GINNIE the GEM. By: Arvin dRay.

-Table of Contents.-

Chapter 1 THE FLASHBACK
Chapter 2 FOOLS RUSH IN WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO .
Chapter 3 SLOW AND THE STEADY WINS THE RACE
Chapter 4 THE TACTLESS FELLOW.
Chapter 5 THE ROUGH AND THE TOUGH
Chapter 6 THE MODEST ONE.
Chapter 7 Oh! Boy! THY NAME IS JEALOUSY.
Chapter 8 THEIR WAY OF LOVE.
Chapter 9 INDIRECT TORTURING.
Chapter 10 SO THIS TOO SHALL PASS.
Chapter 11. A RARE JEWEL OF BEAUTY.
Chapter 12 STORY OF A JEWEL OF BEAUTY.
Chapter 13 . THE TALL GIRL
Chapter 14 . LOST OPPORTUNITIES
Chapter 15 NINE DAYS’ WONDER.
Chapter 16 THE FOOD WE EAT.
Chapter 17 MIND IS A VAIN MONKEY.
Chapter 18 HOW TO CULTIVATE GOOD MEMORY.
Chapter 19 DO NOT KILL DUMB ANIMALS.
Chapter 20 OUR PROGRESS.
Chapter 21 INFANTICIDE.
Chapter 22 CONCLUSION
Chapter 23 HOW THE MAIDEN BURNT HER PALM.




PAST- PAST- PAST. IN EVERY FIELD PAST RE-APPEARS IN ENLARGED FORM.

Past holds the future, it repeats itself in the present. History repeats, People do not take lesson from it. Past comes back again. It is a burden on the present, and future. It is hovering on our head. None can escape past memory. It comes back over and again. We live in past memory. There is no present, no future-only the past, happening again. It appears in an enlarged improved edition. One never forgets incidents of the past. They are fresh as if they happened yesterday. Life is short and events are many. Whether you want it or not, it follows you like a shadow. You can’t shed it. It is interwoven in you. Shed it. Yesterday has gone, Today is with us. Tomorrow may not come. We should finish our tasks today without delay. Time and Tide wait for none. The present tense belongs to us. Whatever the past may have been, it is a glorious past. What is gone is gone, Let bye-gone be bye-gone. That’s all. We have to live in the present. We have left past far behind. Our life exists in the present. We should make the most of it. We do not do this. If we try, we can do it. It can be done. Not yesterday, not tomorrow, but today we have to enjoy every moment of Life.


Today is our time. Yesterday is gone. “Make hay when the Sun shines”. Life is short and work is much. Life will be colorful if you kept busy. Every hour hurts; the last one swoons. Therefore rise above and get to work. Work is worship. Work is life. Wok is activity. Wise ones stick to the present. Only the fools waste the time. Philosophers and writers write about the Past. The wise ones think of today. Persons with practical outlook live in present. They do not bother what past was. Present belongs to us. This is the gist of life. Throw away the past. Rise up. Can you do it? If so, you have won everything. There will be success in your efforts.

The females have understood and accepted the above truth in its real sense. It is seen that the ladies do not bother about their past. In most of the cases, most of the ladies, we know of, they do not remember the past. Let us admit that the females have a way of living in the present. Take for example, her life before marriage. Since early childhood she has her eyes on the future. She has accepted the task to win you over. After you are conquered, you are reduced to an object, one of the many factors in her life. You are captured. Now you become secondary. She has got what she wanted. Everything else is to come, namely, sons, daughters son-in-laws, household, new wardrobe, social position, etc. These other factors are more pressing. You become an object to decorate the drawing room. Your existence is taken for granted. You are an object in her entire collection. You are a trophy, an achievement of the past. On the other hand, she lives in the present. When she married, she shed her past, like the serpent, that sheds its skin.




She is reborn. She became a blank piece of paper on which she writes her life afresh. She accepts the new life as a challenge. She absorbs herself in her new journey of life. She enjoys every moment. She transforms herself to an unbelievable extent. She is one with the new atmosphere. She adopts the ways of life of a different family as if it were her own. She accepts the role of a wife with ease and grace. This is the beauty of it. She came, she saw, she conquered. That’s it. We are her tools to make use of, and when needed, we have to mend her problems.

THE BACKGROUND.

She was aghast with horror, when her mother died. She had cried for days. She remembered her childhood days. She used to cling to her mother’s skirts, seeing her in working dress ready, to go to poppy- fields. Finally, her mother used to take her. Her mother was a machine. Her daily hours were to get up, early, when sun did not rise. She would finish her morning formalities. She cooked food, placed it in a sort of a lunch box. She would hurry for work. She used to eat when the sun was in the middle of the day. Her mother was the in-charge of the entire poppy fields spread over miles unto miles, on the outskirts of Mountain Heights. Her word was final.

Mother had mastery in secreting sticky liquid from the fallen petal. It was collected in earthen bowls. It was allowed to sun-dry. The moisture would dry out and it would turn out the black gold, the opium lump.


Poppy plants were grown in the fields spread miles unto miles, extended to both side of the river, flowing from the hills, passing through woods. The old castle at the top of the hill proved a shelter for mother, and all, working in the fields in this region. There were hundreds of workers plucking the petal and incising them, as taught and trained by her.

She kept account of everything. She used to move in the fields. From the hill, from the heights of the windows of the fort, she kept an eye on everything going on in the area. This is the story prior to the reforms when the princely states were lords and masters in their respective states. Prince James had inherited these fields from his elder brother Sir Jones Inigo. They used to grow poppy plants in the valleys behind the mountains extended to lush forest and meadow where cows were grazing and some sat, chewing, churning their morsels. Deer and rabbits were seen running here and there. From the sticky juice from poppy- petal came the substance with immense power to stimulate pleasure, cause numbness of the brain. Use of opium was moving among the princely states like plague.

The scene reflects life in Europe in the early part of the last century. The people were moderately advanced in the stages of life. The kingly states lost their kingdom in pursuit of horse races, bullfights, keeping harems and consuming opium. Since birth, the prince child was administered liquid opium.


By the time he turned an adult, he turned out a confirmed opium-eater, an addict. Taking opium was symbolic, a matter of pride. It was a status symbol to serve liquid opium in the courtroom to their office bearer and guests. It led them to their way to financial physical and mental ruin. This craze was crazy enough for the innocent victim’s friends and families of opium consumers, crime victims and those who unknowingly became involved in it. For ages nations have been consuming these items in different forms. It begins with a mild stimulant. Thereafter the journey of its intake progresses to more serious stages. Ultimately it gets transformed into a killer-drug.

There was an army of workers, contractors, transporters, landing agents, engaged in this job. Everything was done with the final permission from her mother. She would be moving in fields, supervising the workers. From the heights of the castle windows, she kept an eye on anything and everything. They were collecting opium from poppy petal twelve hours straight and she would not be tired. She was a female robot slaving from early morning till nightfall. She would come to the house to bathe, eat sleep and back to work, next morning. Mother used to return home late evening for her ritual bath food and sleep. This was her life. Her life was her work.

Last evening, she waited for her to return, to see her staggering to the kitchen, after a hurried bath. She had not come till mid night, as she knew of. Thereafter sleep had engulfed her. She did not know what happened. She woke next morning finding mother’s bed empty and not slept. She was about to move out of the house. There was a knock.




The men from the estate were there. They gently broke the news. Mother had fallen down from the stony stairs. She fell all the way down. She missed the step and the tragedy had struck. By the time the co-workers saw her, they took her to a side and sprinkled water on her fainted face. The estate supervisor and a doctor had come who declared, that it was no use to sprinkle water on her, as she was dead. Both had to run to hospital in a frantic state of mind. What they saw at the hospital was a lifeless form of her mother. All the friends and admirers and relations had gathered at the hospital as they came to learn about the tragic accident. She was full of sobs and tears.

Her mother got recognition and high honor from the palace. Hundreds from the estate, and the local dignitary attended the memorial service. She was honored, by giving special tributes, about her whole life devoted to the society, for her performance and managing the trade, all by herself. She felt relieved that she was present at her mother’s death at the hospital and the funeral. It was an occasion as if the sad demise belonged to some family-member of the palace. Crowd of known faces of the town were there, to mourn for her death.

Her mother was a tough lady to deal with. She had character and virtue. She was anxious to help others. She deserved a grand funeral. He had come, but he was tied up with making arrangement. The work of looking after the mourners and providing them with requirement kept him sufficiently engaged. Show must go on.


That was the value and dignity of work in this part of the world. He did not show emotions, nor did he take notice of mother’s absence. He did not tell her anything. He did not tell her to be brave and that she should not lament and all that. He did not say anything to her about God’s will and all those comforting sentence. He hugged her and silently left with a heavy heart. He looked after everything, the funeral, the arrangement for service etc. He took charge of everything that demanded immediate attention. Still waters run deep. He now retired very late in the night staggering on his feet to go to bed with boots and the clothes to be awake next morning. He opened a grocery shop in the lower part of the house. He was keeping him busy in the grocery store haggling with the customers. He used to return to his place dog-tired to go to sleep. After mother’s death he had started drinking and smoking. He had not returned to the abstinence mother had taught. It was a topic he did not enjoy discussed in his presence. He now did not play cards, as was his favorite hobby once upon a time.
He had grown moody and melancholy. He had changed for better or worse, time would decide. Mother had adopted him since he was five years of age. It is said that his parents were leading marine merchants. His father used to travel overseas in his ships with costly trade item. Once he was near Panama Canal, his ship was captured by the sea-pirates of the Caribbean waters. Thereafter there was no news of him. His wife died out of shock and conjugal separation. Mother adopted him since then and he lived with them helping mother in odd jobs. He was about a few years elder to her.

Their house was a six acre, an ancestral house left by her grandfather, an ancestral estate. There was a kitchen, a storeroom, a bathroom and a lobby adjacent to the shop and two sleeping rooms with a large lobby, above the staircase. She occupied one, since mother was alive. In the opposite, distant room mother used to sleep in the big room facing her daughter. The ancestral house was the only asset left as a token of gift of ancestors. This was all they had. The house was solid built, sturdy and secure. It was safe like a castle. It had a large field with trees. They had cows horses and a mare, few dogs as their pets, poultry and other birds.

Once they were inside they were secure and safe with no worries of outer world. It provided shelter with reasonable amenities for a decent living. Life was good and happy. This sort of life went on for quite a while. Time passed by quickly. One does not know winter summer or rainy season when one is happy. She received a fixed lump sum from the palace every month for maintenance and education expenses. Her studies progressed well. She missed mother’s absence. She had lost, shelter, her love, her care for her. She was alone in this world. She cried many a times missing her mother. Time is a healing agent. Time and tide waits for none. Time is the biggest challenge.

She had a splendid life in the days of her adolescence, It was essentially a life of pleasure. She began to care for her body. She liked to see herself in the mirror often. She learnt to tidy herself by instinct. Cleanliness is next to Godliness.

He : - Princess!”
His tone reflected, rotated, echoed, screeched, all over the house. It came from the depths of the kitchen, behind the grocery store on the ground floor, all the way up the stairs reaching to her room to her ears. His shout made her full awake. Her senses got concentrated as if apprehending some catastrophe. May be it could be a premonition, a sixth sense, whatever you call it.

He: -“Get up. It is noon. I am coming with your tea.”
The tone of the man, she had occasion to know and hear repeatedly, was different today. She made a fool of this man for long. She broke his heart by being rude when he came up for amends and seeking intimacy. She believed in her mother’s advice that men were no good. Men were not to be trusted by heart. His voice made her uneasy. She was alarmed. She had all sorts of doubts and worries. She was not interested in his charm and sex appeal. He was not her class. But mother thought differently. She feared that something was cooking between the two. Mother in the meantime as things would have it, happened to come across a page in her note-book. Mother wanted an excuse to drive him out of the house. The note written in her tiny hands was as under:-

"He is so handsome, when he laughs! When he looks with his eye-balls up in the sky, I am sure he is dazed of me. He is such a darling and so good! He is happy and surprised that I am not a bit superficial as I look. He must have grown to love me as a friend. That is enough for the time being. I have just jotted down whatever came to my mind. I have the feeling that he and me share a secret. We look at each other only when mother is not around. In mother's presence we do not know each other. If he looks at me with those eyes which wink and laugh, a little light lights within me giving me happiness. I hope it remains like this forever. There must be something he has guessed about me. He certainly can not love me as I appear. He does not know the inner me. I doubt if he is able to look beyond and penetrate the concrete-armor I am wearing to project a different self to the world. Will he ever reach there? It is said love often springs from pity. Will it happen? No I don't love him. I only want to talk to him and pass my time. Mother thinks that he is in love with me. She also says that he keeps on looking at me." " I am in a very difficult position. Mother is against me. She is against him. But I am not against her. I don't know of him. But he closes his eyes not to see the silent battle between mother and me. Luckily I am quite used to hiding my feelings. I manage myself well not to reveal my inner feelings about anything to anyone. She does not understand us. We are happy just sitting together and not uttering a word. When he lies with his arm under his head, as if sleeping, he looks like a child. When he plays with the pet, he is lovely sight to see. When he carries hay-stacks for the cattle, he looks strong. “

“When he is shooting the birds or running in the dark after the burglars, then he is brave. When he is so awkward and clumsy with mother, he is a darling. Of the numberless steps to my heart perhaps he climbed one or two.”

His voice shattered her dream about the Prince Charming. She was enjoying life in a hundred-acre estate. It was full of trees, flowers and green grass. She was spending her vacation with the Prince family. Today she had spent the afternoon for a brief siesta on a net swing tied between two trees. She was resting after a heavy lunch with the Prince family. In dream she was clad in white satin costumes of a delicate lovely Princess in conversation with the Prince Charming.

The Prince was resting opposite her in a cushioned chair his elbows, on the arms of the chair, legs neatly crossed; he selected his words with all the articulate crispness that is meant to rule. He was one of the handsomest being present in the whole Prince family. He listened to her with deft attention.
Prince :-( to her) “You are a remarkable genius! How come in such a young age you achieved such wisdom?” He said to her, poised on his elbows, one hand to his chin; one hand, negligently dangling, his face had flushed bright pink and radiating, full of life. But, the dream came to an end.
His voice brought her back to reality. She was lying in bed in the corner of her room, this morning. She felt good lying in the bed doing nothing. Her mother had told her stories of her childhood spent in this room,. Mother had the style to speak standing backwards facing the mirror in the wall. Mother was fond of telling her childhood events in greater detail. The room, the bed and the mirror –all had watched her grow up.

She was a maiden now. When she looked at herself in the mirror while getting ready, she was surprised, sometimes by admiration, and sometimes to her embarrassment, to see curves of the breasts and hips. She would close her eyes out of shame shyness feeling awkward. She was surprised to find slopes of the round buttocks and flat belly, and the long legs. She would put her hands on her slim waist. She would touch her breasts and overcome with shame. She would put her hands on her eyes as if ashamed to see them, feeling awkward. She would hurry to get dressed wondering about the wonders of ups and downs of her body. She was ignorant of the fact that nature had endowed her with the symmetry, parallel to none. Her face was flawless. The brows, the eyes, the cheekbones, the nose were rarest of rare to be seen. Seeing her, all other girls were sure to look like nuns of the church. She used to tie her bosom with a scarf rest it may reveal themselves to the prying eyes. She used to hide them under the knots of the scarf to look flat as if she had nothing there.

She was absorbed in the crowded and noisy world with her fantasy till she attained her age, a maiden out of the fairyland. When she was desperate for a confidant, she stood before the mirror and told things secrets she had learnt during the day. The image in the mirror was her friend and guide ever present when she wished.



The stories, the secrets she learnt would be such that she could not safely divulge to him or anyone; especially him because the secret thoughts were usually about him. Sometimes she wondered about other girls and their private lives. Did they have secret thoughts like her? Such questions used to puzzle her for which she wished answers.

She knew a few families. Sometimes she wondered about their married life. She was curious to know about their husband and life with them. Phil Sinclair, for instance who was her mother’s fast friend was married for sixteen years. She organized her husband’s day to day affairs, his entire life from putting clean socks, polished shoes, to start his car, and keeping its engine running for him to go to job every morning. Mrs. Harris and her husband were seen quarrelling all the time. Ms. Beatrice, aged 32, was a spinster. She knew all tricks of the trade. There was little of love’s language that she did not know. She was full of knowledge of erotic technique. She advocated that making love was an art, and that sexual contact was based on principles of science. Persons of certain characteristics attract each other.
To the pure, all things are pure. She loved them all, despite their strange ways of life.

Up till now life had passed without any difficulty. She possessed the slim frame of a body, which was free, tender, full of rushing life, that it gave the most of the hardened of males go soft looking at her. She was a real beauty. All art is born by improving on the old art. New art is born out of advancing, enlarging image of the old art. Beauty is best blossomed when it is used and abused.





A piece of Beauty is a thing of joy for the whole life. A full over-blown fruit, hanging on the tree, would get decayed if allowed to remain on the tree and if not plucked in time. It automatically would fall down. Birds would peck their beaks; crows would try to pick it away and all that.
She was now fascinated to look in detail, the visible contrast between her white breasts, and tan shoulder-marks showing white strips where the straps of the pinafore were tied. The curves of the body were felt like something new, surprising fascinating confusing. She winced and drew herself away as if apprehending some trouble to her beautiful body in the coming days. You may call it an intuition or a prophecy, as you like it. It happens. Some call it telepathy. Whatever you call it, but it does exist. It may be the sixth sense, a premonition, a forecast of events to happen. Life is like an earthen pot. A pot that is dropped in the well often to fetch water, may break someday. “Life is like an earthen Pitcher.” There was no doubt about it. “The pitcher when broken is released from its earthly bonds. It mixes into clay from which it was made.” Human body, after death, dissolves into the five elements of life, air, fire water, land and the sky; from which it was made. That is why it is said that life is brittle. It may break anytime. Therefore we should live life in its fullest form. Life is short and work is much. You want to do all of them in your lifetime. You can do it if you organized your life. Do not make mistakes others made. Learn from their mistakes. She was not a dumb one any more. She was aware broadly, roughly about the facts of life. She had seen dogs under trees in poppy fields. She had seen her mare with the horse. Both used to live together; nuzzle smell each other standing together living like a couple. She had seen male and female workers behind the shrubs.


She had also seen the estate supervisor with the spinster Music Teacher, his neighbor. One never talked openly or complained about it. It was like an open secret. All were happy. They took it as a natural and normal event. They had turned out to be regular pairs. There was no surprise and or shock about it. It was a long list of pairs. All knew it.

She was also overhearing their vile and vulgar talks, enjoying, teasing mother, in particular about her romance with the young Prince. Mother had scored a jewel. She had captured, Prince James. People were accustomed to know stories of romance and love of their fellow beings. It was a good past time. People told such stories with pride.
Once it so happened that a horse went wild all of a sudden, overthrowing its rider, near the opium grove. They came to know that he was none else but the youngest Prince James. He was few years younger than mother. Mother rushed to him, took him in her lap, and wiped his face with wet cloth. Gradually he came to his senses.

Mother supported him on her shoulder. She escorted him to his dwelling place. In the meantime attendants from the palace had also arrived. After he had recovered, he used to summon mother to his private place. Mother had a good time with him. They say that she was his daughter, and she was born after a year or so of their acquaintance. She had all the characteristics of Royal blood in her, in her looks temper and style, which confirmed their belief. Mother never disputed it nor openly accepted it. Mother was having good time, full with money, and she was buying always, new things for her. Mother’s life was cheerful. He bestowed all his love on Mother. She was a satisfied being not wanting more.




Prince James offered mother a place to stay in the estate. She had declined on the pretext that she had her own living quarters left by her ancestors. Mother was a self-respected lady not believing in being under anyone’s obligations. Anyway. Let us revert to their day to day life.

Mother, in her days, used to remain annoyed with him. Mother many a time used to warn him. It is quite funny. It seems true, children do inherit feuds of their parents.
She: “It is your entire fault to spoil her.”
Mother many times used to scold him
Mother asked him to stop fondling her.
She: “Calling her a Princess, She has a life to go.”
She: “A bum she may have to live with!”
She: “Don’t put ideas in the poor child. It will make her life miserable.
She: “We are born to work. Born to be exploited, used and thrown when no longer needed.”
She: “She is no different” “She is one of us.” “She is not only Prince’s daughter. She is my child also. I want to rear up her in my way.”
She: “We are just receptacles, bins, spittoons, toys a luxury for our Lords.”
She: And remember we are born to,
“To please them”
She: “They will do to us what they can’t do in their home.”
She: ”A woman is different from a man.”
She: “She is subject to lot of temptations, dangers, every step. Every male she comes in touch, looks at her to take her straight to bed. She can’t go with all.”

She: “She is still young to know all this.” “Why burden the poor child!”
She: “Allow her to live in her world.” “These are her best days to live life.”
She: “Her time will come.” “Her days are not far off.” “Her time is coming.”
She: “A girl is ten times wise than a boy of her age.” “Mine is no exception.”
She: “When time comes she will act.” “She is capable to do so. I am sure of it.”
She: “She need not be taught. It is in her.” “She need no lessons about it.”
She: “Do you understand?” “Idiot as your mother has born you?”
She: “I do not know what I saw in you?” “You pig -head!”
She: “I feel I should not have brought you to stay here.”
Today, his face was red with anger. Blood had come up on his face. He burst out loudly. He could not contain himself. He was shaken up. He lost his balance. He shouted out loudly. He lost his calm and cool. He forgot his place in the house.

He: “Shut up you bad mad Cow!” And.
He: “Keep your lips buttoned”
He retorted mother, as if, putting her in her proper place, and asserting his authority. He tacitly made her realize that he was the boss in the house. Today he was in high spirits.

He: “This is my small little place and I call every one and any one as I please.”
With the passing of years he had formed himself as a member of the family.
She: “You’re House? What I hear?” “ Did I hear Right”- mother would shout.



She: “This is my house.”
He would check himself. He knew he had gone fast. Mother was not a lady to be handled roughly. Mother was a respectable person, all coming to her for advice. Mother had pretty much her finger on the pulse of the entire surrounding area. He realized it was not an opportune time to pick up a quarrel with her.
She: “Before evening if you are not out of the house, I will throw out your things.” “I do not want untoward headstrong elements in my house.”

He calmed down. He was taken aback. He was shocked at the turn of events. He apologized before her profusely. He never intended to agitate her so enormously. He counted to mother all obligations he had done. How he had protected her in her days of need, and how he was helping her in all houses hold matters. He was a sort of her helping man running her errands here and there as told. He had been her handy man in her service all these years in return of a shelter. Mother listened to everything he spoke; she took her time, to make the statement. She replied him more slowly than was her custom, to give weight to her words.
She: “I do not know anything.” “You seem to have forgotten one thing!”
She: “I never wanted your help.” Mother would always use this phrase.
She: “You always pick up a wrong time to enter into arguments with me.”
She: “You have been a nuisance to me all the while.” “You are useless.”
She: “Want to know the truth?” “Truth will be bitter. So don’t compel me.”
She: “How I feel for you?” “I have always felt very rotten about you.”



She: “I brought you in my house to keep you.” “That was my folly.”
She: “I thought you would prove a man.” “You are a coward.”
She: “I wanted someone in the house for moral support and protection.”
She: “You were never there when I wanted you.” “You were playing cards.”
She: “When I am in trouble, you do not notice.” “You do not care for anyone.”
She: “When I am happy, you spoil it.” “I have always noticed that.”
She: “When I am depressed and want you to console me, you are not there.”
She: “When I ask you to do something you do not do it.”
She: “When I ask you not to do something, you do it.”
She: “You enjoy when others make a fool of me.”
She: “You have been a nuisance all the while.”
She: “You and I have been going on separate lines, and there has been no fun seeing you in the house.”
She: “It is time now that you leave the house at an early date.” “Out of my house!”

His face fell. He was shocked. He was shivering with nervousness. He was doomed. He would surrender. He would quit answering her. He would remain calm like a tame puppy. . He would quit. He would entreat her later to allow him to stay when she was calm. This was perhaps the longest ever-made speech by her. Otherwise she spoke quite less. Mother resumed sewing her dress. Mother did not remember her words. Mother never used to engage herself in serious confrontation.




When someone spoke to her, she would nod; absent -mindedly preoccupied in own thoughts. There was no joy in her victory. Mother was a forgiving person. He had also known after a long experience that mother never meant it. A woman when cornered had no idea what she said on spur of the moment. Life would go on again for a while, as if nothing had happened, unless again he confronted her and instigated her to quarrel. Being underestimated by men was one of the biggest crosses she had to bear all her life. It was very irritating when she was young. With the passage of time she had accepted it and got used to it. She had made an unconditional compromise with life. She had seen many winters. She endured suffered and tormented herself. None could measure her miseries. She would not bow to anyone, howsoever big he may be. She had preferred to live life her own way. She never regretted it. She was rather proud of it. She kept her sentiments and feelings to herself.

HER VERSION.

Today, she was home, down with cold and sore throat. The day was peaceful with no worry about work and other matters. She decided nature would take its own course. She slept again. This did not interfere with her world of reveries. She lived in a world of dreams. It was a sweet pain amidst a made-up world of imagination. She imagined of a happy married life ahead in the future with the Prince Charming. She was lying in the bed wrapped in a blanket. She rested in bed on a cool morning while other girls were already at the school, college or at the fields to crop the poppy leaves.




She had created a fantasy, which kept her occupied for quite a while. Her time passed happily. Life was wonderful. She wore plain cotton dress and her legs were bare. There was however a sort of freshness in her that would blind an intruder. She was in her own world of dreams and fantasy.

Voices of the customers were now not heard any longer. That means it was noontime to rest. She was relaxing. The only noise she had heard since he had awakened her was of drizzling rain and rain drops falling on the roof. The atmosphere was damp and lovely. The street was also empty with the noon oncoming fast. People were getting ready for a siesta, their nap after meals. Her room was as dim as can be on an early rainy afternoon. The atmosphere was romantic. There was enough time. The place was safe. She was there all, alone, longing for company. Some one with a will had just to walk in. Mother’s prized treasure was lying unguarded. Anybody could have it. Faint hearts can not win a fairy. Rogues can do it. They have been doing it. She shuddered at such a wild thought. In her subconscious mind she was aware of such a possibility. Yes, may be, She had stayed home to make such a possibility a reality.

She heard him roll down the shutter of the shop. She could hear his footsteps making movements in the kitchen and the lobby. Her ears were riveted to the floor below anticipating his movements. He had crossed the lobby. He was now climbing steps of the stairs. It was a quiet afternoon on a rainy day. Her heart began to pound. She felt panicky. All sorts of doubts came to her mind. She heard his boots hit the floor steps of the stairs causing an odd mournful echo in the silent place.



Now his face was seen as he completed climbing the steps. He had turned and advanced, marching awkwardly towards her carrying in his one hand a pail of Eucalyptus rub-oil, and a mug of Tea in the other. He had big plans for a big game on this auspicious day. He seemed to have done his homework well. He made a half smile at her, muttered a warm greeting. He was little out of breath. She did not respond. She had not reconciled from her doubts about him. She adjusted her blanket around her. Her sixth sense warned her. She saw in his eyes, a flash of something sinister. Danger was coming.

A sigh escaped her lips. She was too confused to do anything. She took a deep breath, maddened by her own stupidity. What was the point of sitting here and fabricating such wild thoughts out of the mind when there was a possible invasion? No. No. No.! It can't be.

Again the fears came back. She widened her eyes and sat up from the bed impatiently as if to run away. She felt.
This can not be hallucination. She recollected some proverb.
She: “Coming events cast their shadows before,”
She repented for staying home and not going to college. It was her fault. She was like a lamb sent to the slaughter. The lamb always died. It is a tragedy. Many a time she imagined the lamb to fight, the butcher-man, to reverse the page of History. It would be a miracle. She consoled herself, she thought with a sinking feeling to gain courage.

She: “He would not dare to do her any harm as yet;” She consoled herself.
She “He was mother’s tame dog.” “Dogs do not bite the owner.”
Again her mind refused to agree and doubts started hovering. In her life she had never displayed fear. Today she was really afraid. This time she was full of all sorts of fear. Her mind refused to work. Fear is something that has to be learnt by experience. It takes the life out of you. She was young to experience such an event. She felt dizzy, confused not knowing the fate. Startled expression lingered over her face. They were visible. Her head ached, her body ached. She thought about going out, to a neighborly friend’s house, not very far, but far enough when she was tired and not well. Staying in the bed was not going to solve the problem. If not today, some day she had to face this problem. There had to be somebody who could help, someone to talk to. At home there was nobody. After mother’s death, there had been a sort of emptiness in the house.

She was really in a vulnerable position. She had invited trouble. This chilling possibility penetrated her mind like a steel blade. It was so unacceptable that she refused to believe it. She waited for events to take their turn. Let it be. Come, what may! She consoled herself that she had been unduly disturbed by her thought and there was no possibility of his advancing further. She assured herself. She calmed.


One moment her nervousness was ebbing away, next moment it was returning with double force. Her mind oscillated in all direction for and against the possibility. She had many memory of him since they were living together under one roof for the last few years. She had almost neglected his presence giving no chance of any conversation or intimacy. None of the past memories about him were pleasant for she had crossed swords with him innumerable times in the past. She had handled him with a stern look. She was feeling today, ridiculous. She lived in the castle house since childhood and she had on many occasion dealt with him with firm hand putting an end to his intimate talk.

She knew what he was and that he knew that she knew about it. There was no secret about it. She had rein of power on him always. She had held the reins quite tight upon him. She knew that beauty was a promise to attract the male, to lure him to wander around. She was therefore lying low in the house never revealing and always concealing. Man wants to believe to be above such temptation. They live in a life full of myth. It is a myth they carry. All men are on a look out for easy prey if they could lay hand on.
Every woman wants to believe herself to be a beauty, she craves to be prettier, richer, glamorous happier than they were. They did all sorts of tricks to do this. She was an exception. This did not apply to her. She was simple and domestic loving girl not influenced by the glamour of the outside world. Plain living and good thinking was her life. She was an aspiration being, wanting to be somebody, someday, somehow, somewhere.


Every woman wants a settled life secured in matrimony. She hopes safety, protection. In her body she sells hope. It is triumph of hope over experience. All do it. All know it. The silver-tongued that conjures such dreams is part circus, part created magic with smoke and mirror galore on their part to lure to capture them in the cage of matrimony. It is an institution of myth. Marriage is a tie that binds one man with one woman for the whole of their long or short life. It allures her to enter into it in haste whereas those who entered into it strive to get out of it in haste. Both ways life becomes miserable. She was inexperienced of all this. She was a blank piece of paper clean and dot-less. She did not know marriage was a myth.
She: “Sorrows come not in single, but in battalion. “
She could see, him put both things on the wooden shelf near window. She felt him come towards her with some informal remarks.
He :- “ I have never seen you look so pale! “
He:- “Oh ! God what has been the matter?”
He came to stand close to her. He put his fingers on her forehead in a style a doctor would do. He carefully separated and freed the wrapped blanket. He slipped his arms around, and propped her up so that she sat supporting her back to the wall of the bed. Her eyes went half-closed out of fear and shame and shyness of finding her alone in such a position, for the first time, in her life. She felt herself insecure in his presence. She was a girl alone in the house. His unexpected advancement on her privacy was disturbing and challenging. It was for the first time in many years he had attempted to behave like this. After mother’s death they happened to be living under the same roof without any difficulty. Today was a different day, from all point of view.



He took one hand off his pocket and laid it over hers. The sudden simple contact left her quite dumbfounded. Nobody in the most intimate moment had touched her before in such an intimate way. She felt as if he owned her. She kept herself on the bed in shocked silence. She was mesmerized with the abrupt movement of his hand, heavy hand of a big male. She froze. Her eyes ached. Blood rushed to her head. Her body trembled, and what remained of the mind tried desperately to think out ways and means to get out of this mess. Her mind did not respond.
His fingers rubbed and caressed her head. He adjusted her unruly braids of hair with fingertip like a hair comb. With other hand he lifted her hand in style of a doctor, measuring pulse. This made her dizzy. She liked it, soothing and comforting. She was virtually tongue-tied and could not utter anything. She kept eyes shut as if she was asleep; as if cat-napping, but her heart was pounding with such increasing speed, she thought it would explode against the rib cage. The blood in the vein was rushing to the temples as if it might explode any moment causing brain hemorrhage. She was a shocked helpless bird. She knew her days were over. She remembered mother’s golden words of advice to protect honor of a woman at cost of life. How in history many had died for their honor! The list was long. She should not have stayed home. She should have gone to the college. He had come well prepared. He had done homework. Mother was right, always telling,
She: “Do not, ever, be alone with males.” “It gives them idea.”
She: “It is fun for them.” “They have not to lose.” “It is one more ride for them.”
She: “With us, it is life and death business.” “We can not afford it.”


She: “It is a prized treasure Nature has gifted us, not to be wasted on unworthy people.”

She had missed the bus. She was sure to be ruined. It was written on the wall. Writing on the wall was clear. It was written in bold letters. By God! Save her! She prayed all prayer mother had taught her to chant in times of need. She forgot most of them. Her knowledge of all precaution went futile. She was sure to be used. Sword of Damocles was about to fall.
His fingers moved down from her head to forehead and to her cheeks, turned to encircle her lips and again upside up to nose, temples, ears, again to the cheeks, chin, towards front- neck, and inside front all the way in. His fingers were widening and exploring, in search of something, as if he was sure they were there, surprised not finding what he wanted, and his hands coming up empty. He left a heavy sigh of disgust with himself. He sat in silence for a while meditating and thinking what to do next. He was still however trying to locate in his mind one infallible clue to reach the goal; he believed himself nearer to it than ever before and as if expected that his hands would catch hold of them wherever they lay hidden. He wondered how come, his hands could not find them! He was really puzzled.

After a while as if he gained strength, to advance further, he positioned himself on the bed sitting, his thigh touching her. He massaged her head, moving his fingers in the folds of her hair, then moving on the face, shoulders, nape, the neck, going up to her back, in the rear, all the way down the spine, causing untold hair-splitting body –ache.


She started shuddering. Veins started pulling, and stretching. All juices in her body got collected and rushed at a place, for a way out, with velocity of waters of Niagara-falls. Her secret prayers were heard. Her secret dreams were coming true. Every human being is a split personality. The Jackyll & Hyde theory of split personality is based on science of human behavior. He behaves differently at different occasion.

Groaning, he took her in his arm, buried his face in her hair. He kissed her hair over and over again. He was shaking in every limb with oppressed suppressed passion, emotion, and half rage, half-desire. His suppressed desire had found a vent today. He did not go up to her lips to kiss her right away. He continued to repeat the cycle of events.
A hard wind blow of passion drove him to her lips. He devoured the lips with his own, kissing her. It looked as if he was dying of thirst. To him her mouth was a moist ripe peach fruit.
One has to stand in meditation on his two feet life long to procure such a prized piece of beauty. She was amazed. She innocently and awkwardly returned his kisses. She gave up herself up to the joy that he was holding her, tight being kind, good and kissing. She had never experienced such feeling. This was something new to her. She was thrilled. She was anxious to know further. She felt she was unduly frightened and alarmed. It was a wonderful experience. She abandoned herself to the fulfillment of years of yearning for this moment. She, inexperienced, to the kiss on the lips, was shaken. The discovery of the mouth of another, roughness of his lips, hardness of the teeth, and wetness of the tongue was new.


She began to return his kiss as if each kiss could bring back her dream she had reveled in bringing back world’s happiness in returning his kiss. She was inexperienced in this field. She felt on top of the world.

In Heaven, a dam had burst wide open. It had let waters fall on the world, flood them all. It had swept them in its grip, pulling them with its waves. The wild waves hitting them, submerging them, down to the bottom of the earth. They were again coming up to breathe, dashing against trees, houses, and what ever came in the way. They were not knowing the fate, almost sure to drown, losing consciousness, floating as per its will. They were having no hope of survival.

She knew it was coming! Silly! Really she was silly! Say, she went mad, quite mad, she liked to be mad. She did not want to be wise. If you are wise, life is dull dry and dark. Being wise, you have many restrictions, checks, controls, ifs and buts, and responsibility. It is good to stay mad. She died. In death, she felt it sweet! She enjoyed dying. What a fall! What an extent she had changed!

She cursed mother that she had lied to her about all this. There were no danger mother had out-lined. The sensation was all heaven. She wanted to bathe herself in his love. Let it pour on her and, on her flesh. Let thy love in kisses rain, on her cheeks and eyelids pale, Oh! Press her close to thee! There, it should break at-last. ! She liked it. Go a head!
Few moments of love are better than a dry spell of long life. Her face was glowing. It sparkled like red hot sun on the horizon.




She came back from her dream. Her senses returned. She knew there was an emergency. Her honor was in danger, about to be molested. She was behaving like a helpless spectator to her ruin. She was unable to do anything. She was in the most helpless situation ever imagined. Nero, the Emperor of Rome was playing the fiddle while Rome was burning. She did not feel like doing anything. She had gone stalemate. She did not know what to do. Let the nature take its own course. He had taken over full control over her. The Almighty is there to take care of everybody. He would save her. She relied on Him.

She could not do anything. She felt she was helpless. After a while, as if, she were endowed with some divine strength, duly embarrassed, she pushed him out of the way and came down the bed.

She had pushed him aside. He was taken aback. She rose to her full height, confronted him with a stern face. At once she felt marginally better. She was her own self now, in control of the situation.

She: “What are you doing here in my room?”
She: “What business you have got to come here?”
She: “Out!” “Get lost to your place before I make a scene and draw a crowd.”
She: “What you have taken me for?”
He chuckled. Inside he was shaken. He made a brave front.
He: “I was worried about your sickness.”
He: “I am concerned with your health.”
He: “I felt I would entertain you to keep you happy.”
He: “I did not mean anything else.”




Annoyed by his sudden intrusion, she stamped her foot, expressing displeasure that was her usual habit. She did not enter into further conversation. She gathered her slippers in an attempt to move around the room. She did not know he had moved behind. He was determined to get her today. He was an aroused animal. He did not waste time. He cornered her with his hands. He held her firmly against his chest. She frowned. Gathering courage, she ducked away beneath his arms and moved away from him. He was very much still. He took a second step, pulled her in his arms before she realized what had happened. Again she was at square ‘A’. She froze under his stare. She felt he was going to kiss her. She had to stop him. But she did nothing to stop him. With ease and slow deliberation, he advanced, took her in his arms. When she tried to pull away, he made a smile at her. He appreciated her fighting spirit. He tightened his grip. There was a gleam in his eyes. He pulled her still closer. She opened her mouth to shout, but before she could utter anything, he had his mouth firmly clamped over hers. It was a long, long practiced kiss, his lips pressed and probed her lips. She was rigid in his arms, but the heat was spreading. He continued to kiss at slow pace not suffocating and not hurried but as he continued kissing her, she succumbed to weakness, and melted. She was responding to his kiss against her will. He finally released her to breathe and relax.

He caressed her shoulders, which when touched, had the freshness and polish, he had ever seen. The skin was velvety and untouched by a male member of the male community.




He traveled towards her side-neck, nape, chin cheeks, temples. His hand went to her hair, head, and descended to the back of the head. It went to her back- neck, and galloped straight to the waist and beyond. It came back, journeying slowly up, and down, to back; from back to shoulder and again from shoulder to the back, going far rear, all the way down. There was no further beyond that point. It was as if a circular route he had adopted ascending and descending at every curve.

Remembering her mother and her affair with the Prince, she wondered whether she had taken the path her mother had chosen. She was a virgin. She had never dreamt of sleeping with any man before. She had hated him, and everything he stood for. She could not however dispute the fact that she found herself physically attracted to him.

She: “Was she a shameless girl, desiring him?” she asked herself. Surely a decent girl would not get attracted like this. There was more of her mother's blood in her than she realized. She felt she deserved to be destroyed at the hands of an ungrateful fellow on account of her behavior. She felt she had violated rules of nature prescribed to be followed by a virgin. An agonizing pressure was developing within her ready to burst out any second.

Her body was not in control. Something within her had revolted. She was not her own self. She had resigned herself to his mercy. He saw her tilt her head back against the wall. She had raised her hands high in a deep sigh. He took it as come- on sign. He felt encouraged. He felt jubilant at such an easy catch.



She appeared very informal in offering herself to him. She was unaware of it. He could see that she was not playing the usual coquette or the mandatory tease before submitting. She did not understand the consequences. She was a blank piece of paper. Her look was so eager, that, it gathered together her entire ardent nature, and it was offered to him in an artful manner, without any ceremony. She was an unspoiled child. He kissed the curve of the jaw, near her neck and everywhere, puzzled and bewildered at such an easy catch. It was apparently a case of misfits. We see around in our practical life so many misfits. There would be addition of one more.

She knew he had her. She was deceived. She thought him a straightforward guy whom she could make him dance to her tunes as and when she pleased, proved wrong. Her arithmetic failed her. After Mother’s death for the last few
years, or so, they were living together. He was the slave. She had an upper hand. She could get done anything from him. But today, she got scared. She was sure of it. Today it was different.

She: “Trust an Animal but never a Man. Animals are faithful, not ungrateful like him.”
She: (to herself) “Can a leopard change its spots?”

A leopard can not change its spots. It could not change its nature. She realized this truth today. He had made a plot to get her. It was a case of misfits. Since Mother’s death it appears, he had his eyes on her. He was waiting for an opportunity to put his plan into practice.

Today she provided him with an opportunity. She was home and not gone to college. Atmosphere was romantic. Occasional showers of rain had accelerated the atmosphere into a more romantic day. The house was an ideal place for love. He had made the necessary arrangement to advance further in the name of helping her in her sickness. He had prepared a rub to help her to overcome cold etc. It was an exquisite plan he had invented to get her. He had taken her quite by a surprise. She had not expected him to advance further with such unfair tactics.

He was like a leopard in the jungles. She was like a doe-deer, in the forest. The deer wants to love the leopard, it also wants admire the green grass. The reality is far from real life. The leopard can not live unless it eats the deer-doe. The doe can not live unless it eats the green grass. the leopard hunts the doe-deer and catches it and kill, drags to his baby leopards to eat it. The deer-doe selects a stag-deer of her community.

They all belonged to different world, got together by chance or by some irony of fate, like passengers in a train. They were like strange co-fellows, rock bottom different from each other. Here, she was dreaming, there, the thief was doing his job. She was helpless. She had no strength to oppose. Her faculties failed her. She was no match for him.

She: (to herself). Oh! Lord! What is happening! Today! He was different! She knew all the symptoms. She was in danger. What to do? He was a hunter dog.


He was a bloodhound dog. She was the victim of the day. She had seen the dog hovering after the bitch and smelling, licking her at all places and all that. The dog was all honey and sugar for getting the trophy. Once he had penetrated he was the king. He was at rest now, panting, breathing hard, lungs inflating, with saliva oozing from its mouth; he would be half-sleeping with a winner’s face. She had seen the bitch suffering. She had seen the bitch, striving to get detached. She had seen pain and repentance in her eyes. A dog is a dog. It has its place. You do not dress it up and take it to a dance. Here she was doing all the philosophy. There he was doing the job.

She: (to herself). From dog, her mind turned to garden, and garden-keeper. Her mind was traveling fast, at jet speed. He appeared before her eyes as the gardener of the garden of flowers. He knew which flower was ripe to be plucked. Today she had fallen to his favor. She had to face it. To him, she was just a flower, to smell and to crush and crumple and throw away! Females are flowers. They are buds in the teens. Many buds and flowers fall prey in wrong hands and they are withered before their blossoming time. They survive to live like walking skeletons. They are better dead than alive. A flower or a bud can not by her volition give herself to anyone. She has to be plucked and taken. The real man comes to the flower, as if it was his own property. He just comes, sees and collects. He plucks it and buttons it in his buttonhole and would walk out.


No question is asked. No permission is sought. No apology is tendered. Man is the master of all he surveyed. She is very much obsessed with the idea of giving herself to a man. She simply can not decide about it. She is in two minds weighing every pros and cons about the man. All her faculties get transfixed, dumb, and paralyzed.

She: (to herself). To her it is a treasure. She can not decide. She has no capacity to give. It has to be snatched, or stolen from her, without her knowing. She is taken on a high ride. Her importance is magnified. She has to feel that she has gone so big at her zenith that none can reach her. She has to be tricked and trapped without her knowing that she is already captured. She has to be kept so busy with series of functions, appointment journey and other off hand last minute unscheduled program that she does not find time to think what is going on. She has to be kept intoxicated with praise promises and pampering. Her dreams have been fulfilled. She has to feel that she is a star. Star is seen in the night. They fade in the daytime. She has to live in the myth of being a world celebrity. She should not feel depressed any moment. She would surrender in her entirety. It is now time to enjoy her, to eat her, to take her alive.
It is the same process as we tame a horse-mare. To ride on a mare and to bridle her is an art. The mare is afraid of its own shadow. The mare does not trust anyone lest he may ride over her. You have to be with her for hours, for days, months and years with sugar lumps, to allow her to smell you nuzzle you. She has to be pampered and praised all the while. You have to be a part of her. You have to belong to her. You have to be one with her. Caress her, praise her cajole her; allow her to live into her dreams.

Then you take her. And ride over her. She is meant to be bridled ridden and spurred.. It is late for the mare when she realized that the rider had already ridden over her, bridled her and had possessed her. Men have been doing this for ages. The females have been falling in the trap knowingly or unknowingly or some with knowledge but do not mind, as they are interested in temporary pleasure.
She shuddered at the very idea, as to what next he would do! In first game, she had melted. Her flesh failed her. Her breath came in painful gasps. Her face was flushed. She felt her body ached with the discomfort of the long and tiring journey to the moon, the stars and the planet. How she would survive in big games! She could not think. All thinking stopped. All her wisdom was gone. She felt she lost consciousness.

She had not prepared herself. She felt she was not worthy to be mother’s daughter. She had simply thrown herself to him without knowing consequences. He would not leave her today! She was sure to be his prey. He must have watched her. He had known that she had attained age. He was on a look out to get her. She helped him by not going to the college. It was a blessing in disguise for him. It was a God gifted -opportunity he had got for free and that too without effort. Oh God! Why in the hell she stayed home! She deserved it. It was entirely her fault. Had she used her head, she would have been safe. He was all set to go all the way. She felt she failed.
Again she got busy in her thought. He was a hunter dog of the jungle, a grey hound, or an Alsatian dog!

He was not a tamed Pomeranian puppy. He knew every bitch needed servicing. She had seen inexperienced small puppies failing in their aim. But this one was sure to hit the jackpot at the first shot. He would take a blind shot but it never missed. She would be serviced, well serviced. She would have not to complain thereafter. She would be in bed for days. She would forget walking.
He smiled. He moved towards her. He stopped right in front of her. He stood so close; she could smell the husky male odor. He extended his hands. He got his palms moving on her ears, going in circular route down to the neck, and inside the front, now boldly searching for her breasts. Her breasts were not trained and were unknown to any touch, were in raw form of limped lumps of flesh not developed. He started fondling them.

As he stroked her breasts, they seemed to have life. They swelled under his touch. The flesh was hardening. He searched for its tips and started fondling in rhythm, circular way, clockwise and anti clockwise, going from one to another. Thirsty hungry untrained and inexperienced as they were, nipples started responding, with his touch. They started growing and standing erect and the bags started filling with life. The downfall began. Countdown started. It was a matter of minutes. Before a minute, alive, next minute dead. There was no chance of her survival.

She prayed, and again prayed God to run to her rescue. She was doomed. She was slipping. She was skidding. She could feel it. She was getting heated.

A bitch in her heat does not know. She responds to regret. She goes along to die. She digs her own grave. She helps destroying herself, by getting ready and responding. She was getting bold. She was no longer ashamed. She felt she never knew it was so wonderful. She felt she made a mistake. She should have used him much earlier. She felt she wasted her years. All sorts of mad vile ideas were over-powered her. She got mad. She got lost. She wanted help. She felt she wanted him, real. She was hankering for his love.

She: (to herself) “Come, You timid?”
She: “Why are you wasting the time?”
She: “I have not left whole day for your fun.”
She: “I have work to do.”

The waiting was interminable.
Her body started jerking up and down, helping and assisting him in his efforts to water the dead plant. He was a body mechanic, an efficient repairer. He must open a garage to repair so many, many, unhappy girls like her, who were frigid, dry, dead though living. He knew which part of the body was dead. He could set them right. A mechanic repairs and hands over the stuff to the master. He does not own grab the vehicle. He charges a fee for repairs and turns over the vehicle to the proper man.

There was transformation in her. He had made her a woman. Her breathing became hard. She started dancing to his movements. She had turned red.


She drowned in water with dams bursting to destroy everything. There was heavy bombarding. The sky noised with thunders, lightening. Its noise deafened her ears. Firecrackers burst every where. Rain was pouring and wild wind was blowing all around. She clung to him.

His hands rested at her shoulder blades making circular movement rubbing them with palms. This process heated her like a wild animal. She fell under his influence. He had taken hold of her. He was the boss and she was the slave. She was frantic with excitement. She was shaken with the new experience. Her body responded to his jerks, thrusts, upheavals and what not! She felt as if earthquake happened all around. She thought the world had come to an end! He pulled her ears playing with earlobes and penetrated ear- holes with fingers. It maddened her. Some restraint was left in her who got melted.

She was freed from age-old obsession, restraint, control, checks, ties, vows, promise to behave, and all strings of bond, barrier, bound-relation. Powerful electric current was passing in her. Her budding bosom heaved and sighed. It could take no further. It got enlarged like the paper bag. It looked it may blast any moment.

She came to her senses. She pulled back. She hit him on the face with all her strength. It made sound like an explosion.


He hissed, looked startled. Her palms burnt. She darted towards the door. She knew she had to run out of the place as soon as possible. Something terrible would happen. He was quick. He grabbed her by his hand. He threw her back on the bed. She tried to get up. He shoved her back on the bed again. He held her by her shoulder. His other palm went to her other shoulder. Both palms used to meet at nape of neck together. It moved down to waist level in the back, with her body encircled in his grip. His whole self was hovering over her with circular jerk thumps, push, pulls, and hot breath on her. She went crazy. She started moving, up down, side ways, and circular, with him. She adjusted her movement, in rhythm with his. They traveled and circled the whole world, hundred times. This was her first world ride and she saluted him. She wanted to reward him. In her sub-conscious mind, she wished he never stopped. She felt she failed with his every touch.

Atmosphere was full with wildest ever ideas. She never felt like this. She lived with every embrace. She failed in every game. She fainted at every touch. She surrendered with every tongue –play. She died with every kiss. She jumped at every stroke. She danced at every slash. He had a hunter-whip, a leather raw hide cord in his hand. He whipped hard and hard till she could not endure. She bounced at every whip-hit. She raised her legs with next whip hit. This aroused him. He hit hard again. She screamed. Her legs involuntarily opened up all possible wide. It exposed the mount and moulds for his view. He kicked her with his boots.


She bent and turned on her belly. He whipped her back so hard that she felt she flew in air, full of pain and scream. Saliva ran flowing from her mouth. Her bare back, shoulders got whip-marks imprinted on her skin. Boot- marks were seen all over the body. She lay unconscious.

Helpless, Harassed, she was abused all over her back buttocks and the body. She deserved every beating, slash, kicks hits, whip, slaps. She liked the beating. But she had enough. She failed at every attempt to stop him. She could not do it. Something within her had revolted. Her inner voice was encouraging to go on, go on, go ahead, still ahead, and ahead, all the way, and never, never to stop, and naturally he would not. She collapsed.

He advanced. He slid his hands under her armpits. His hands then, went down via side ribs deep all the way up to side loins. His hands touched waist -band of her inner underwear at her tiny waist. The hands went again up, pressing and crushing side ribs, and so on. This electrified every bone of the body, watering, caressing her in every place.

She responded to his ways. He was encouraged. Both danced together. Both danced for hours, days. They were not tired. They were not filled. Both wanted still more, more and more. At last both collapsed together entwined in each other’s embrace and fell to the ground. They both were wet having bathed in the lake of love.

It seemed the game was in the semi final. It must be a full-day game. He was playing his game with deft attention care and concentration. His attention was fixed on her every move, rhythm style everything. She had stood up to the occasion. His pulse quickened at the thought of a fierce love making with her in the next moments.

A big fire had taken place within her too. She was burning with flame. The fire could not be put off with buckets or pails of water. It needed fire fighters to cool her, to quench her. Alas! Somebody had to estimate the situation. At last, fire fighters were called. Fire Alarms were ringing deafening her ears. Fire-bells were sounding in the distance. Fire fighters were far-off, to stop him, to take him away. It would be late. She lay numb and stiff. She waited. At last she heard them. Sirens were heard in a long distance. Sirens were now clearly heard as they advanced near and near and came nearer and nearer to her rescue. She was a dead duck. She was a limp lump of flesh. He was caressing her ferociously. Her sides had gone red, the skin was warned out, flesh had swollen ready to come out. At last hosepipe were set. Ladders were laid and adjusted. Heavy boots were pounding, marching everywhere. Firemen wearing fireproof helmets entered. They caught hold him and pulled him away, dragging him. Water had started pouring in. She was drenched wet as if she was swimming in the room and she was feeling cooled with so much of water. Now she was satisfied. She could not endure it.

It was now time for a new game. She anticipated. She guessed. She knew it. He caught hold of her hands. He raised her hands up over her head. Her head was garlanded in a halo form by her entwined hands placed over her head. This view of exposed armpits maddened him. Her budding bosom was seen prominently, terribly heaving, out of breath longing for air. It was moving up and down with every breath for air. It may burst any time. The view aroused and maddened him. If a painter captured this view, in a painting, sure he would get first rank. She had died out of delight. She was proud to float in her dream.
He placed his palm firmly on each armpit. This generated wave and series of waves of emotion, sentiment, feeling, idea, dream all around. Drama was staged for this sensation to appraise the world of the power of this new experience. He was playing with latest model of new device. She sensed that it was a long unending game. He took a deep breath closed his eyes as if in meditation. He slept. His hands were resting on each pit. Her arm-pits emitted a long- stored, oppressed, pressed, suppressed heat like arrows were shot from there, in his palm. It pierced and burned his palm. He got jerk of an electric current. He was taken aback. He controlled him. He was happy. Contented, satisfied. She was breathless, speechless, dumb, still, and a statue. Today she died hundred times to live forever. The electricity, vigor and vitality flowing from him caused sensation unknown to her. The bell had ring. They climbed the bed for rest.

It was the big-recess in the class. She laid standstill. They took a nap. The bed was silent. It no longer creaked by the weight. The room was silent. It was recess. She met mother in dream. She told what he did. She asked her to come back. She held her. Both held each other. They both held and wept. Tears were flowing. Eyes were swollen. Bodies were trembling. Heads were spinning. Winds were blowing. Sky was falling. Sun was cracking. Stars were breaking. Earth was going in sea and they were drowning. She was hanging suspended on the horizon waiting for her turn to drown.

He got up. He stood up. He awoke her. He lifted her. He changed her now on the bed in straight sleeping pose. It was a new game; new style, new method. new tools, new technology. Her back was straight on the cot. He put pillow under the head and adjusted her preparing ground for next game. It was the final. She knew all facts taken together indicated that the opening ceremony would soon begin. Before the game started, she ran away. She knew, this was final to be played, to begin shortly. He ran after her. He caught her and dumped her again on the bed. He had grabbed her with his hand and shoved her on the mattress with a violent push. She was flabbergasted at her failure. All her strength had melted. She did not resist now.

The stadium was filled with thousands of spectators. The two team were about to come to play Final. Oh! Here it begins now! He was all set to go for the final act. She was in two minds. Helpless as she was, she went ahead.

They held each other. Their bodies got encircled and entwined. Faces touched each other. They were feeling breathing smelling each other likes two wild animals engrossed in fierce love play. They were smiling at each other, saying nothing, staying in loose embrace. She had clung to him.

They were one. By God! What was happening? Their Hearts were pounding. Do not stop. Start. Their bodies had melted in each other. Begin the game. End the silence. Begin the game; One, Two, and Three. Music, Drums started beating, loud, maddening every soul. What for the idiot was waiting? She was longing to die.

All of a sudden the curtain was raised. Thunderous clap was heard, greeting them. They resumed at dead slow pace and rhythm. They progressed slowly, and increasing their tempo, the momentum fast, faster and fastest. Faces devoured each other in wild passion. Both were giving and receiving, both were receiving and giving and so on. Days passed but they had not separated. Atmosphere was pleasant. Music was on; different instrument were playing wild mad music. It caused series of sensations, wild shouts, claps, big hands cheers and chaos, big blasts of bombs, fire-crackers, gun-fires, cannons thundering all around. Wild applause was heard. At last, after many days cease-fire was announced. Now the World was still. Life was still. They were also still. Their eyes were still. All things were still. She had exhausted halfway.

Again music was heard first slowly, coming nearer and nearer. They stirred as if awoke from sound slumber. Their hands were entwined at each other’s back. They had stuck to each other with glue, never to be separated. They were a pair of Siamese twins tied together. The heat had over taken them in its full grip. Nobody, no power, no being, not even, mother, if she came back, could detach them from each other’s embrace. Gradually tired and breathless and ready to fall and faint and die, they lay still. They were tired and torn, from a storm of heat, sand, flying in a desert all around.

Both of them did not know how they started going mad again, very mad, then, too mad. Their movement increased. Their bodies were joined in tight violent embrace. The tempo of the atmosphere had reached climax. They heard fast music. They were dancing with its speed, embracing and kissing, letting loose. At last, they stopped. They got tired and fell dead-tired to the floor.

After some time they were reborn. They resumed embracing and kissing, again letting loose. Again they were kissing and kissing and kissing devouring crushing breaking each other. They fell on the ground unconscious, breaking all record, all limit, all modesty, all barriers, and all boundaries. They had fallen on floor with a bang. They held each other in an embrace forever. Their faces radiated emitted heat into each other. They were arousing each other; they were encouraging each other, their bodies communicated green signals to each other, to go all the way. All line-clear bell rang.

She could bear no further. She resigned. She allowed him to do what he liked. She accepted defeat. She put her at his mercy. He understood. She was tired. She was limp. She wanted strength. She wanted rest. They laid in a fixed pose for hours on the floor, that she slept supporting her head on his shoulder, he was still, unmoved. He had used abused, reused, charged, recharged her small dry frame, gifting her with heat in her as if she were a live bomb about to blast. She was to be cooled by a cool shower of rain from him. She was panting and short of breath. She knew not what to do.

He lifted her from the floor and placed her again on the platform. He embraced her. He was still hungry and thirsty not satisfied and wild and attacking, jumping, humping and thumping and tossing and crushing as if she were a wild horse-mare brought to him to be tamed and trained. He was to day the ringmaster. He had tamed many horses. She was easy for him.

He gave life to her and she received his pleasure, as if both were playing love-tennis, high stroke, hard stroke, slow stroke, short stroke, far stroke, hitting stroke, returning stroke, placing stroke. At the end of every game, they were running to each other to take each other in each other’s arms, in close embrace, never to depart, breathless, over-powered. They were charged with feeling. They were tired. They were playing a passive and submissive game so that it may never end.

This was all new for a maiden not knowing the art of love. They fainted. All was silent for a while. Battle had stopped. Drums had stopped. Music had stopped.



Everything had stopped. Both lay in each other’s arms in an embrace for hours and dozed.

He resumed smelling, caressing with his nose and mouth and lips. He kissed her forehead. He was advancing, from side of the forehead returning via the end of the other side of it, to the eyes, nose, cheek, chin, and nape of the neck. He then came to the back covering full territory, temples, and her hair. He then made same journey on the same route with lips moving on nape of the neck. His mouth released hot breath. He lost himself in the depth of her armpits. He traveled his mouth from one side to the other crossing over her body. His front was touching her budding breasts in the process of reaching the other armpit. It was causing electric vibration and strong current. It was sending vulgar message.

She did not recollect when he undid buttons of her frock. He pushed it down exposing shoulders and full view of white neck and the back. He freed her hands from the sleeves. He saw the bare shoulders and outline of thin hairline in the armpits. He buried his mouth to smell, to lick with his wet tongue, and drowned himself in its depths, for long, forever. She died in a second, as she could not take it any longer.

She was startled, puzzled, amazed, horrified, finding her untouched place, wet on account of his moist breath. It made her skin wet and slippery. She was new to this sort of contact on her exposed skin. Something unknown and painful was happening within her. Ants were biting, thorns were pinching.


Something new took shape within her. Blood circulation had doubled up. Her face was red with shame and shyness. She felt lonely guilty unwanted, selfish silly and everything bad. She felt uncomfortable, adrift, uneasy pathetic, ashamed empty, cheap dirty, self-centered disgusted.

Again the game had resumed. It started first slowly, gradually progressing. It reached climax in a moment, Stage by stage, step by step. All her wisdom had vanished. Drums were heard beating loudly. She was dancing to its tunes, dead drunk and intoxicated floating in the ocean of love. There was a new sensation within her. All festivals, Shows, Concerts were dull and slow if compared with their speed and rhythm in their game. She was a witness of her own tragedy. The downfall would begin now.

Hundred times he lifted her. He had flown her in air. He caught her, again. He threw her high in air, caught her, hugged her, kissed her, tore her, twisted her, turned her, over-turned her, up-turned her, in-turned her, high- turned her, half turned her, and full-turned her. She knew not how many times he pressed her, smashed her, grind her, pulped her, ate her, killed her, enlivened her, again killed her, and tortured her.

Now it should end. She could not face his steady stare. She turned herself the other side facing the wall to hide her expression and aroused condition. She felt she would faint again.

By God! What a blunder! What a mistake she did! How could she be so foolish? She was between “Devil and the Deep Sea.” She had lost the game. Her turning sideways made space which enabled him to sleep and do anything. One wrong step was the end of the game. He sucked and licked her naked neck and open back. He was hungry as a fox. He was the master. He was the boss and she was his slave forever. She gave it in writing.

She did not know what happened. She was dead. She was born again, again, hungry, thirsty, panting, tired, broken, swollen, fighting to control her. It must have been hours when she found him at work. He had his head planted in the nape of the neck and as she turned to his side, he grabbed her, held her, and pressed her, close to him so firm and tight, that she felt she would break and die at last. It would never end. The bell had ring. It should be over by now.

For a while he withdrew his head as if to rest. He also withdrew his mouth allowing her to breathe. She thought the game to be over. It would not end. It was short recess. It was a never-ending game. It had a beginning with no end. It would be an endless episode.

Thereafter still two periods were left for long bell to ring to go home. He held her face. He clamped his lips on hers. This forced her to open them in a sort of a fierce attack.

He threw his body over her, riding, eating her, and devouring her alive, resting his mouth clamped on hers. He was debating within himself now what to do. Nothing was left. All was done.
She was immobile and frigid under his weight. She had already resigned herself and surrendered to him. She acknowledged his success, his victory and invasion on her privacy. He had conquered her. She was his slave. Still he did not free himself. His lips were planted on her half-closed lips. He was at work forcing his tongue to enter the mouth. His lips were warm and wet oozing with his saliva which drained into her forced- open mouth and she must have swallowed saliva in ton for hours. She started having sexy sentiment in her overpowered self. The whole body was not within her control. It was set free to do what it liked.


He is an inventor. He can invent all sort of new drill and exercise. He would not leave you free for a while. He kept her engaged and active. He could create a feeling that was most exquisite she had ever known. His mouth tugged on her tender sensitive skin. It was a feeling, rapturously new that tears stung her eyes. Her head fell back on his shoulder to rest. She surrendered to his lips, mouth, hands, palms, and fingers which all jointly and severally were responsible to cause an unknown fire in her.

A fire had ignited within her. She could not extinguish it. She was not her own self. She was an aroused animal. She wanted to enjoy the game of love at his hands. She wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg of him not to torture her any further. She could not endure his heat any longer, any further. She preferred to be strangulated, and die out of passion at his hands. Vile dream of a fierce battle fought between them surfaced before her eyes.

He extended his hand to lift her to stand before him. He allowed her to stretch herself to stand to her full height and cling to him. For one entire period they stood embraced to each other doing nothing just standing vibrating heat of their bodies flowing into each other, exchanging wild message from each other. Gradually he explored her body inch to inch, exploring her entire back from head to foot as a surveyor surveys the field every inch of the land with meticulous involvement, concentration and labor, with his fingers, palms, hands, mouth and finally;

He about-turned her; and he stood behind her, touching her waist with his hands, putting his hands on the side hips and pulled her towards him. She stepped backwards, dazed, dumb, and drawn to him, in a sort of hypnotized state of mind, body, and soul. She parked her entire frame firmly cemented with his frame. They stood still for hours, days, years, and ages. He stood behind. He resumed to explore her front, sides, hovering over her, his mouth planted in the depths of her neck right and left, both turn by turn, and now really, finally;

He confused her. He induced her into moving, turning, with slow rhythm. The tempo and speed gradually accelerated as if she were rotating on her toes at an immense speed and he was just touching and giving a slight push and support to continue rotating all times like a ballerina skating on ice. This went on for hours and days and years and ages. She felt she failed. She fainted. She died. She lived. Again she died. She was dizzy. Her mind and body were spinning like a top as if some super-natural force motivated her to spin and spin and so on, like the Sun inspiring the planets to rotate incessantly without stopping.

Some how she did not know from where she was over -powered with strength and anger and hatred that she pushed him. She wanted to run away. In that process, she fell down backwards on the bed in an her effort to move him from her way. He was a heavy stone-pillar with the result that she got thrown back. Half-lying on the bed, she kicked him so hard as if she felt, she broke her leg.

She felt her mother’s good deeds had come to her rescue and saved her from her downfall. It was a miracle. No explanation is necessary for those who believe in miracle. No explanation is possible for those who do not believe in miracle. They said age of miracle was past. Can the age of miracle be past? Never. Never. The age of miracle is forever. He was slow. He thought he had the all day and night to himself. He followed the rules of the book. He did it methodically step by step. Idiot as he was!

“A bird in hand is better than two in the bush.”
He was taken aback with a sudden unexpected move from her. He was quite unaware. He had taken her for granted! He would have almost fallen down on the floor. But by instinct he out stretched his hands for support of the cot and saved him from stumbling. He took support of the sides of the bed to stand near the bed startled, flabbergasted. She came down the bed to escape. In the process of coming down the bed, her half-open frock slipped further down, up to her waist exposing her breasts. To her surprise they were no longer tiny, and bits. They were big like mother had. They were swollen and grown plump three times in size and proportion, each tight like a hard red new shining lustrous cricket ball, but it had swollen nipples attached. They were aroused and gone brown and looking likes a, cherry, bubbling to burst out with touch or with slightest provocation.

Her breasts would have brushed, stumbled and dashed against his tummy. Her hands by instinct went around each, cupped and covered them. She retreated two steps back, clutched the back edge of the bed, placing her buttocks thereon to support herself. She was out of her mind finding her in the most awkward, vulnerable and embarrassing position in her life. She could not push his heavy frame that blocked her way, nor could she afford to expose herself in half sitting and half standing position with half of her body exposed in the open. At last instinctively, she pushed him. Some divine force had overtaken her. She derived strength from an unknown source. She with all her might, at her disposal, kicked him, right in between his legs.

He cried out, out of pain and agony. She pulled up her frock up to her neck quite fast. She ran past him down the stairs, busy putting her hands in the sleeves, and covered her body. She started buttoning the buttons of front open portion and adjusted her hair with her hands.

His folly was that he did not finish her. He took it as a game and prolonged it. He wasted time. He had to finish right away. He had to kill in one stroke. She was an adversary. He showed mercy on an enemy. Now, never. No chance. He missed his chance. Tables were turned. He had lost forever. She would never trust him. He had lost the game.

She: “I am through with it” “I am saved “She muttered to her-self.
How wrong she was! It had started. It had begun today. She had not realized how much this rendezvous would keep on bugging her at regular interval at odd times.
She was not through with it. She would never forget. Play-by play, stroke-to stroke, live replay of the episode would surface before her eyes like a screen wherein they would be seen playing their part. She would now be a spectator to see her performance and able to merit, evaluate her role with a critic’s eye. Her past would follow her as her shadow. She felt her honor modesty was safe sound and protected. Her skin was outraged, swollen, molested and tampered by his fowl hands and dirty mouth.

He was flabbergasted with her sudden move and was standing almost bent out of pain, in front of her blocking her way of escape. She had knocked the air out of him with a mighty kick at the right place, had walked out like a lightening. He remained where he was. He could not attempt to draw or pull her back to him. She had suspected he would surely do. He was not in a condition to do so. She had crossed him leaving him aghast and dumbfounded. The tea and the rub –oil, remained where they were. She had run down the stairs in three jumps reaching the bathroom down near the kitchen. She would have almost tumbled down the stairs. She was gone before he could catch his breath. She went slipping and streaking across the room like a flash. He was left alone. He fell on the floor, quite exhausted and tired.

He intended to make a come-back, to get a chance to play the game again. Up till now the opportunity had never quite presented itself like today. This time he had a break. Events moved remarkably in his favor. He had decided to finish up the mission this time. He could not make out what went wrong at the last minute. He came to a shameless end today.
He felt as if he wanted to die of shame and repentance for his failure. He studied the chronological sequence of events. He could not lay finger on his mistakes. It was apparent that he had no chance to a rehearsal in the near future. She would be armed and guarded all the while. Wait and watch was the only recourse left for him. He engrossed himself in devising ways and means of another orgy.
THE AFTERMATH.

She shut herself in the bathroom, locked the door tightly. She sat on edge of the tub unmoving, water running, filling the tub and over-flowing, her mind utterly boggled. She sat just doing nothing and reconciling in her mind as to what had happened and next what to do. She was totally confused at the turn of the events.

Her mind refused to function. She continued sitting still on the edge of the tub like a statue for almost few hours dumbfounded doing nothing. She then hovered around near the door, her ears straining for a sound, but no sound of his movement was heard from upstairs. She did not hear any noise nor overheard any activity or signs of his coming footstep while getting down the stairs. Atmosphere was as still as the grave. Nervously she pulled the towel more tightly around her shivering in the thin frock, at the very thought of what had transpired within the last few hours. She blamed herself for allowing him to advance further.

All sorts of ideas engrossed her and she was at a loss to find a way out of it. She could scarcely breathe and was panting like an animal. She sucked in for breath and heaved a long sigh of disgust about the state of affairs she had put herself in. Her heart missed a beat when she peered down the window to find that it was almost dark and it was night. She screwed her eyes tightly shut and uttered up silent prayers for her safety, every ounce of her concentration pouring into it. She vowed she would be good for the rest of her life. She would do anything.

She believed that God would do well to her. Her mother had told her that God was Goodness. HE was understanding and forgiving. HE would answer her prayers.
She never imagined that he might take advantage of her in this way. He lived in the house for the last many years. He was her mother’s mercy item. He had helped mother and was living with them. After her mother’s death it was after about a few years that he had advanced towards her in this way for the first time. Many times in the past, he happened to come upstairs in her room when she was sleeping or studying, but they never took notice of each other. They had taken each other’s presence for granted. Her mind was in turmoil. She knew not what to do. She felt Heaven had fallen. She thought of fleeing away from the house. Where to go was a problem. She never anticipated herself in such a terrible and helpless position. She was a carefree bird till now. She put aside all her thought and got up to change and clean herself. He must have dozed. After a while she heard footsteps descending the stairs passing the bathroom, opening shutters of the shop to attend to late evening customers.

She refilled the tub with hot water and rubbed and scrubbed herself so vigorously so as to wash away all the dirt of her body and soul. She washed her hair and poured water on her head for quite a while to steady her nerves and normalize her pounding heart. Cloudy morning had sure brought a clear evening. She recounted the events in her mind. She was feeling confused as to what she should do now. She felt his excited face. His behavior had ruined all her chances of a happy life ahead.

She will have to get rid of him or she would have to ask the Prince to allot her quarters to live in the palace.
In retrospection, she recollected his face when he came to her room, nervous, seeing her lying in the bed. An anguished moan came deep from within her. How she condemned him. There would be no more like this. She firmly resolved in her mind. There would be no more humiliation, no more groveling before him. She recollected how he had bent her, how he had seized her hands to make her helpless. How he had pressed his lips to hers. His mouth was warm and moist and tasted of the orange gum he must have taken. She recollected how he, then had moved his head and his lips traveled down her body, across her throat over her breasts. It was then that she had begun to fight him with a firm resolve to stop him,
She: “No.” she had murmured, writhing from him.
“No! Don’t touch me.!”

But he had not heard. She saw the red rage pumping in his temples. She could see the congestion in his chest. She remembered her hand pull loose and rake his chest, leaving bloody traces of her fingernails.
A terrible anger had risen up within her. She decided to be more alert and careful. She regretted herself for her negligence and overconfidence. She inducted him for all his treachery and misdeed and violation of trust and confidence. She hurriedly finished the bath. She tidied her clothes properly. After a lot of deliberation with herself, she stepped out.


On hearing the door of the bathroom open, he just came from the shop up to the doorframe and glanced at her as if it was a routine day and nothing had happened.

HIS VERSION.

His feelings for her were genuine. He had no mind to molest her. He just wanted to make her a woman. That’s all.
Since childhood both had lived under one roof. It was her mother who daily poisoned her ears about boys especially, him. Mother was responsible for her dislike for him. Mother emphasized that he was from a business class family. She was a royal class family. She should not mix with ordinary lot. According to mother he was from the ordinary lot.
She was a member of the royal family.
He was immensely in love with her. On her part she never reciprocated his feeling. She cut short matter with him. She did not take notice of the various favor and gesture of friendship he extended to her. She took him as a servant in the house. She used to order around. She used to taunt him, scold him, ill-treat him. In his love for her, he took all these gestures as act of an innocent young girl and that she did not mean what she did to him. After mother’s death, he tried to make efforts to win her over. She was full of dream and engrossed in her fantasy. She never appreciated his gesture and signal of love. Familiarity breeds contempt. He was an orphan. He was love-thirsty. By ill-luck, his parents abandoned him to the mercy of nature. Her mother happened to come across the boy, by sheer chance. She took him in her house. She provided him with shelter. She had her own motives to keep the boy.

It was a full time job for him. He was put to work at a tender age. He was provided residential quarters adjacent to the stable. She needed a servant, sort of a person to look after the house, animals and do all sort of handy work.
He studied himself all by himself at home by borrowing books from friends and sometimes he used to take away her abandoned books. His day used to pass away in cleaning the house, feeding the animals and pets and doing all sort of house-hold work from cleaning to sweeping mopping like that. All this hardly left him free to enjoy life. Life was an ordeal. Her mother had left no stone unturned in warning to beware of boys; never allow him to come near. They were at cross-swords right from the beginning. He knew that it was hard to live in Rome and quarrel with the Pope.

In fact he was born of a very noble heritage. his parents were the leading family in spices trade in the south. His was a very splendid life in his parents' abode. But Nature did not like Jimmy to keep rolling in wealth and luxury. His father had undertaken the sea-journey in his big ship despite his mother's advice not to go. As fate would have it, the ship was captured by the area- pirates. His father was taken as a hostage. He was thereafter killed. Here the mother could not bear the loss. She lost all charm in life and within a year she died out of shock.

He was jealous of her. She was a pampered child. she had the habit to command the entire estate including him. After mother's death they were living in the same way as before. There was no change in their routine life.



He was in love with her. She took him as a servant and nothing else. It was an attempt on his part to tame her and make her his girl.

THE CONCLUSION.

Man is an over-rated commodity than a woman. She is always under-rated. Man would never forget the past and its glory. The ancient history and mythological tales always impress him. He believes in illusion.
For example, the following:

“Like upon an ugly rock, ugly houses stay safe;
Come, and see my shining palace, built on sand.”

One has to fight his war within and outside. She never felt clean; howsoever much, she tried to wash herself. She was aware of his appetite for her. He would do it again if he had a chance and opportunity like before. She kept a straight face. She did not acknowledge his presence in the house. She had outcaste him. She kept no contact with him. She never as far as possible crossed his path. Her silence was deadening to him. He knew he had lost her. She was careful not to wish or smile or return his compliments if they happened to be together in kitchen.

She used to go to her room straight from college and used to keep the doors closed from inside. She was careful now not to leave her underclothes in the bath-room; never to let him see her in her under-clothes while going to bath-room or returning there from. She bathed in a hurry when it was dark. She was careful that he might not see her semi-nude or moving in nightclothes.

She abandoned humming singing or dancing by herself while moving around the house. She accepted that she was being watched. She had to be on her guard. Eternal vigilance is the price for safety and freedom.
She was often called a pretty girl in her class. More accurately she could be called a girl who would not go unnoticed in a group of girls. Her erect posture, economy of movement, was something rare in a young teen-ager. She had aged ten year within the last few days. Her eyes were half-shut; down cast, and not wandering and roving. She would hide and absorb all view, vile scenes. She was many times put in an awkward position, among group of boys in class, or in streets with men. She used to absorb wild gestures, direct pass, come-on signals, as if she did not see them. Her face used to turn stern and strict and hard at the very idea of an association with any man. She knew what pain and shame it was to be a woman! She shuddered at the very idea of rigid male flesh tear into a woman marching mercilessly savagely within, penetrating, to no limit, deep inside, choking, suffocating and smothering her, and the man abandoning, and walking out, after his lust had been satisfied.

Her outing consisted of going to college and back. Her schedule was regular like a timetable. Hungry males used to wait to see her. She used to move in the library in free period selecting books to read. The Librarian was fond to see her in a bent pose, her body bent gracefully to lift the books, and straighten again with the books to her bosom. She learnt to mind her business.


Inside her she used to shake and shudder but she kept a stern outward profile. Her bold front melted many a times and she was a nervous wreck. Had mother been alive! She would have no fear. She felt herself alone and unprotected. The world was an evil place, evil for rich girls and poor; evil for tall and short, evil for good-looking and the usual, evil for the entire woman kind.

She had to master art of living in a male-dominated world. Every step there was temptation. Every step there were nets spread to get her. Pits were made to trap her in. She was singled out to participate in picnic, annual function and all other college activity.
She was called under one pretext or other to participate in some program. Boys came to ask for her copybook and so on and so forth. They used to come to her through the small talk and claim to know her. Some were clever, some were clumsy but moral behind it was the same to create an occasion to speak to her, under one pretext or the other. She abstained from all these attraction. She never relaxed and went with any of them. She had to make her way against all odds. It was hard for her. She was coming up. It would not be her fault, if she slipped. She has to master the art of surviving and tackling the obstinate males. How easy it is for a clever woman to manipulate any man! Sex is a weapon. It is a game. They master this art well in time she turns twenty. It is a power God has gifted them over man. A woman who did not sharpen her weapons and kept them ready to shoot was a fool.

She wanted to work in some place after her studies. She was willing to work for lower wages. She liked to work in big fashion house. She planned to run away to Paris after her studies were over.

Till then she locked her dreams in strong box and concentrated her energy in her studies. Men in streets used to attend to her timing of going to college, and returning, watching her graceful undulation of body as she walked. They would stare at her invitingly and eagerly. She went to college and back with a stern demean and a severe face.
She had her own beauty when she was red with anger or flushed when she was made to wait or manipulated. No artist could capture her pose in any picture, or doing justice to paint her profile. She was beyond picture. She was beyond painting. She was a live volcano. Her fleeting sentiment and flowing emotion none could capture and treasure them. It was her own. She is a no body, if she did not become angry in a day. She was a different being when angry. She was seen shuddering, with blood rising in her as if she would destroy the world and everything around. She could feel her heart throbbing, lungs and the ribs enlarging to burst through the thin fabric of her dress. Her frame was a full five –six, slim fair and majestic looking, radiating light and luster.

“An evening out with her in her company would be sensational.” was everybody’s dream. “What the eyes do not see, the heart does not grieve about.”

A change of woman now and then is good for health. Wine, women and waltz are newly invented vitamins WWW. This was every man’s fancy.

She too had a sensation sometime, when she recollected her experience while going to sleep. It was a new feeling. She thought of forgetting. It was firmly imprinted in her mind; every small detail was available with her.


She had memorized it event by event step by step, minute by minute from the time the curtain opened till the end.
She would re-live with it so long as she was alive.
She felt his fingers. She felt his palm. She felt his hands –a mixture of fingers and palm together turn by turn arousing her to no limit. She felt his arms around her, his face close to her. He was not far off in her memory. She felt the dark beard and its tint shadowing the skin causing untold stories of her adventure. This was her treasure. She had it stored deep within her as a memory of an unforgettable event. Sometimes, she advanced her cheeks to put close to him for feel of its roughness on her skin. This was all wrong! Wrong! She could not forget it. It was coming again and again till sleep over come her. She loved him, the man whom she hated most. She wanted him to be produced before her so that she would punish him. She would be a terminator wanting nothing less than his head. All dreams. All talk. All false. My God! What is this?

Everything in her was scaled to proper size. She was a model, a real woman. To own apiece like that was an ambition every man. All are not lucky. Such pieces are few. You have to stand on one foot in meditation, for life to get her. There was no question of any plus and minus multiple and division. It was perfect beyond perfection. We see so many on screen, on stage, on front page of magazine. None could stand in comparison to this piece. She had put on a simple frock that day. Her hair had fallen down to her shoulders like spun gold. This scene of her and her lying on the bed gave him cricks in his neck.

There was something in her that attracted every man, drew every eye to have a glimpse of her. Her way of life was her own, unhurried and casual. Nothing surprised her.
Unaware of everybody, she was engrossed in her own way in herself and not caring what the world was doing, moving or falling. Her casual unhurried movement enticed many. She was not aware of hungry male-eyes ready to catch every of her movement of the slender frame in detail and at length. They used to see her right from her soft mass of hair tied in a ponytail with stark red ribbon-band. They watched the tip of her sandal, the simple white dress, flatteringly touching her hips outlining contours of her long shapely legs, all of which reflected and reinforced her sober personality, a glimpse of her to be stored in their mind as sweet memory. Her skin needed no advanced botanical element, added cream for a smooth and healthy look. It was naturally smooth and glowing.

She held her head high. Her chassis was solid to have an erect posture and economy of movement. She could be called pretty and would not go unnoticed by anybody. Such stuff was not to be seen on the road. She was meant to be kept indoors, away from the gazing eyes of the males. Her not too large, not too small mouth and thin lips were her ornaments. She needed no other ornament to wear. She can make way in the worst of the circumstance, filled with self-confidence, energy and freshness rare to be seen in others. She does not demand. She commands. She has to flicker an eyelash to get what she wanted.


She is soft-spoken and she is so sure of her that she is not required to repeat the same second time. She was the queen and all others were her subject and objects. She walks with easy steps and has grace and beauty in her walk.

Nature had gifted her with many oval shapes, especially the eyes, mouth, face, contours of eye-brows, oval eye-lashes, shadowing the oval eyes was her most positive point to advance.

Her beauty was exquisite. She was very attractive. She was very well dressed though subdued. She was very confident. She was very observant. The eyes were mostly half-shut with long jet-lashes closed like wings over the eyes. Time has an effect of healing all sorts of misery worry and difficulty in due course. She was in her last year of studies. She had passed almost four years with him in order to make her ready to jump in the open world. Exams were nearing. She had involved herself real deep in her studies. Every day had made her mature. Every night had made her stubborn. Her face was oval in shape, fresh with life in it. It was vibrating and communicating, emitting sensuous rays of magnetic current attracting everybody towards her. When she stopped, world stopped.

Once while going to college, she was having trouble on way to open the clamp of her purse and she had to halt a moment on road to set it right, all traffic behind stopped. She was unaffected. She would mind her business to shut the knob right, and moved ahead, unaware that she had created traffic-jam. She would unhurriedly precede a head to her journey to the college in an unaffected naturalness.

She entered the gate of the college in easy grace oblivious of the stolen glances of the bye-passers, as also the college-mates, who scanned every detail of her face, neck, breasts, body, waist, hips, legs, her dress, and her feet caged in the shining sandals. She met every stare of the male-eyes without any trace of effect, and without registering any recognition and her vision passing on, from one object to the other.

The past did not trouble her. She had forgotten it as an evil nightmare. The past had been buried. Only the future concerned her. She was on her own in this lonely world. Nothing had been handed to her on a plate. She had to build her own empire of life. Treachery had ceased to surprise her. In fact relatively few things surprised her any more. She had learnt to expect the worst from the people. She had pushed sentiments and emotions aside. She was a brick of a stone as far as she was with regard to her relations with the outside world. Ties of the blood and the flesh did not come to help in the hour of the need. She developed her instinctive attitude towards each of the individuals she used to come in touch with and behaved accordingly as per the dictates of her heart. History does have a way of repeating itself. She refused to anticipate the events. She prepared herself to meet with them as they came.

She shelved the unsolved problems. She concentrated on her priorities. She had inherited her mother’s good traits. She wanted the degree certificate in token of having passed the necessary exams. She displayed genuine willingness to weigh the pros and cons of every aspect of the case before arriving at a decision, when necessary she made compromises.


She wanted to consolidate herself mentally, financially and socially. She wanted to establish herself as a separate entity. She started her life schedule to come in the eyes of the neighborhood and the society. She had to create her own circle of acquaintances. The situation was disastrous and damning. She had to come out of the hodgepodge. She had developed herself into a tough and trained negotiator. Of late her self-confidence had grown.

Her affairs were not cut and dried as could be settled in a few moments. The prospect of living in the present ancestral house was not exciting. She wanted a way out that was safe sound and secure. She would have to be on a look out.

By the time she had turned twenty, she had her nerves of iron-more appropriately, and she had the nerves of steel. She could not be easily tackled. She could not be easily impressed. She had no time to waste after her school-friends, or college friends, who could see nothing beyond their sad and dismal lives. She was not interested in their feuds, took no sides when two friends quarreled and took their case to her. The repeater students were losers were always trying to be over-friendly with all, to win their sympathy, because they had no one to speak to. She watched out for repeater outcasts who clung to whosoever to come across with. It was fatal to let them link themselves to her.

“A man is known by the company he keeps.”
“A woman is known by the man she keeps.”


It was better to stay alone than to mix, move with the wrong people. To her one day was as precious as another was. Her elocution professor had outlined a program for her, which kept her sufficiently busy at home. She had observed the life about her with attentive interest and took it as a strict warning. Her friends used to dream about men. An accident or another would rescue them, and saved at the very moment, they were about to perish, by a prince nobleman, who would take them, to his quarters and maintain them for life. She was now a realist and practical. She did not entertain such dreams. She decided to take life as it came. She left the past behind and did not worry of the future. She concentrated on the present.

She practiced her voice to be melodious, soft, well modulated, and professional. After reaching the age, her voice had considerably changed. It was low-pitched and compelling voice of an artist, a skillful lady. Her smoothly shaped arms and legs contrasted with those of her class girls who had knotty, knotted short or medium size legs. Her mother had taught her how it was comfortable to remain clean. Hair became prettier when shampooed. She had taught her the manners to eat at the small table, a challenge so formidable that she had fits of terror remembering the first incident mother had sternly looked at her finding her eating without the fork and the knife. Her mother had always warned her of the need to wear quality underwear items. She insisted that a girl should remain clean all the time.


Mother: “You never know when you would wind up in an accident and in an emergency hospital room.”
One is judged on the basis of the quality of her lingerie and the dress she is wearing. Her mother had adopted a very strict code of life since childhood to all her life. She expected her to follow the same meticulously.

She was eager to see the world. She had not seen the country even. She had heard her Elocution Professor telling in the class that New York was the best place in the world to take the conceit out of a man. She was impressed and desired if she would be lucky enough to see New York in her lifetime. She wished to be a ballet-dancer. She was on a look out for a ballet-manager under whose guidance she could be an able ballet-dancer.

She had blossomed into a full-fledged woman. She felt thrills and despairs of loving and caring. She was envy of every other woman. Her dancing ability led her to try out for the National academy. She was a gifted dancer. She seemed to express through her dance, sensitivity and meaning beyond meanings beyond her years. She was accepted by the National Academy. She was considered one in a hundred thousand to be selected for the academy. With five years of intensive training she was at the Top. When she had come to the academy she was in need of shelter. Now her needs had expanded into a longing for identification. She tried to reconstruct threads of her past life. She was in constant demand. She did not lose her head. She remained the same unassuming her despite her meteoric rises in the world of dancing.


To her utter surprise she came face to face with Prince James. He was the Guest of Honor, at the Annual Dance Competition at the Dance Academy. She received the prize at the hands of the Prince. The Director of the Academy introduced her to the Prince.

The Prince made her sit beside him. He collected all her details. She was asked to accompany the Prince to the palace. She was allotted separate quarters. She was allotted staff to attend to her. She was adopted as the Princess of the Kingdom. She was put under charge of half a dozen tutors engaged in tutoring her various language and international outlook. The Prince asked her to accompany him when he attended public functions. She was trained for horse riding. She was taken to hunting trips to be unruffled in the worst of life saving circumstances.

The Prince took her on a journey to Southern Europe. They were guest of honor at all the Kingdoms. She developed a habit to address Women Organizations, like YWCA, whenever they happened to get a chance to do so. Her views about preserving the Woman’s Myth interested them. She said that the advertisement showing woman’s cosmetics, lingerie, stay free sanitary napkins needed to be stopped. She preferred women, and their cosmetics and personal items should be left to the care of women advertisers only. Vulgar display of such intimate items belittled the dignity and image of woman community at large.

She wanted to create a popular opinion all around, to put an end to such advertisement in newspapers, TVs, depicting women as toys of man’s fancy. Woman had her own independent identity. She lived independently on her two feet, had her own existence. Such advertisements depicted women by and large as subordinate to the males. She stressed the need to put an end to it.

She was a lucky one to get the break. She was an exception to the rule. She fell in the right hand of the Prince James. Her future was safe and sound with the royal family. This happens with a rare few. She kept her head on her shoulders. She did not lose it. She was on her toes all the while to take care of her. She was careful not to involve herself in any controversy or scandal. Her behavior was that of a Royal Princess. She happened to move in the uppermost crust of the society. At the Top it is real Heaven. She had no problem. Life was easy for her. The world was at her command. She had to just order.

LE VOIX DE LA POPULI.

What gets into their minds? Why in the name of Love don’t they stay where they belong? Believe it or not but it is a fact that wifehood is the best hood in all circumstances. Grab it, when a chance comes. Why are they not content with what they are great at? Why do they pursue other career or a job? Is entertaining a man not their career, a job? They spoil both.

They can not do justice to the career, at the same time they could not be good housewife. Life becomes a tragedy. Any way that is life. A shoemaker can not be a good tailor-master and vice versa. A carpenter can not be a good blacksmith and vice versa. Why do they not stick to their jobs they are good at? I do not refer to her in particular. I refer to them as a whole in general. In her case she had resorted to a career in dancing. Is it not entertaining the men? Yes. It is. So there is no problem. They can be good teachers. They can be good nurses. They can be good singers. They can be good doctors. They can be good volunteers, an asset to the voluntary agencies. They are not good as bosses.

In her case she was meant to be a good housewife. She would do everything that was required to be done of a housewife. She would be loud, free, in her grumbling about day to day hardships of life felt by a domestic wife. She liked to criticize anything and everything about daily occurrences of life including the weather that is the heat, the cold the rains the dry spell etc. She was particularly exasperated at the attitude of the servants, the stores clerks, bus drivers, taxi drivers, or hairdressers, or the laundry man in their dealings with customers. She was quite cross at the incompetent world and an unpredictable weather. These two subjects were her favorite topics and she would speak on them like an authority for any period of time. She would be a charming smiling seductive wife. She would be an efficient homemaker.

Her man would always desire her. She would prove a good kitchen keeper where the coffee was always hot and food quite appetizing, the rooms would be always well furnished and clean, the beds properly made and flowers properly arranged. She would be a sweet agreeable wife. Touchwood. Great fun and good living was certain in life with her. She would be a live company. Life would never be boring. Presence of the woman in the house softens the dull atmosphere.

It is called a Home. It is no more a bachelor’s quarters. People visit you, respect you as a respectable family. She was meant to be a good mother of her children. She could handle six with ease and comfort. The seventh would be her man. She would handle all of them with a stern look and a heavy hand. Her man can not play around. That is for sure.