22-12-2018, 08:28 AM
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time trying to draw me out of my shell and occasionally ribbed me and pulled my leg when I became even more solemn & withdrawn.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 , 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 , 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, changing 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.
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 , 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 , 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, changing 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.
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