Indian Woman And Her Lost Appetite...Part III

A page from the dairy of a woman...

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Warning: Dr. Meenakshi is 35 years old, famous Dermatologist of Mumbai running a successful private set up since last six years, married to a general surgeon and comfortably settled in the city. This is an extract of her daily diary. But she is work of fiction. So are other characters mentioned in this extract. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely co-incidental and unintentional.

01 march, 2011

0300hrs

Hmm…I knew he was going to come. It was all in mind, etched and clear like a beautiful dream. I just couldn’t resist the thought of him. He came and settled there. From nowhere. I woke up early. Took a long bath. Washed my hair. Dried them. Wore the costliest perfume I had in my cupboard. Dressed up in blue. Just to match his blue jeans. He seems to be very fond of this…color…kind of stuck to it. Haven’t seen him wearing anything else… but… blue. Felt elated when I saw his name in the appointment book. Got settled for a while. Just to make sure. Took a deep breath. It was too difficult. I was like losing myself. I grabbed my neck. Eased a bit and rang the bell. And he was there the next moment. In blue jeans and white shirt. Tall, fresh with pimples on his face. Hmm…seemed to have increased in number compared to his last visit. It’s too difficult to get hold of these hormones. Prescribed some new medicines and lotions. Gave him next month’s appointment. And bid him goodbye. He was gone. Felt as if he is never going to come again. Thought of calling him, shouting his name. But it was just not possible. How could I? Being a doctor, a married woman and a mother of two daughters. He was just a patient who tickled me and made me believe that I was there. Very much there. Kicking and alive. Anyways I finished the OPD and had lunch with Karishma. She hasn’t changed a bit. We did our dermatology post-graduation together from Manipal. We were meeting after 2 long years. Meanwhile, she got married and got divorced after six months of her wedding. Aborted a child with her previous husband. And madam is in a relationship again. With her husband’s childhood friend. I just can’t believe her sometimes. She is so unpredictable. You would have seen the glow on her face. Felt as if she were pregnant. Anyhow we planned to meet again coming Saturday. Returned late at 7. Had to do some shopping for the evening. After all, it was our 10^th anniversary. A decade long relationship…hhh. Had some wine. Bloody marry. A nice dinner in taj. Deserts. Rajesh gifted me a diamond necklace today. And I presented him an I-pad. He is too fond of all this stuff. And then we were back. Hmm…I know what are you waiting for so long? Yes we made it. After all it was a special day for both of us. We got to enjoy. We got to relive that moment when it was all very beautiful and nice. Rajesh played Beatles on his new I-pad. And we got lost in the heat of the moment.

Something happened tonight which was strange. Too strange. We were making love. My eyes were closed in anticipation of an orgasm. And he was there again. Opening the door, walking towards me and making him comfortable on the stool. He wished me morning; I adjusted his face in the light and touched his spots. I felt uneasy and opened my eyes. And saw Rajesh reaching the climax. I felt as if I was cheating on him. My throat swelled and felt as if I couldn’t breathe. But it was not the first time. Very often I see my father lifting me and ruffling my hair. What’s he doing there at this time? I got to be crazy. Sometimes it’s Anand with his geeky spectacles. I do get his odor sometimes suddenly as if he just passed while we were making love to each other. Sometimes it’s my old friend Amit hugging and kissing me. Sometimes it’s my physics professor slapping and abusing me. Sometimes I see an entire orgy pushing inside me. I see lot many of them. But I don’t see Rajesh very often. He is always there. All over me, inside me. But not in my mind. Sometimes I don’t even recognize the faces I see. I feel strange. After all, I will be forty in next five years. And my daughters will join their high schools. This is something which I am never able to figure out. Is it right for me? Do I need to talk to somebody about this? Do I need to see a psychiatrist? I can hardly figure it out on my own. I want to hammer down my head to see what all filth is cluttered inside.

It’s not possible to sleep tonight without the pills. I'll go mad thinking about all this. I need to take them. I need to get a good sleep. This is what is required at the moment.May be one day I find an answer to my sexual fantasies and urges...

Indian Woman And Her Lost Appetite - Part II

Note: Nayani is a fictional character. So are Madhav and Bhiku. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely co-incidental and unintentional.

The hair drier

Nayani is a beautiful Marathi girl. She lives in Fatima Nagar, Pune with her husband Madhav Rao Lokhande and a three old son, bhiku. Her house is a 2 BHK flat in one of the newly constructed apartments of Fatima Nagar. Her husband, Madhav, a celebrated and horrific figure in the police department of the city, is a senior inspector known for his bad tongue and numerous infamous, cold blooded encounters. While Nayani was still pursuing her graduation college, she was married to Madhav Rao forcibly against her wishes by her ill-reputed, alcoholic father. She was just 19 when she got married to Madhav who was 35 then. Compared to her husband, who is a six feet tall, well built, muscular man with thick skin, Nayani is too short and lean and appears to be his child. Her wedding was basically a contractually settled political dispute. Since the fateful day, Nayani has served him day and night being his maid and whore at the same time.

Nayani works the whole day looking after the house hold and doing purchasing for the kitchen. Madhav leaves early and returns late at night in a dilapidated state. She serves him dinner and settles the kitchen. Almost every day she is being dragged and thrown on the bed for a violent sexual intercourse. As soon as the process is over, Madhav goes into a peaceful sleep devoid of any dreams and phases. Madhav is not only older and stronger than Nayani but he also has a bigger phallus compared to her almost pubertal vagina. She goes into a flight of pain every time he thrusts inside her. The act always leaves her groaning and bleeding in pain.

Her life has been a bagful of incompatibilities ever since the day of marriage. The whole thing has taken a heavy toll on her beauty and innocence. She has gradually started turning into a world of her own. Over a period, she has become more introvert and lonely. But despite all this, the fire still burns inside.

That morning while seeing him off, Nayani managed to slip away a cigarette from his wallet. After dropping bhiku to school, she returned home and prepared her breakfast. She, then, took a long shower and washed her hair. She switched on the electric drier and took out a beautiful red sari from her closet. Thereafter she got dressed and called her mother. After a long time she talked to her mother for almost an hour. Her mother was not doing well since the day of her marriage. She was an old case of pulmonary tuberculosis and had lost almost 20 kgs of weight crying for her child and looking after her sick husband. Anyhow, Madhav tried to help them financially as best as he could. But her mother burnt each and every penny given by him in the fireplace. Madhav, as a consequence, strictly prohibited Nayani’s visit to her family and even made sure spying her every move out of the house. She also called her elder sister who lives in lonavala with her husband and three children. During early years, both the sisters used to be good bharatnatyam dancers and they even managed to bag some prizes by performing in annual functions of their society. Both were great fans of Vajayanthi Mala and they used to dance madly whenever her songs used to come on Doordarshan. It has been four years since they last met and that was the last time they danced together. She discussed some of the basic moves with her sister on the telephone. Her sister still manages to perform as and when the opportunity comes. But Nayani has not even dared dancing since years.

The phone call greatly inspired her. She locked herself inside the bedroom. She opened bhiku’s almirah and took out his rattle from the drawer. She hammered the rattle and took out the beads from inside. Then she tore her beautiful silk dupatta and cut two threads out of it. She weaved the beads into the silk threads and tied each one of them around her ankles. She began practicing some of the basic moves. She then danced and danced in front of the mirror for hours together. She got all drenched in sweat and fell on the bed exhausted and elated. She then took out the cigarette from under the pillow which she had slipped away from Madhav’s wallet and placed it between her lips. She smiled and began laughing at her daredevilry. She closed her eyes and smelled the cigarette. She couldn’t resist lighting it. She went to the kitchen to fetch a light and returned to her room. She took a long puff and exhaled the smoke. She didn’t cough. She smoked it just the way Madhav used to, snubbing it tightly between thumb and index finger, almost crushing the butt, taking a deep puff and exhaling it sideways. Her entire life in the past four years began dancing in the smoke. She felt as if she is puffing out the toxicity packed inside her chest for these many years. A tear film smeared her lower eyelid. She didn’t let it get out and dried it in the smoke of cigarette. She got charged with anger. She removed whatever she was wearing and threw her naked body on the bed. She inserted her fingers inside her cavity and began pushing them hard, just the way Madhav used to with his long penis. She screamed and pushed harder till it started bleeding. Then she inserted her entire hand inside the vagina and gave it a good blow. Tears started rolling down her cheeks but she continued torturing herself. Then she removed her hand out and smeared the blood on the white flowered bed sheet.

Madhav returned home late at night in usual pathetic state. It was a tough day. He was insulted badly by the commissioner of police for his negligent approach to work and bad tongue. He even got a written counseling for his behavior. Nayani was going to have a tough time. But she always prepares herself before Madhav is about to return from duty. He was surprised to find the front door open. He got inside and shouted in anger. He stepped inside the bedroom and saw the blood smeared bed sheet. He got furious and shouted for Nayani again. But she was nowhere to be heard and seen. Then he opened the bathroom door and fell flat on the ground.

Nayani was lying silently in the bathtub with Bhiku on her naked chest. The tub was full of water. Nayani was holding the rod of the hair drier tightly in her right hand. She had electrocuted Bhiku and herself with the hair drier.

Nayani was dead. So was Bhiku.

Indian Woman And Her Lost Appetite - Part I

Warning: Sapna is a fictional character. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely co-incidental and unintentional.

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The black sari

Sapna is a middle class Punjabi girl married to a bank employee. She lives with her husband, son and mother-in-law in a suburb of Ludhiana city. Though pretty well educated as compared to other women of her age and place, her marriage was an arranged affair organized by her parents. As a girl she always wanted to marry a very rich and handsome person, preferably an NRI. But fate had something else in store for her. Anyways, married for five years, her marriage has been a very smooth affair without any significant hassles and issues. Her husband, Madan, works in a central bank and is earning a decent salary. Her mother-in-law, though quiet old, is overall in-charge of the house. Madan still prefers to hand over the entire salary to his mother and let her manage the house. Sapna like a normal Indian female has never complained and has been obedient throughout her stay in her husband’s house. She hardly gets time for all such issues concerning dominance. She is engaged all the day managing the household stuff and her family. Her son, Rahul, a small brat, keeps her busy and brings a smile to her face with his little pranks.

Sapna always wanted to continue her studies after the marriage and do a job. But her responsibilities as a wife, as a daughter-in-law and as a mother couldn’t let her pursue her career. She sacrificed without ever complaining and blaming anybody. She hardly gave it a thought after her son was born.

Like any other woman, Sapna is very fond of clothes. She has managed to afford a decent wardrobe for herself since the day of her marriage. She has a thing for colors. She always manages to make a style statement at the family functions. But the credit goes more to her beauty than to her clothes and style. She has always doted black since she was a school kid. Black tiffin, black sketch, black shoes, black skirt, black dupatta. When she grew older she wanted to marry somebody with black eyes and a big black contessa. She simply adored black. But she hardly got a chance to manage all this black stuff in her mama’s home. How could she? Black is inauspicious, depressing and sad. Her mother never allowed her to wear anything black. She once wore a black skirt gifted by her aunt. She was just nine years old, small enough to hardly understand any consequence. Her father lost his wallet the same day while returning from office. It contained the month’s salary. She was scolded badly for wearing that color. Not only that the skirt was burnt down and the remains were flushed in the drain. She watched her favorite color getting burnt down in ashes. Since the day she never dared to ask for black.

She grew older and her marriage got fixed. Somehow she managed to buy a beautiful black chiffon sari while the clothes and jewellery were being purchased for her wedding. She slipped it into a hidden compartment of her wedding suitcase and brought it into her husband’s home. She is a free bird now. She has her own house and own life. Nobody can stop her now from wearing her color. She opened her suitcase on the second day of her marriage and took out the crumpled sari from the hidden compartment. She got it ironed and wore it to her skin. She looked in the mirror and smiled. Her eyes sparkled. She came out of her room. All the relatives and friends were waiting to bless the new member of the house. How could she dare to wear such a color on the second day of her marriage? Her mother-in-law got furious and rebuked her for bringing bad luck to the family. She ordered her to change it immediately and wear something flashy and colorful. She rushed inside her room and cried. Since the day she never dared to wear the black sari in her husband’s home again. Her dream was sealed in closet forever.

Sometimes after completing the routine stuff, when her mother-in-law is asleep during the afternoon hours and nobody else is there at home, she goes to her room, locks it from inside and draws all the curtains. She drags the big suitcase from under the bed and takes out the crumpled black chiffon sari from the hidden compartment. She touches it to her skin and looks in the mirror. She irons it carefully so as to remove all the wrinkles and wears it quietly inside the closed door. She looks in the mirror again and adores herself as she has never done it before. She smiles and feels like dancing. She unlocks her hair and lies on the bed relieved and contended. She closes her eyes and begins to dream what she couldn’t dream otherwise sleeping with her husband on the same bed every night for so many years. She lies there for hours together in the warmth of that color. But then Rahul usually arrives from school and begins knocking the door. She gets up in surprise, changes, hides the black sari in the suitcase and is back to her work again.

She commits this crime whenever she gets enough time to do it. Somehow she manages to be a free bird wearing that black sari. She manages to dream and think for a change what she could never do otherwise. She manages to be promiscuous with that black chiffon sari wrapped around her skin while being committed and faithful to her wedlock.

This is the only time she feels like breathing.

And this is the only time she lives for herself…