing the infant, she was about to place him on the bed when Matasari, the maid, arrived. Exchanging a few words, she secured the child in her arms and walked out of the room. The loneliness of the young bahu was complete.

With neither her husband nor her child. She regretted having agreed to allow her baby to sleep with Matasari at night and wondered how she would pass so many nights alone in the big bedroom. And to make it worse, she could never sleep alone!

She shook her head and then got up from her bed. No use crying now, she felt and prepared to go to sleep. Changing into her nightie, she sat on the bed combing her hair. Just then, she heard a faint knock on the partition door. Since this came from her father-in-law’s room, she didn’t feel scared, knowing it was her caring and respected Babuji himself. She got up and hurriedly placed a dupatta across her bosom and quickly walked across to open the door. To be honest, normally, in this nightie she would have worn her housecoat on top in front of anyone other than her husband.

Strangely, she only placed her dupatta for her father-in-law. Was it because she didn’t want to keep her respected father-in-law waiting or did she think him to be just as close and dear? She really didn’t have an answer. Sonam opened the door and then respectfully stood aside, allowing the towering man to step in.

Sonam only looked at the floor as she respectfully whispered, ‘Babuji’. She was the obedient bahu, enquiring of her father-in-law if he required anything, or if she had any task to do. But there was a hidden sadness when she addressed her father.

“Babuji, I am feeling…so sad… and ahh…alone …and ah ..ah.. lonely,” she sniffled a sob, “I miss my son and want to hold my little baby in my arms.”

Her father in law was immediately sympathetic. She began weeping, bursting into tears that trickled down her cheeks. The patriarch was moved when Sonam cried in this manner and stood in front of her. Holding her face in both hands, he lifted Sonam’s face and looked into her tearful eyes.

Initially, Sonam felt a bit uneasy. This was so very romantic, one which happened more among lovers than in the relationship she had with this man. He wiped a tear and almost breathed into her face. Sonam could inhale the nice smell of the betal leaf that the patriarch usually chewed after dinner. Her eyes almost closed.

The towering man’s words of concern were so comforting to Sonam. Once he got to know the reasons for her sorrow he had immediately barked an order, sufficiently aloud, for the maid to bring back the infant baby to the bahu’s room.

The moment Sonam heard him calling out for the maid she quickly picked up the housecoat lying on the bed and wore it over the nightie. What would Matasari think of her? A bahu in this flimsy dress in front of her father-in-law? Sonam was surprised at her own behaviour – she was ashamed to be dressed in the nightie in front of Matasari, a woman, while she did not appear to be at all ashamed standing in front of the head of the head of the family, the patriarch! She had only placed the light dupatta to cover her breasts!

The maid brought the baby and, seeing the master, she quickly left after handing over the child to Sonam. The young mother was relieved and happy and crazily hugged her baby, cuddling and kissing him, in a show of unending affection in front of her father-in-law.

“Thank you Babuji,” she said at last, grateful to the man who had made that possible. The more she saw the man, the more Sonam warmed up to him.

She could feel an undercurrent of belonging to this haveli, this family and particularly, this man. He was no longer that distant, aloof and imposing father-in-law anymore. He didn’t have that serious face all the time. Rather, he only advised her to take good care of the child and see that he was fed timely. He even told Sonam not to feel lonely and to consider the haveli as her true home. So caring of him, Sonam thought.

Before leaving the room, Balwant came and stood in front of Sonam and her child. He patted his grandson on the head, ruffling the sparse hair that it had on his infant head, twitching the tiny cheeks. He was very happy and proud, of this Sonam was sure. Then, just before leaving the bedroom, he turned and looked at Sonam. What he said made Sonam think over again and again. The words were so mysterious and yet so meaningful, thought Sonam.

“Anytime … anything …you need,” he had paused before continuing, “you will knock on that door. I will be there in that room, right beside you my bahu.”

He had motioned to the partition door and had said these words in a hoarse whisper. It didn’t escape Sonam’s notice that her father-in-law had added ‘my’ to the way he addressed her. May be it was a slip, may be she shouldn’t put too much meaning in it. But, nonetheless, Sonam blushed before she could respond.

Shyly, she whispered, “Yes, Babuji. I know.”

Both looked into each other’s eyes deeply, absorbing the impact of the words before the patriarch turned and left, closing the partition door behind him.

Sonam sat on the bed for five minutes, still trying to fathom the import of the words of her Babuji. Then slowly, she got up and, walking up to the door, secured the latch. She was now in the privacy of her bedroom and, except for the man in the next room, there was no one else on that floor, excepting her six weeks old child.

The haveli was a big place and had numerous rooms but lacked the numbers to occupy this surfeit of accommodation. The haveli was otherwise secured, and the servants and maids mostly occupied the rooms in the backyard. The top floor was occupied by Anurudh and Anjali. Matasari too had a room on this floor. The first floor was the one where Sonam had her bedroom and, of course, her father-in-law.

Sonam, however, was scared. She was the fearful type, something that grew on her since childhood. To be honest, Sonam got scared easily and even at Patna she had a habit of sleeping with her mother. She feared sleeping alone, awoke at the faintest of noises, was terrified at the cracking sounds of lightning, and once you grow into this fear you can rarely come out of it. These traits were not unknown to her own parents and now even her husband Nihal knew about it. But none of them were beside her now, nor anyone be beside her in the days that would follow and that caused her a great deal of worry.

Lying down on her bed Sonam kept thinking of Nihal and what he would be doing now. Was he on board the aircraft soaring in the sky or was he still waiting for the international flight to take off? Her baby had already taken her breast milk around eleven o’clock so Sonam was relieved that nothing had to be done immediately. Of course, sometime around three he might be feeling hungry and then he would be taking milk again.

Sonam kept thinking how the day had passed and how it felt when her husband left. She thought of Anjali Aunty and how she came and stood beside her when the car with Nihal sped off. Also, she recollected Uncle Anurudh telling her, “No crying Sonam Beti.” But, most of all, one person occupied a greater part of her thoughts and he was her father in law.

His behaviour was so very comforting that she knew her days might not be as sad as she had apprehended when she left Patna. He would take good care of her and give her due attention, of this she was certain. She also thought of the intimate moment when he wiped her tears and came nearer, almost hugging her. He had placed an arm around her, ran them down her arm once and comforted her. At that moment, she hadn’t thought of anything.

But now, alone in her room, she felt nice recollecting those intimate minutes with her father-in-law. That arm around her seemed so strong and reassuring, an arm that could instantly console and comfort. She felt a tingling sensation run through her body. God! What was happening to her, thought Sonam. She quickly turned her thoughts away … away to her son, and far away to Nihal.

At what point Sonam fell asleep she did not know but she awoke suddenly. Two or three deafening sounds, that of lightning, had awoken her. It could rain any moment, for she could feel the howling winds. Unseasonal rains would mean a further fall in temperature, Sonam was alarmed. The lightning awoke Varun too, who started to cry out loudly. No matter how much Sonam patted her, he went on wailing as the crackling sounds continued unabated. She too was scared, just like she always did since childhood. She wished someone could have stayed in her room.

At that instant she heard a knock on the partition door, softly at first but then more urgently. Soon Babuji’s voice could be heard.

“Bahu, Bahu! What happened? Why is Varun crying so much? Please tell me. Please open the door … I am worried,” Balwant was imploring her to speak.

Sonam quickly got up from bed but in her hurry, she forgot to put any cover over her nightie. The skimpy nightie was hardly anything to hide her very sexy and desirable body, not to mention her very appealing breasts. She just came and opened the door.

“I think he woke up because of the lightning,” Sonam said softly.

“No, I think he may be hungry. Won’t you feed her now Bahu?” he asked.

Sonam hadn’t been able to say this and so had said about the lightning. But she too knew that the child would not stop till he had her nipples in his mouth.

“Feed her Bahu, he is hungry,” the father-in-law insisted. He was looking at Sonam’s breasts and she blushed and quickly turned so that the breasts were out of his sight.

“Yes Babuji,” whispered Sonam.

Just then heavy gusts of wind started blowing and a window pane flung open. Lightning crackled repeatedly.

“I am so scared Babuji,” Sonam said honestly.

“This is just lightning. Don’t be afraid. But if you are so scared … you keep the partition door open, so you will at least feel someone is nearby. Will that be ok?” Balwant asked.

Sonam thought for a while before she nodded her head.

Balwant

The loud crack of lightning shook Balwant out of his sleep. He stayed awake for a while and then heard the wailing child in the next room. Balwant got up immediately. He heard his bahu trying to pacify his grandson. The frequent crack of lightning led to more cries and it seemed Sonam was having a hard time.

Balwant paced his room up and down, not wanting to barge into his bahu’s room at that time of the night. With each cry his heart went out to his grandson. He felt for Sonam too, wondering how she would be able to care of everything herself.

And then abruptly, without further thought, he knocked on the intervening door. By now, the crying had become louder. He knocked again this time with distinct emphasis. He called out to know the reason and to offer possible help. Soon, the door opened slowly and Balwant saw Sonam. The sheer nightie hugged her as she tried desperately to cajole and quieten her son. Balwant reached out to take the baby in his arms and to pacify him.

Sonam was no longer wearing a duppata across her breasts and to Balwant she looked like a beautiful goddess, a desirous woman with a child in her arms, her hair somewhat ruffled giving her a sensual aura that Balwant found difficult to look away from. He was now very close to his daughter-in-law.

He could inhale a fragrance that fired his loins and he kept looking at her unkempt hair, her disarrayed nightie which gave glimpses of her ample and alluring breasts, her soft smooth skin undulating from her face till the top of her nightie and all that could tempt any man, not just Balwant himself.

Balwant stood there mesmerized at what he saw, forgetting that it was improper of him to do so. He turned his face away and instinctively tried to pacify his grandson. But his eyes flickered and traversed from grandson to bahu.

“Bahu…”he said at last.

“Jee Babuji”

“Varun is hungry…”

Sonam looked up to Balwant, not sure how to answer to the patriarch.

“Babuji..” She paused. Her shyness barring her from speaking out.

Balwant’s rough fingers continued to stroke his grandson. The child’s cries simmered down a notch.

“I can tell that he is hungry.” Balwant was adamant.

“But babuji… I..I fed him a little while ago,” Sonam tried to convince her father-in-law.

“Then why is he crying?” Exasperation seemed to coat his words.

“Babuji.. It must be this lightning. He started crying when it began,” Sonam tried to explain.

Meanwhile the rain was still pelting, but the thunder had calmed down a little.

“Possible..but you should know that little ones have a small stomach and they get hungry very quickly. I hope that you feed him often enough,” Balwant went on.

This talk about feeding was embarrassing Sonam. But she stayed put where she was.

One, for he was comforting her son and two, she did not dare move away without taking permission or being asked to move.

“Babuji… I do. He always cries out aloud when he is hungry.”

A sudden bolt of lightning lit up the room for a second, quickly followed by a loud thunder. Balwant heard her shriek before the scared bahu almost fell into his chest. Varun started crying aloud once again, afraid. Balwant opened his arms and engulfed both his bahu and the child in his arms, giving them comfort and protection. Sonam dug her face into Balwant’s wide chest while the recurrent thunder continued. Varun too found comfort, and his wailing subsided.

They just stood there, a step or two inside Sonam’s room, waiting for the thunder to pass and Varun to calm down.

“Bahu…” he whispered, the two bodies still pressed together, and Varun wedged in safety.

“Babuji?” he heard his bahu’s soft voice.

“Are you okay?”

There was a cackle of thunder again.

“I am afraid …I am scared, Babuji.”

“Don’t be. I am here” He said emphatically, trying to assure her that he was there to take care of her as well his grandson.

She nodded. She was feeling safe in his arms. The man she had felt so alien even a couple of days back was now so close to her and providing everything she needed. Her comfort, safety and security.

“I am not sure that I will be able to sleep alone in this weather,” The urgency in those words did not escape Babuji.

Balwant held them close to himself. His arms could feel her soft body. The sides of her breasts squeezed into his chest. What if her nipples rested on his chest? He quickly brushed the thought away. Yet, the feeling of her soft touches was soothing and gave him pleasure. He wanted this to continue for some more time.

Balwant’s thoughts wavered. Was it right? She was his bahu and it was his duty to protect her dignity and moral integrity. He was her guardian. And the need of the hour was to provide her with comfort.

“You do not have to be afraid bahu. You can be with me. And this baby, he is my grandson, my own blood, he should sleep in my room too,” Balwant said.

She peered up and her eyes gazed at him questioningly. Possibly, she hadn’t expected this offer from her father-in-law.

“Babuji.. But…?” Sonam said hesitatingly.

“Bahu..” He looked at her sternly. Just a single word and eyes of admonishment was enough.

“Yes. Babuji”. She nodded acceptance. .

“Come ..” he said firmly. And, with an arm still around his bahu and the child within the other arm, he slowly walked her to his king size bed. The roar of thunder continued unabated. Yet, Varun for some strange reason was somewhat quiet now.

All this time their bodies remained touching each other. The flimsy nightie providing little separation as did the kurta that Balwant was wearing. Unknown to her, her touch had created a pronounced erection under his dhoti. Balwant was acutely aware and tried to distance his body in a manner that would him to avoid contact. He hoped that she would remain unaware of what he was going through his mind and body.

With the child sleeping in the middle of the bed, Balwant lay down beside him and, advising his bahu to sleep on the other side of the child, he closed his eyes. Gradually the weather improved, and the thunder slowly died down. Silence returned. It had been a long day for all of them and soon they all fell asleep.

Unsure what time it was, he awoke when he heard Varun’s soft cry. Balwant, always a light sleeper, was quickly awake.

“Bahu…” he called out. Sonam who seemed to be in deep sleep barely moved. His own eyes were roaming elsewhere till they were glued on to the rounded mounds pushing against Sonam’s nightie. The taut nipples of his bahu stood out haughtily and Balwant feasted on them for some time.

He waited for some more time, continuing to feast his eyes on her bosom and face and those amorous lips. Oh god! Oh god! If only he could bend down and kiss those pairs.

But Varun cried again. His mother had to be awakened immediately. Balwant give her a light touch on her arm once more, hesitantly. Then followed that up by shaking her twice on the arm.

“Bahu… Bahu… ,” Balwant said with a loudly before he saw her open her eyes.

“Varun is hungry,” he informed.

Sonam

Sonam started feeling more and more terrified as the intensity of the lightning increased. If she had not been required to take care of Varun, she would have cried like a scared little girl herself. She was hardly twenty four and rather young to be a mother in these days when women married late and became a mother even later. Now, with her husband away, she felt so very lonely, scared and helpless. She had a trying time to stop Varun from crying and feared the baby would choke.

Just then, she heard the knock on the partition door, faintly at first before it became more insistent, revealing the concern of the man on the other side. Sonam didn’t hesitate and, without a thought and without even thinking of what she was wearing, she went and opened the door. Her father-in-law just walked in and took the baby in his arms, showering his love for his grandson.

Frankly, Sonam felt relieved at his towering presence, as if a rock of support had come in her moments of fear and loneliness. He seemed very concerned about Varun, insisting that Varun was hungry. Even when Sonam said that the baby had his stomach full, he continued to tell her to feed Varun, much to Sonam’s embarrassment because feeding meant breast feeding and she felt so uneasy talking about it.

At the same time, she could feel his glances roaming over her body as she stood in her most revealing and exotic nightie. Sonam felt uneasy but, just at that moment, another deafening lightning struck somewhere nearby and, involuntarily, she threw herself into the strong, rugged looking, fifty year old man’s chest where she hid her face.

The man too did not hesitate but held an arm across his bahu’s back. In the other hand, he still held the child. The way he had put an arm around Sonam, and pulled her into his chest, only showed how protective and caring he was of her bahu and grandchild. Yet, more than that, it seemed so romantic, a man holding a lovely woman and her baby within his broad chest, like a lover or, more realistically, like a doting husband. It was a picture of a couple protecting a baby so dear to them.

Both were breathing heavily, almost into one another, breathing in what the other breathed out. It was so ethereal and romantic, but within themselves they could hardly acknowledge that feeling for its sheer absurdity. Romance between a woman and her father-in-law! So ridiculous, so preposterous! But now, even if Sonam might have wished to draw away out of this embarrassment, she dared not do so without the patriarch’s approval. He commanded respect always and now, as Sonam saw another side of the man, he drew admiration from her.

They remained clung to each other for quite some time, she trying to overcome her fright and he trying to comfort and sooth. Sonam could feel his hands on her back and unmindfully drop down to her butt curves, drawing her more into him. But the endless lightning was enough to draw her attention away from these touches. She shook in fright and honestly acknowledged her deep rooted fear to the patriarch.

“I am afraid, Babuji. I am not sure that I will be able to sleep alone in this weather.”

The patriarch pulled her even nearer when she said these words and Sonam could feel the side of her breasts pushing into the man’s body. Fortunately, her nipples didn’t touch him, or she would have died of shame.

The man comforted her more and then, almost in a commanding tone, said that she needn’t sleep alone but could sleep with her baby in his bedroom, on his king size bed. No matter how uneasy she felt, she realized that it could be the best option to her scared mind. Besides, the words of the patriarch were an order and she knew she would have to obey. She just meekly lowered her head in acceptance.

The patriarch continued to have his hand around her as he led her to his room and to his bed. Why he had to bring the king size bed to this room when the man was already a widower, that too just before Sonam’s return from Patna and Nihal’s departure, was a question that lurked in Sonam’s mind as she saw the wide ornamental bed.

As he led her, she could feel the strength in his arms and the sheer manliness of this rugged man. When they walked through the narrow door she had to bring herself nearer to the patriarch. Her swinging hand had accidently touched the front of the patriarch’s dhoti covered body. She got the surprise of her life! A hardness in an organ, whose size she could only leave to imagination, sent an electric current through her entire being.

Her mouth opened in shock and amazement but fortunately the patriarch couldn’t see her. Her first thought was making an unintentional comparison with the modest size of her husband’s, the one that she had lovingly sucked and had sex with. But that would be seem so ridiculously small and insignificant to this one that Babuji possessed. Quickly, she recovered from these inappropriate thoughts and followed the man who remained unmoved at the touch.

Babuji was a man who now showered utmost concern and consideration for his grandson. He quickly made the arrangements by bringing the infant’s bedding material from Sonam’s room and placed them in the middle of the bed. He went and switched on the night lamp, a soothing blue, switched off the brighter lights of the room. Instantly, the room had an altogether different aura about it – peaceful, serene and romantic.

Without further word the patriarch went and lay down on one side of the bed.

Sonam placed her baby in the middle and she too lay down on the other side of the child. As a mother, she needed to face the baby, which she did while patting the baby’s forehead and goading him to sleep. The patriarch too was facing towards the baby, and for a few moments they looked deeply into each other. The look between them, Sonam felt, was not just between a Bahu and her father in law.

It was something else … something she knew was improper and yet something that was almost hypnotic. She closed her eyes, not out of disgust but out of shame. What on earth was happening to her, why was she thinking these things which she was not supposed to. With her eyes closed she recollected how the man had held her close to him, how strong and robust and manly he was, of the sudden hardness she had touched for a second a little while ago. But the man turned and faced the other side of the bed, possibly saving further embarrassment to his bahu.

Sonam must have fallen asleep but when she opened her eyes the first thing that they fell upon was her father-in-law. He was now lying on his back, a hand outstretched over and above his grandson and partly even over Sonam’s pillow.

He was in deep sleep, no doubt about it. But what Sonam saw soon was unimaginable to her. She hadn’t been able to resist even if she wanted to. She glanced down from the man’s head, to his chest and down below to the man’s middle. The man’s dhoti had now formed into an enormous tent, a bulge of unthinkable proportions. My god, Sonam thought. Can a man really be endowed with something so big? And this was not even fully free and open.

Sonam was mesmerized. She stared at it in disbelief, awe and admiration. And she was scared too. What if he suddenly awoke and saw her staring at him? ‘Shame! Shame!’ she cried to herself. Just then, the man turned and faced the other side again in his sleep. Sonam’s hand almost went to her mouth, thanking her luck that she had not been caught watching something which she shouldn’t.After some time, Sonam too fell asleep but not before she thought about what she had seen just then and how that ‘thing’ got so hard and so big, and who, on earth, the man was thinking of?

Sonam awoke much later when Varun started crying and she heard Babuji calling her aloud. He kept telling her that the baby was hungry. Yes, Sonam realized, she had to breast feed him then, for it was time for the infant to get his next feed. And her breasts were too full of milk, almost bursting for relief.

The patriarch repeated, his voice almost hoarse, “Feed him now Bahu. ..don’t delay…he’s crying so much because he is hungry.” It seemed that he was hungry himself!

Sonam looked at the patriarch and then at her hungry baby. She had to feed her baby. But she simply couldn’t feed the baby in that room, in front of Babuji. She blushed, her cheeks crimson on her fair skin. She fumbled for words as she got up from bed and stretched her hands to pick up Varun.

“Babuji… shshh ..should I …I g ggo to the other room?” she stammered, wondering if Babuji would excuse himself to save her from embarrassment.

There was a stern look from the man which Sonam could only interpret as an instant disapproval. But his words were still very comforting and caring.

“No Bahu, you feed Varun here, on the bed. Don’t feel shy. You are a mother who is going to feed her baby and that’s natural. Come, sit on the bed and take the baby on your lap,” her father-in-law said. He had stretched his hand to hold Sonam’s hand and pulled her softly on to the bed.

—————— by AshmitaMadhukar