Skeletons in my closet part 16
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Swati Ch. 01 free porn video
Author’s Note: I am writing about events that happened long ago. I write with the benefit of hindsight as well as with the knowledge of Swati’s innermost thoughts, feelings and motivations that she has so generously shared with me over the years.
I would appreciate receiving readers’ feedback. That is a great motivator for an author.
***
I’ve known Swati ever since we were kids. We grew up in the same small city in Maharashtra. Our mothers knew each other as they belonged to the same little taluka town in the interior of Maharashtra. Since they came from the same place, they shared a natural affinity. So our families used to visit each other quite often and we children used to play together. Swati is around three years older than me and my earliest memory of her is that of a thin, gangly, bossy girl in pigtails towering above me. She is the eldest in a family of two girls and a kid brother, while I am an only child. She was (and is) a natural take-charge type and would always be the one to decide what games to play and she would be the one to take one’s complaints to whenever there was a fight or a dispute. All of us kids just naturally accepted her writ.
Her parents’ marriage had caused quite a scandal in its time. Her father Laxmanrao was an ambitious, smart, flamboyant, aggressive, wheeler-dealer lawyer / businessman / smalltime politician belonging to one of the so-called ‘backward’ castes while her mother Kusum came from a conservative small town Brahmin family. They had met while both were studying in the city – she was enrolled in the medical school while he studied law. Both were active at the fringes of India’s freedom struggle. However, those were the waning years of the Raj and the British had already made up their minds to cut & run at the earliest opportunity. So her parents had not had to face the lathi & rifle wielding might of the British police. Quite fortuitously, the timing of their entry into the freedom struggle had been exactly right: early enough to be rated as ‘freedom fighters’ while not so early as to be actually put to the inconvenience of being sent to jail or worse. Laxmanrao was smart enough to extract the maximum advantage out of his status as a ‘freedom fighter’ and (much later) as a ‘backward caste’ person in post independence India.
Like many people belonging to the ‘backward’ castes, Laxmanrao too had an enduring fascination about Brahmins & all things Brahminical. Although he was very proud of his own caste identity, it was his secret ambition to become a part of the Brahminical upper stratum of society. So, his falling for the slim, fair, pretty Brahmin medical student wasn’t just the normal response of a red-blooded male to a desirable female. For him, her charms were multiplied a hundredfold because she was an alluring symbol of everything he aspired to become part of. He made up his mind to have her and set about assiduously to woo her. Although he was several years older than her, he was dashing and worldly, had excellent contacts and was adept at getting things done. Besides, he was swarthy, well-built and fairly good-looking in a rough-hewn, macho way.
Swati’s mother Kusum was born into a poor middle class Brahmin family in a small taluka town. He father was a highly respected school teacher. He came from a very old fashioned, conservative family. However, he had enthusiastically and wholeheartedly adopted the progressive and enlightened values and attitudes preached by the many great thinkers and social reformers whom Maharashtra was blessed with in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Since he believed that educating the populace was the ultimate panacea to all the ills besetting the Indian society, he had chosen teaching as his calling. He had also supported & encouraged all his children (including daughters) to acquire the best possible education & become self-reliant. He was an ardent nationalist. He had inspired an entire generation of young people to make sacrifices in order to attain freedom from the oppressive British rule. He also firmly believed that the deeply entrenched caste system was at the root of most of the evil in India. So, it was no wonder that Kusum’s family commanded the highest respect in the community, in spite of being poor.
Kusum was a very bright, idealistic & rather naïve young girl who had imbibed all the values & attitudes of her father. In reality, she was swept off her feet by the swarthy, bold, self-assured young freedom fighter taking so much interest in her. Her upbringing had not quite prepared her for this and she didn’t know how to respond to him. After initially rebuffing his advances, Kusum had eventually succumbed to his persuasive charm. They had waited patiently while she completed her arduous medical course. He was always there to give her a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on, as needed. They gave notice of their intention to get married just a month prior to the date of her examination results & got married in a civil ceremony the very next day. Neither of them had any relatives in the city. So, there were only a couple of close friends present to witness the marriage.
Their families lived in distant taluka towns. The state of communications in the pre-independence days being what it was, they came to know about the wedding only when Laxmanrao & Kusum came to seek their blessings as man and wife. There was utter consternation all around. Kusum’s father was the first to calm down & bless the couple. He could see that this was a logical culmination of the principles & values he held so close to his heart. After the arrival of Swati exactly nine months & nine days after her parents’ wedding, Kusum’s mother too reconciled herself to this unequal match.
Laxmanrao’s parents didn’t accept their Brahmin daughter-in-law. In fact, the elders of their caste panchayat decided to ostracize Laxmanrao & forbade their caste brethren to have any contact with him. They considered his marrying a girl from another caste to be an insult to the honor of their own. It was only years later, when continuing to isolate themselves from Laxmanrao’s growing wealth, influence & power became detrimental to their self-interest did they finally reconcile with him.
Laxmanrao had all the right contacts in the new post-independence dispensation. If he had wanted, he could easily have arranged to get himself elected to the state assembly and become a minister too. He however preferred to operate in the background. He quickly grew adept at working the levers of the ‘license-quota-permit’ system and soon acquired substantial wealth. He built a big bungalow in the best locality of the city and acquired a new Hindustan 14 car.
Laxmanrao was determined to ensure that his children had all the advantages that he himself had had to do without in his childhood. Swati & her siblings were always well dressed and attended the best English medium ‘Convent’ school, rubbing shoulders with the children of other privileged parents. Laxmanrao had given his wife a free hand in bringing up the children. Kusumtai had largely succeeded in instilling in the children her own middle class Brahmin values like thrift, hard work and a respect for education. In consonance with her own progressive & liberal outlook, her children were encouraged to make friends across barriers of class, caste and gender. As her children grew up, they became aware of their parents’ mixed marriage and implicitly understood that they too had the freedom to choose their life partners. In matters of sex, Kusumtai like most women of her generation was very conservative, her children were made to understand quite clearly that sex in any form before marriage was taboo.
Unlike Swati’s mom, my mother had a rather more conventional life. She too had grown up in a poor but highly cultured Brahmin family. She had gotten married at nineteen to a groom selected by her parents. My father was a man of progressive values. He had encouraged his young wife to complete her education. I was born th
ree years after my parents’ wedding, a year after my mother had graduated from university with a first class honors degree. Post natal complications unfortunately rendered my mother unable to conceive again, to her lasting sorrow.
As I said, my early memories of Swati are of a tall, thin, gangly, bossy girl. I didn’t take much of an interest in girls those days and she was just another playmate in my disinterested pre-adolescent eyes. What I distinctly remember is that she had a few rather prominent pock marks on her face, the result of a recent, particularly severe attack of chicken pox. Anyways, my father (who had a transferable job as a middle level civil servant) was transferred out to another town and we lost contact with Swati & her family.
***
We Meet Again
After an almost five year hiatus, my father was transferred back to our city. By this time, I was in high school while Swati was studying arts in a prestigious women’s college. Kusumtai (Swati’s mother) invited us to dinner one day and that’s when Swati hit me between my eyes. I could hardly recognize her. She had filled out in all the right places and rather puzzlingly, seemed to have grown shorter as well. I later realized that she was of just about average height for an Indian girl and appeared shorter to me only because I had gained quite a few inches in the interregnum.
Her face was round. Her nose was short & up-turned. Her lips were full, almost thick. She wore her thick, silken, dark brown, shoulder length hair tied in a ponytail. Her skin was fair, smooth and velvety. She didn’t have any problem with acne, the bane of many youngsters. Even the pock marks didn’t look so prominent now. In fact they seemed to add character to her face. However her most striking feature was her large, sparkling, expressive eyes. They shone & danced mischievously as she spoke animatedly. In addition to the fact that all girls of a certain age look very pretty, her self confidence, grooming & manner of speech made her even more so, although she was by no means a raging beauty. That day she wore a simple cotton blouse and a matching, dark colored cotton skirt that modestly covered her knees. Her calves and ankles were slim & dainty. Although her blouse was loose fitting, it didn’t conceal the fact that she had a well developed, high bosom. Altogether, she presented the picture of a healthy, wholesome, demure, yet very attractive young Indian girl.
I have always been a rather shy person and in her presence I became even more tongue-tied. In contrast, she was a fluent talker, liberally sprinkling English words in her conversation. She had well developed social graces and chatted effortlessly with us. I guess I had always been in awe of her & now, this new Swati almost seemed like a creature from another planet. She spent some time trying to draw me out of my shell and occasionally ribbed me and pulled my leg when I became even more solemn & withdrawn. At one point her mother gently admonished her and asked her to leave me alone. I couldn’t get her off my mind for quite some time even after we had returned home.
In the weeks and months that followed, I found myself visiting Swati’s home quite often. I got along particularly well with Swati’s younger siblings – sister Kirti, who is about a couple of years younger than me and brother Kirit who is two years younger than Kirti. We enjoyed playing together. I am rather good at sports and loved to teach Kirti & Kirit to play badminton at a makeshift court they had in their backyard.
Whenever Swati played, my attention used to wander from the game and on to her figure. Some times, I was rewarded with a flash of cleavage or a quick glimpse of a shapely thigh as she ran & pranced around the court, chasing the shuttlecock, dressed in a skirt and Tee shirt. It was no wonder that the quality of my game invariably nosedived when I played against her. I fluffed the easiest of shots and on one occasion tripped & fell, much to the merriment of Swati & her siblings. I of course resented the humiliation, but swallowed it silently. In spite of this, my visits to Swati’s home continued and my eyes always furtively searched for Swati whenever I visited them. I used to feel a palpable sense of disappointment if Swati was not around.
In those days Swati’s attitude towards me was rather patronizing. Perhaps she still looked upon me as the brown, scrawny little boy of my early childhood. Or maybe it was because she had studied in an English medium ‘Convent’ school she felt superior to those like me who studied in vernacular schools. She affected a ‘Convent School’ accent and just barely hid her mirth at my attempts to speak English in my desi accent.
The only reason I could even understand English at all was because of my father. He loved the language. He had a fairly large and eclectic collection of books written in English, covering children’s books, classics, thrillers and humorous books, non-fiction books covering current affairs, science, philosophy & so forth. He had always supported and encouraged me to learn English and given me free access to his library. We also used to regularly listen to All India Radio’s English news broadcasts (I still remember Melville D’Mello’s flawless English diction and velvety baritone voice). However, we always used to converse in Marathi, my mother tongue. So, although I couldn’t speak fluent English, I had an excellent vocabulary, I could read effortlessly & also write reasonably well.
Swati was a bright student, always close to the top of her class. On the other hand, those days I was not particularly interested in studies, and although I never had any difficulty in scoring pass marks, my scholastic performance was nothing to write home about. This was perhaps another reason why she looked down upon me.
I naturally resented her attitude & sometimes wondered why she even bothered to talk to me if she felt that I was not her equal. It was only much later that I understood what made her behave that way. In spite of her scholastic performance & her father’s wealth and influence, Swati had to suffer subtle discrimination at the hands of some of her class mates & occasionally also by some teachers, on account of her father’s ‘backward’ caste. This was all the more galling since she, like her father wanted desperately to be accepted as part of the high caste society. I was the unfortunate target of her anger & frustrations: being a Brahmin, I symbolized her upper caste tormentors and was a soft target, not being able to hold my own against her verbal aggression.
And yet, occasionally departing from her condescending attitude, Swati could be quite sweet & nice too. I think that at a subconscious level, she too was attracted to me. After all, I had grown quite tall, had a powerful physique, was not bad looking and above all, I was a Brahmin, that most desirable quality in her eyes. Perhaps her verbal put downs were an attempt to hide the attraction. Be that as it may, I didn’t understand any of this at that time and the only reason I put up with her bitchiness was because I was so completely infatuated with her. I was willing to do anything to win her respect. She was well aware of my infatuation and was quite adept at keeping my attention riveted upon her. In retrospect, I think that many flashes of her hot young body that I glimpsed while we played badminton were not entirely accidental.
One day it transpired that Swati was having some trouble learning to ride a scooter and out of the blue, her mother Kusumtai suggested that I might be able to teach her. Actually, although I had been riding bicycles since early childhood, I had never ridden a scooter till then. However, I was not about to admit this. I gallantly agreed with her suggestion. It was decided that I would come by after a couple of days to give Swati a scooter riding lesson.
Our family didn’t own a scooter at that time, so I spent a couple of hours with a scooter owning friend, learning the ropes of kick-starting the engine, chang
ing gears & so forth. I am pretty good with my hands & feet and quickly mastered the skill.
On the appointed day, I went to Swati’s house. I had bought some chikki (a sweet made from roasted peanuts & jaggery) on the way, from a roadside vendor. It was around half past six in the evening. It was the beginning of winter and dusk had already fallen. The air was cool but not yet chilly. Swati’s mother was about to leave for her clinic as I arrived. She hurried out after welcoming me.
Swati wore a salwar kameez outfit that day and looked ethereal to my infatuated eyes. We shared the chikki after making sure that her mother had left – being a doctor, Kusumtai frowned upon children eating unhygienic street food. I explained to Swati the basics of starting the engine, operating the clutch, changing gears & so on. She barely paid attention and impatiently wanted to start the riding lesson right away. We decided that a large parade ground on the outskirts of the city would be an ideal place for the lesson, since there would be no traffic there. I drove the scooter to the parade ground while Swati sat side-saddle behind me.
At the parade ground she took the driver’s seat while I sat behind & reached around her to steady the handle bars as she gripped them. This naturally brought us in close proximity and I felt an electric excitement run through my body. I wasn’t too sure but I felt her breath quickening too. After a couple of false starts she got the hang of releasing the clutch without stalling the engine and we were soon circling the parade ground at a fairly fast clip.
I had withdrawn my hands from the handlebars and held the grip provided for the pillion rider, allowing her the freedom to maneuver the scooter. Yet I leaned anxiously forward, peering over her shoulder, ready to take control in case she faltered. Her soft fragrant hair brushed against my face and I breathed in her exciting feminine aroma. She was thrilled with her accomplishment and let out a whoop of joy, revving up the engine. She wiggled around a bit on the driver’s seat to make herself comfortable and pushed back slightly, bringing her back in contact with my chest. I tensed up a bit but then relaxed, since she didn’t seem to mind this contact.
‘Ouch!’ Swati suddenly shouted and the scooter wobbled. I immediately took control of the handle bars as she let go & started rubbing her eye. I slowed & stopped the scooter, managing not to fall. We dismounted and I pulled the scooter on to its stand.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
‘Something went into my eye.’ She said, rubbing it hard. She was breathless and scared because of the close call.
‘Let me see.’ I said, tilting her face up and peering into her eye. It was almost dark and I couldn’t see a thing. I balled up my handkerchief, warmed it up by breathing hard into it and then held it against her eye, to provide some relief from the pain. After doing this a few times, the pain subsided and she was able to open her eye again. Perhaps the speck of dirt had been washed out by her tears. She breathed a sigh of relief and I was aware of her eyes glittering even in the semi darkness.
Then suddenly, she threw her arms around me and kissed me on my lips. That was my first ever kiss. Even today, I distinctly remember the smell of peanut chikki on her breath. I hugged her too & felt her trembling, soft body against mine. Almost immediately, she pushed me back & sprang out of my embrace.
‘Let’s go home. You better drive.’ She said in an unsteady voice.
This time, she sat astride on the pillion, throwing her arms around my waist & holding me tight. I was acutely aware of her soft breasts pressing against my back and the discomfort of my trousers constraining my hard-on. I drove as slowly as I could, to prolong the intimate moments. She let go of me only when we approached the city and could possibly be seen by passers-by. We didn’t exchange a word on the way back to her home. Fortunately, there was nobody at home when we arrived. She quickly ran inside while I parked the scooter & then rode home on my bicycle.
Nadene
- 23.12.2022
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