Adultery The Swamiji: The Ashram of the Sacred Angels

[shailu4ever]

Scene: The Silent Departure

 
The days that followed moved with the unyielding rhythm of the Ashram.
 
The routine, once foreign and strange, began to settle into the marrow of Ahalya and the other new recruits, shaping them in ways that were as subtle as they were profound.
 
Each day was marked by the same sequence of events: the early mornings filled with meditation, the silent hours spent in labor, the evenings devoted to shared meals and quiet reflection.
 
The teachings, though not verbal, were steeped in the actions they performed, each task, from sweeping the gardens to preparing the evening meal, was imbued with its own quiet wisdom.
 
The slow march of time seemed to erase the sharp edges of their former selves, softening their movements, their words, their thoughts.
 
But through it all, something inside Kavya began to shift, growing darker, more restless.
 
At first, it was only a subtle tension, a hesitation in her steps during the work.
 
Then, it was the look in her eyes, distant, as if she were not truly present in the moment.
 
Every day, her discomfort grew like a shadow stretching longer with the setting sun, an undercurrent of something just beneath the surface.
 
She avoided the other girls more and more, retreating into herself, her silent manner now tinged with something deeper, an unspoken longing, a yearning for something that could not be named.
 
Kavya's struggles were unspoken, but they were impossible to ignore.
 
She began to pull back from the routines, her tasks becoming more mechanical, as if she were no longer truly there.
 
It was as if the Ashram’s steady rhythm, which had once seemed so inviting, was now something suffocating, something that made her feel as though she were drowning in a place that should have been saving her.
 
Each passing day, the light in her eyes dimmed just a little more, until it was no longer the soft, open gaze of the girl who had once arrived with hope, but something harder, something unwilling to surrender.
 
Ahalya could feel it too, the weight of it, though she did not yet understand the cause.

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[shailu4ever]

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She found herself watching Kavya more and more, noticing the way her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the Ashram’s silence was bearing down on her.
 
The distance between Kavya and the rest of them grew with each passing day, until it felt as though she were a ghost among the living, a specter who had never truly belonged here.
 
It was early morning when the change first rippled through the Ashram.
 
The sky outside still held a faint bruise of twilight, the air cool and soft as it passed through the open windows of the dormitory.
 
Ahalya awoke with the strange, heavy sensation of a new day weighing down on her chest, like a secret, still too unformed to grasp.
 
She rose from the mat slowly, stretching her body into the familiar rhythm, each motion measured, deliberate, as if she were part of the Ashram itself, woven into its fabric of stillness.
 
But something felt different today.
 
The air seemed denser, the forest outside louder, as though the trees themselves were speaking in a language she could not yet understand.
 
She stepped quietly into the courtyard, her bare feet making no sound against the cool stone path.
 
The garden, which was always serene, now seemed tense, as though waiting for something to unfold.
 
The pale stone walls of the Ashram stood firm and unmoving, but in their stillness, there was a subtle unease, an energy that hinted at something unseen, something shifting just out of view.
 
The other Sevakis moved in their familiar routines, each one absorbed in the silent choreography that defined this place.
 
Their gazes were steady, their bodies unhurried, but Ahalya noticed the whispers that passed between them—those fleeting exchanges, those glances that lingered too long, eyes that darted away before they could be caught.
 
The silence that greeted her felt different today too. Hushed, thick.
 
As she continued through the courtyard, the stillness grew more pronounced, more oppressive.
 
The air felt full of questions, though none of them could be voiced.
 
Everything was holding its breath.
 
Then, she saw Meera.

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[shailu4ever]

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Meera was standing by the door to the central hall, her posture calm but something about her was different.
 
There was no smile on her lips today.
 
Her face was serene, as always, but it held a weight that made Ahalya hesitate before approaching.
 
"Good morning," Ahalya said, the words sounding too loud in the quiet morning air.
 
Meera’s gaze met hers, but there was something unreadable behind her eyes.
 
She did not return the greeting in the usual way.
 
Instead, she nodded once, her hands clasped in front of her, like someone holding something fragile in their grasp.
 
Without a word, Meera gestured for Ahalya to follow her.
 
The walk through the inner circle was slow, measured.
 
There were fewer Sevakis today, their movements more deliberate, as if they were all somehow holding back, waiting.
 
Ahalya could feel the weight of the silence closing in around them, a palpable force pressing against her chest.
 
As they neared the hall, the distant sound of chanting could be heard—low, constant, like the hum of something alive, something ancient.
 
But today, it sounded faint, distant, as though the sound itself was struggling to be heard.
 
Inside the hall, the others were gathered.
 
All five of the new recruits sat in a quiet semicircle, their faces still and reflective, yet there was something unsettling in their stillness.
 
The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, and for the first time, Ahalya felt a true weight of unease settle in her stomach.
 
Meera moved to the center of the room, standing in front of them, her gaze sweeping over each of their faces with an unsettling calm.
 
"There is something you must know," Meera began, her voice low, yet clear. "One of you has left."
 
Ahalya’s heart skipped a beat. Her gaze shot to the others—Kavya, the girl with the wide, searching eyes, who had always clung to her side in silence.
 
Where was she?
 
Her absence felt wrong, as though the shape of the world had somehow shifted, leaving a hole in its fabric.
 
"Kavya?" Ahalya’s voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed like a question no one wanted to answer.
 
Meera nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Ahalya’s.
 
"Yes," she said simply.
 
"Kavya expressed the wish to leave.
 
She felt—" Meera paused, as though carefully choosing her words, her gaze sweeping over the room again. 

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[shailu4ever]

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"She felt she could not fit here. She could not surrender in the way we ask of those who stay."
 
There was a soft rustle behind Ahalya, and she turned to find Anjali’s eyes wide with disbelief. The others were just as silent, processing the words in their own way.
 
But Ahalya could not shake the feeling that there was more to this than Meera was telling them.
 
"But why now? Why not earlier? Why didn't she say something?" Ahalya thought, her chest tightening.
 
Meera continued, her voice softer now, as if the words themselves were fragile, like something too sacred to be spoken too loudly.
 
"Kavya was not forced to leave. We do not keep those who are unwilling." Meera’s gaze shifted to the far corner, as though searching for something unseen in the shadows.
 
"She came to us with the intent to find peace, to surrender. But the Ashram asks much of those who seek truth. And some... are not ready to give all."
 
Ahalya’s pulse quickened as she processed the words.
 
Not ready to give all.
 
What had Kavya been holding back?
 
"I didn't know her that well... but... she was so uncertain, always questioning. But still—she wanted to be here. Didn’t she? Wasn’t she trying?" Ahalya thought, confusion rippling through her mind.
 
The room was thick with a strange silence, the kind that crept in when a person had disappeared and left something behind, something undefined, something that didn’t belong.
 
Meera took a slow breath, letting the weight of the silence stretch out before she spoke again.
 
"Kavya's departure is... part of the Ashram's rhythm. It is not a failure. It is not something to mourn."
 
Her eyes flickered briefly over the group, each of their faces painted with concern, curiosity, and something Ahalya couldn’t quite place.
 
"The Ashram has a way of revealing the truth to us, but that truth is not always what we expect."
 
Ahalya looked at the others, her gaze moving from Anjali to the freckled-faced girl, then to the youngest recruit, who had her face turned downward, her hands clasped tightly together.
 
No one spoke.
 
"Is this really how it works?" Ahalya thought.
 
"Is this what happens to those who cannot fit in? To those who fail?"
 
Her own heart felt heavy in her chest, as though a thick veil of doubt had settled over her, shrouding everything.

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[shailu4ever]

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Meera finally broke the stillness, her voice measured, as though she were offering something both comforting and dangerous.
 
"The Ashram does not need to explain itself to anyone. It does not owe you answers. It gives you only what you can bear."
 
She stepped forward, her gaze unflinching. "Kavya could not bear it. So she left."
 
Ahalya’s breath caught in her throat.
 
The weight of the words pressed down on her chest, stifling.
 
She could almost see Kavya’s face again, the way she had looked on her first day—eager, yet uncertain, constantly looking for something, some deeper meaning, perhaps that elusive answer.
 
And now, she was gone.
 
"What happens to those who leave? Is that it? Is there no return?" Ahalya wondered, the question ringing through her thoughts like an unspoken truth.
 
Meera let the words settle, giving them time to sink in, to be absorbed by the air around them.
 
"There is no shame in leaving. This is not a place for everyone. You must each find your own path." Her eyes flickered toward the girls again.
 
"The Ashram’s door is always open, and its walls are always watching. But what you choose to bring, or leave behind, is yours alone."
 
Ahalya glanced at the others, all of them still holding their silence.
 
The absence of Kavya felt like a hole in the room, an unsettling gap that none of them could fill.
 
"She was here, and then she wasn’t. Just like that." Ahalya thought, "And now... it feels like there’s nothing left of her. Just the space where she used to be."
 
Meera turned to leave without another word, and the other Sevakis began to stir, the room once again coming alive with the soft shuffle of fabric, the quiet hum of life returning.
 
But Ahalya remained frozen, her thoughts locked in place. The Ashram had swallowed Kavya without a sound, and she was gone—just like that.
 
"Am I ready to stay?" Ahalya wondered. "Am I truly ready to let this place take everything I am?"
 
The air hung heavy in the room, pressing against her skin as the silence stretched, an unfamiliar discomfort beginning to stir deep inside her.
 
As the others began to leave, Ahalya lingered, staring into the space where Kavya had sat just a few days ago.
 
The seat was empty now, and the stillness was so absolute, it felt as though the Ashram itself had swallowed her whole.

-- oOo --

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[shailu4ever]

Scene: The Next Level

 
Six weeks had passed since Ahalya's arrival. Six weeks since Kavya’s departure. The memory of Kavya’s terrified final look had begun to blur, softened by the Ashram's relentless rhythm.
 
Time here did not pass, it dissolved, and questions became harder to hold when your hands were always occupied, when silence was the default, when every moment was structured around service.
 
Ahalya had stopped noticing the absence of choice. The realization came not with alarm, but with a strange calm. Or perhaps she’d learned to experience it as freedom.
 
In those six weeks, the Ashram’s unyielding pace had woven itself into her life, and she, in turn, had woven herself into its fabric.
 
The work had become second nature, a quiet dance of rhythm and labor, sweeping the courtyards, cleaning the temples, preparing simple meals with hands that had learned to move with efficiency, with a purpose she had never known before.
 
Her body remembered the tasks even when her mind drifted. Each day felt like a brushstroke of time, each movement a prayer. The silence she had once found stifling was now something she could breathe in, something she had come to crave.
 
"I can no longer remember what the noise of the outside world sounded like," she thought to herself one evening, as she bent over a patch of the garden. "What is it that I've become?"
 
Yet despite the silence that enveloped the Ashram, there were moments when Ahalya still found herself restless.
 
There were times when the weight of her own thoughts pressed against her chest, when she could not escape the memory of the girl she had once been, untouched, unformed, just beginning to stretch her wings.
 
That girl felt distant now, like a half-remembered dream.
 
Those moments had become fleeting, though, as the Ashram moved like an unbroken river, sweeping her forward, leaving nothing but the faint echo of the past behind. "Was that the old me? Or was that just the beginning of what I am to become?"
 
It was Meera who came to her after morning meditation, her expression warm with something that looked like pride.
 
Approval here was rare, and when it came, it carried weight. Ahalya could feel the shift in the air as Meera approached her, the same way a change in the weather might be felt before it was seen.
 
"Gurujii wishes to see you."

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[shailu4ever]

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Ahalya’s heart quickened at the words. "This is it," she thought, the weight of the moment settling over her like a fine mist.
 
"What will he say? What does he see in me?" Her breath came a little faster, though her body remained still, as if her soul had taken an unspoken breath to prepare for what was to come. Stillness had become a discipline.
 
The thoughts whirled inside her, "Was she ready? Would she live up to his expectations? Was there anything left of herself to offer?"
 
Meera led her through the Ashram, their footsteps soft against the stone paths. The sun had just begun its ascent, filtering through the dense canopy of the forest and casting dappled light on the ground.
 
Light and shadow moved together here, inseparable. Everything seemed quieter than usual, as though the Ashram itself had fallen into some collective anticipation.
 
Ahalya's pulse was steady, but beneath it, there was a flutter of excitement, a nervousness she hadn’t expected. "Why am I nervous?" she asked herself. "Is it because of him? Or because of what he might ask me to do next?"
 
They reached the administrative building, and Meera gestured for her to enter. The room was as simple as she had imagined, yet still imbued with a quiet sense of power.
 
The walls were lined with ancient books, some sacred texts, others journals, their spines worn with use, the paper inside yellowed with age. Knowledge here felt accumulated, layered, heavy with intention.
 
At the center of the room was a low table and cushions, placed with precision, as if even the arrangement of furniture held meaning. The scent of old wood, dust, and incense lingered in the air, mingling with the faint sound of the river flowing just beyond the window.
 
The atmosphere felt like an altar, and she was the supplicant.
 
Gurujii sat cross-legged on one of the cushions, facing the window, where the light surrounded him like an aura.
 
He appeared less like a man and more like a presence.
 
Ahalya felt a slight pull in her chest, as if something inside her recognized the stillness in him.
 
His silver hair gleamed faintly, and when he turned to look at her, his eyes were steady, penetrating, as though he could see something beyond her surface, beyond the mask she had carefully crafted.
 
"His gaze feels like a touch," she thought, "as if he is reaching for something buried deep within me."
 
"Ahalya. Please, sit."

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[shailu4ever]

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"Ahalya. Please, sit."
 
She lowered herself onto the cushion opposite him, folding her hands in her lap, her movements precise. Precision had replaced hesitation. Meera remained standing by the door, watching without speaking, a quiet presence at the periphery of the room.
 
"You have been with us six weeks," Gurujii began, his voice soft but carrying a weight that made Ahalya sit straighter, her attention fully focused on him. "Six weeks," she thought. "It feels like both an eternity and no time at all."
 
"Meera tells me you have absorbed the practices well. Better than most."
 
Ahalya felt a warmth spread through her chest, but it wasn’t the kind of pride that might have bloomed in her before the Ashram. No. It was something deeper, more grounded. Pride implied ownership; this felt more like alignment.
 
Praise from him felt different, more substantial, more meaningful. "He sees me," she thought, a whisper of satisfaction curling in her chest. "And it is not the girl I was who has come this far. It is the woman I am becoming."
 
"I’m trying," she replied softly, her voice steady though her heart thudded in her chest.
 
"Trying?" she thought. "No... I’m flowing. I’ve learned to move with the Ashram, to be at peace within it. But I feel this pull, this hunger, deep inside me, like I’m waiting for something to break open. For him to see me."
 
"Trying suggests effort. I see no effort in you anymore. I see only flow. This is rare."
 
His words were like a benediction, and yet something about the way he said it made her shiver, as though the compliment held a deeper truth.
 
A truth that carried expectation. He looked at her with an intensity that seemed to go beyond observation, as though he could see into the very marrow of her soul. "Flow," Ahalya repeated in her mind.
 
"What does he mean by that? Does he know the struggle that still stirs within me?" Her hands tightened in her lap, as if trying to hold on to something solid while the ground shifted beneath her.
 
He paused, allowing the words to settle between them before continuing. "Tell me, Ahalya. Do you feel you have found what you came here seeking?"
 
The question settled into her like a hand on her shoulder, heavy and gentle. She considered it carefully, the weight of it pressing down on her chest. "What did I come here seeking?" she wondered. 

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[shailu4ever]

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"Clarity? Peace? Or did I simply want to escape who I was?" She opened her mouth to speak, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t come. Some answers resisted language. How could she explain something so subtle, so shifting, that even she couldn’t fully understand it?
 
"I feel... clearer," she said slowly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Like the noise has quieted. I don’t know if I’ve found anything yet. But I feel like I’m moving toward something."
 
There was a quiet moment before Gurujii responded, and in that pause, Ahalya could feel something shifting in the air, a subtle current that hummed with a strange energy, as though the very room was holding its breath.
 
"Is he testing me?" she thought. "Does he believe I’m ready for whatever is next? Or is he simply speaking of things that I have yet to understand?"
 
"Yes," Gurujii said, his voice measured. "You are moving toward your true purpose. And I believe you are ready for the next stage of your development."
 
Ahalya’s breath caught in her throat. "Next stage?" Her pulse quickened, the words tumbling through her mind, each syllable like a bell ringing in the quiet.
 
"What does he mean? What does he see in me that I cannot yet see in myself?" The thought of moving deeper into something, surrendering, stirred an unease in her, something foreign, almost terrifying. But it was also exhilarating. "What is this next stage? What will I become?"
 
Gurujii stood, and Ahalya watched him with a mixture of awe and unease. He moved to the window, his figure bathed in the golden light of the morning. Light framed him the way doctrine framed truth.
 
Meera remained silent, her presence like a shadow behind him.
 
"There are levels of seva," Gurujii continued, his voice a soft thread in the quiet room. "What you have been doing, garden work, cleaning, basic service, this is foundational. It teaches the body to obey, the mind to quiet.
 
But there are deeper forms of service. Forms that require not just compliance, but transformation."
 
Ahalya leaned forward slightly, her heart thumping against her ribcage, as though something was about to break open inside her.
 
She had long ago accepted the rhythm of the Ashram, its quiet servitude, its endless repetition, but now, Gurujii was speaking of something more, something far beyond the work she had come to know. 

"Transformation?" she thought. "What will that transformation cost me?"

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[shailu4ever]

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"In our tradition," he continued, his voice taking on a more profound cadence, "we have a practice called Divine Sevaki. "
 
"These are women who have moved beyond ordinary service into sacred service. They become vessels, not for their own will, but for something higher. They serve not just the Ashram, but the devotees who come here seeking spiritual elevation."
 
Ahalya listened, her mind trying to grasp the enormity of his words. "Vessels. Sacred service." What did it mean to serve in such a way? How could she, who was still learning to surrender, be ready for something so profound?
 
Her body tensed as she imagined herself becoming a vessel, her identity not her own but intertwined with something far greater.
 
"I believe you have the capacity for this work," Gurujii said, turning back to face her. "But it requires a level of surrender most women cannot achieve. It requires you to release your final attachments to modesty, to personal boundaries, to the ego’s need to control how you are seen."
 
His words pierced her, a truth that felt both frightening and undeniable. "To surrender completely," she thought. "To let go of everything I have known. Is this truly the work I came here to do?"
 
"What would it involve?" she asked before she could stop herself, her voice barely a whisper.
 
Gurujii exchanged a glance with Meera before he returned to his cushion and sat, facing her once more.
 
"It begins with a ceremony. The EkVastra ceremony. You would be given the single saffron garment of a Divine Sevaki and undergo purification rituals that prepare you for sacred service. After this, you would work more closely with devotees, guiding them through practices, assisting in their spiritual elevation."
 
Ahalya’s breath quickened. "A single garment..." The image of it filled her mind, its color like the setting sun, so bright it burned into her vision. "What will I become when I wear it?"
 
"Like Meera does?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
 
"More intimate than what Meera does. Meera coordinates. Divine Sevakis facilitate direct experience." He paused.
 
His gaze steady on her. "I will not lie to you, Ahalya. This work will challenge everything you believe about yourself. "
 
"It will require you to see your body not as your own, but as an instrument of the divine." He continued.
 
"Not everyone can do this. Many women reach this threshold and turn back. There is no shame in that."
 
The way he said it, no shame in turning back, made turning back feel like failure. The choice was being shaped even as it was offered.
 
Yet, she felt something stir within her, as though the choice had already been made. "I came here to surrender," she thought. "To release the parts of myself that I no longer need."
 
"When would this ceremony happen?" she heard herself ask, her voice steady despite the storm within her.
 
"Tonight. If you are willing."
 
So fast. No time to think, to question, to let doubt grow roots.
 
And yet, wasn't that the point? Hadn't she come here to escape the paralysis of overthinking? To surrender to something larger?
 
"I’m willing," she said, the words coming out before her mind could stop them.
 
Gurujii smiled then, and in his smile was approval so profound it felt like love.
 
"Good," he said softly. "Meera will prepare you."

-- oOo --

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[shailu4ever]

Scene: The Prep for EkVastra Ceremony

 
The preparation began at sunset, a time when the air was thick with the fading heat of the day and the promise of a cool, quiet night. Meera led Ahalya to a part of the Ashram she had never seen before.
 
The path wound through dense foliage, the entrance barely visible, half-hidden behind flowering vines heavy with the scent of jasmine and champak.
 
The air was humid and perfumed, thick with the smell of blooming flowers, and the sounds of the Ashram faded into the distance, replaced by the faint rustle of leaves and the whisper of insects awakening for the night.
 
Ahalya felt a curious tension in the air, something both sacred and hidden. "Where is she taking me?" Ahalya wondered, a ripple of nervousness running through her.
 
"Why does it feel like this is a place few have seen?"
 
The path felt almost secretive, each step pulling her deeper into something unfamiliar, a world far removed from the everyday rhythms of the Ashram.
 
The shadows lengthened, and the last golden rays of sun cast a trembling, otherworldly light over the path, heightening her sense of awe and unease.
 
The space they entered felt ancient, older than the Ashram itself, as if the stones had witnessed centuries of rituals and transformation.
 
The bathing chamber was carved from stone, dark and smooth with age, its very walls imbued with the weight of history.
 
The air in here was still, heavy with a kind of reverence.
 
Oil lamps flickered along the walls, casting shadows that danced across the carvings, apsaras, devatas, and scenes from ancient myths, figures that seemed to come alive in the dim light, watching them as they entered.
 
Ahalya’s breath caught as she stepped closer. The sunken bath in the center of the room was large and deep, the water so still that it mirrored the lamplight like molten gold.
 
Rose petals floated lazily on the surface, adding a soft, delicate touch to the otherwise primal beauty of the space.
 
The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood, jasmine, roses, and something darker, earthier, a hint of vetiver, maybe, or lotus root.
 
The scent overwhelmed Ahalya’s senses, clouding her thoughts, pulling her deeper into the atmosphere, making her pulse quicken.

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[shailu4ever]

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Ahalya’s chest tightened with a rush of anticipation and awe. She felt both calm and unsettled at once. "What is this place?" she thought. "It feels like an altar. Sacred. Ancient. I’m not sure I’m ready for what’s about to happen."
 
As her eyes moved around the chamber, she saw the three women waiting for her.
 
Women she recognized but had never spoken to in depth, Priya, with her strong, steady gaze; Radha, who moved with the grace of a dancer, always calm, always in the kitchen; and Leela, whose quiet, serene eyes held a depth of experience Ahalya couldn’t quite understand.
 
The three women were wrapped in the saffron EkVastra, their presence commanding in the stillness.
 
Priya’s voice broke the silence, smooth and steady. "Welcome, sister," she said, her words like an invitation, yet carrying the quiet command of something much larger than herself.
 
"We will help you prepare. But first, we must all be equal. All must be bare before the goddess. The ritual requires it."
 
Ahalya’s stomach tightened as the realization hit her with a sudden, overwhelming force.
 
"They're going to take off their EkVastra." The thought seemed to hit her in waves, the sacred cloth, the one thing that had marked her as part of this world, was going to be removed.
 
"What will be left of once it’s gone?" Her hands clenched slightly, as if trying to hold onto some last fragment of familiarity.
 
Ahalya felt her heartbeat rise, thudding in her throat, reverberating through her chest. "Bare before the goddess." The thought both terrified and exhilarated her.
 
She had known that she was here to surrender, to let go, but nothing had prepared her for this moment. Bare, physically, emotionally, spiritually. "What would it feel like to give up everything? To become everything?"
 
Without hesitation, Priya began to unwind her EkVastra. The cloth slipped from her body in a single, fluid motion, falling to the floor like a whispered offering.
 
Her skin, bathed in the glow of the oil and flickering lamplight, shimmered with a warm, golden glow, highlighting the subtle strength in her shoulders and arms.
 
Every curve, every line of her body seemed sculpted with care, a harmony of muscle and softness that made her form appear both powerful and delicate.

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[shailu4ever]

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"She is perfect," Ahalya thought, "like a living work of art."
 
Priya stood still, her naked body glowing in the lights of the lamps placed around them, the weight of the moment hanging in the air around her.
 
There was a stillness to her body, a quiet power that came not from raw force but from elegance and strength intertwined. Priya’s form was sculpted, sleek, and refined, like a statue carved by an artist who had seen the divine in her.
 
Her breasts were full and elegant, rising from her chest with a natural, luxurious roundness that was both soft and proud, yet never heavy.
 
They were perfectly proportioned, curving with a subtle fullness that drew the eye in a way that was both graceful and sensuous, without being overtly sensual.
 
"Her breasts are both full and dignified," Ahalya thought, her gaze lingering. "They carry the weight of her grace, standing as an offering to the divine in the most humble of ways."
 
The muscles of Priya’s arms were taut and lean, a result of the discipline that ran through every part of her life.
 
There was a fluidity in her movements, a grace that was cultivated from years of controlled labor, and yet beneath that grace, her arms possessed a quiet strength, the kind that comes from knowing one's power and choosing not to flaunt it.
 
The lines of her body were sharp, defined, purposeful, as though each curve and plane had been honed by the rhythm of her work in the Ashram.
 
Ahalya marveled at how unashamed Priya was, as though her body was just another sacred offering, neither to be flaunted nor hidden.
 
"How is it that she stands so unburdened and completely naked?" Ahalya thought, captivated by her composure, her self-assurance radiating from every inch of her.
 
Priya’s waist was slender, narrowing into the gentle curve of her hips, which were slight but elegant. She was not full-figured, nor did she possess the same kind of strength as Radha, but there was a femininity to her form that radiated grace.
 
Her figure didn’t demand attention; it simply held it. The smoothness of her skin, unmarred by scars or imperfections, was like that of someone who had never had to battle against her own body.

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[shailu4ever]

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Happy Bhoghi

Wishing you a joyful and vibrant Bhogi! May this auspicious day bring new beginnings, prosperity, and happiness to you and your loved ones. As the fire of Bhogi burns away the old and makes space for the new, may your life be filled with peace, positivity, and abundant blessings. Enjoy the warmth, the celebrations, and the time spent with family and friends.

Happy Bhogi to You All 

With Love

Shailu

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[shailu4ever]

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"She is the embodiment of quiet confidence," Ahalya thought. "Every inch of her seems designed to fit into a larger purpose, without resistance, without effort."
 
As Ahalya’s gaze shifted lower, she saw the length of Priya’s legs, long and lean, like branches of a tree, slender and graceful. The muscles were defined, but not overtly so, giving her legs a fluid quality, as if they moved effortlessly across the earth.
 
She was the opposite of muscular strength, Priya’s beauty was one of subtlety and refinement, not raw power. Her thighs were toned but narrow, and the shape of her legs spoke not of physical labor but of a life that had been lived in balance and quiet ritual.
 
"Priya’s beauty is one of stillness," Ahalya mused. "It’s not the kind of beauty that demands attention, but the kind that pulls you in without you even realizing it."
 
Looking at Priya, Ahalya noticed the softness of her face, her features sharp yet delicate, like the delicate petals of a flower. Her lips were full, well-formed, and her eyes, dark and penetrating, held a sense of wisdom and experience.
 
They were steady, unwavering in their gaze, as though they had long since understood the world in a way that didn’t require explanation. There was a stillness in her eyes, a quiet, profound kind of power.
 
Her nose was perfectly proportioned, not too delicate, not too bold, and it complemented the angularity of her cheekbones, which seemed to define the elegance of her face.
 
"Priya’s face is like a sculpture," Ahalya thought. "It holds both softness and strength, as if carved to reflect something divine."
 
When Priya stood there, fully revealed, Ahalya couldn’t help but feel that her body was an offering, a living manifestation of refinement and discipline, shaped by years of ritual and dedication.
 
Priya’s beauty wasn’t loud or striking. It didn’t demand attention, it simply radiated presence, a quiet force that spoke of a deep connection to something greater than herself.
 
"She is not here to be admired," Ahalya thought. "She is here to remind me that beauty can come from within, from a life of purpose and devotion."
 
"How does she do it?" Ahalya thought. "How is she so free, so naked, so unburdened?"

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 
Then Radha followed, and Ahalya’s eyes moved to her with the same sense of awe.
 
Without hesitation, Radha stepped forward, her movements fluid and precise, each step deliberate yet seemingly effortless.
 
As she unwound her EkVastra, Ahalya’s eyes followed her, drawn immediately to the strength radiating from every line of Radha’s body. Unlike Priya’s sleek elegance, Radha carried a quiet power, a body forged through years of steady work and discipline.
 
Her shoulders were broader, the muscles in her arms defined but soft at the edges, hinting at the strength she had cultivated without needing to announce it.
 
"Her body speaks of endurance," Ahalya thought. "It is strong, but it moves like water, capable and graceful."
 
Ahalya’s gaze traveled down Radha’s torso. Her waist was narrower than her hips, giving her an hourglass balance that felt natural, yet commanding.
 
There was a firmness in her abdomen, a subtle tension that spoke of a core trained to support her every movement, every task.
 
Her ribs curved gently beneath her skin, smooth but not fragile, and Ahalya noticed how her torso seemed to flow into her hips with an understated elegance, unlike Priya’s more sculpted, stately lines.
 
"Radha’s body is a vessel of work and devotion," Ahalya thought. "It is alive with energy, not just beauty."
 
Her breasts were full, round, and heavy with the weight of life’s labor, positioned perfectly on her chest, balancing her figure with a quiet, self-assured femininity.
 
They were not the delicate, soft curves that Priya’s were; these were bodies built for function. Yet even in their robustness, there was an undeniable grace.
 
The slight curve of her breasts, strong but supple, the way they shifted as she moved, felt like the embodiment of a life lived without vanity, but still full of care.
 
"Her breasts are not just for beauty," Ahalya thought, watching Radha move. "They are symbols of nurture, strength, and motherhood, a woman who knows how to give."

.

[masti.bhai]

I think it's going the way I anticipated. Knock on woods.
I hope to see outstanding erotic scenes in fabulously lavish settings that only women can do .
Eagerly waiting to lap it all up.

[shailu4ever]

I think it's going the way I anticipated. Knock on woods.
I hope to see outstanding erotic scenes in fabulously lavish settings that only women can do .
Eagerly waiting to lap it all up.

Hi Masti.Bhai

Thank you so much for your feedback. I'm glad to hear that the story is heading in a direction that you anticipated. I'm definitely excited to explore those rich, immersive settings and capture the essence you're hoping for.


Rest assured, I'll make sure the scenes live up to the expectation of being both captivating and elegantly crafted. Your enthusiasm is truly appreciated.

Looking forward to sharing more with you soon.

Once again thank you for your continued support.

With warm regards

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

.

Happy Sankranti and Happy Pongal 

Wishing you a joyous and prosperous celebration as we welcome this season of new beginnings. May the warmth of the festival fill your heart with happiness, and may the harvest bring you success, peace, and abundance.

As we mark this special time, may it offer you fresh opportunities, cherished moments with loved ones, and a brighter path ahead. Whether it's Sankranti or Pongal, let's celebrate the beauty of togetherness and the promise of a bountiful year.

Happy Sankranti / Pongal to you and your family.

With Love

Shailu

.

[masti.bhai]

Nothing to do with you or your story.

What if the writers and readers meet anonymously in person?
Crazy idea, right?