Adultery The Ashram: The Desire for the Sacred Angels

[shailu4ever]

Nice Start Shailu

Keep it coming.

Hi Rajesh

Thank you so much for your compliments. I’m glad you liked the start. I’ll keep it coming and hope you continue to enjoy the story.

I truly appreciate your continued support and all the ratings you have been giving. 

With warm regards

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

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The stone paths stretched ahead, bathed in the silver light of lanterns hung along the way, casting faint shadows that seemed to stretch and shift like living things. As they walked, the soft hum of the forest rose around them.
 
The distant chirping of cicadas, the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze, and somewhere, far off, the low murmur of the river.
 
Ahalya led the way almost unconsciously. The others followed, gravitating toward her as if drawn by her quiet certainty, the subtle aura of strength she carried, which had already begun to shape the rhythm of this new world.
 
She wasn’t trying to be a leader. She wasn’t trying to stand out. It just happened, as if everything around her was aligned to her presence.
 
Kavya, who had been the most nervous, spoke again, her voice still soft, but a little less uncertain.
 
“Do you think we’ll be able to manage?” she asked, her eyes flickering to Ahalya’s. There was a hopeful vulnerability in her voice, and Ahalya could hear the fear beneath the surface, as though Kavya wasn’t asking for an answer, but for reassurance.
 
Ahalya’s smile was small but confident, a protective gesture that spoke of more than just words. She shrugged lightly, her voice a quiet whisper, like a soft breeze.
 
“We’ll learn,” she said. “Just… take it one step at a time.”
 
The youngest girl, her eyes wide with uncertainty, tried to match Ahalya’s stride but stumbled slightly, her foot catching the edge of the stone path. Without thinking, Ahalya reached out instinctively, brushing her shoulder with a gentle touch to steady her.
 
The action was casual, yet it was enough to calm the girl, her nervous expression softening into something like relief. Ahalya was always watching, always noticing those around her.
 
Another girl, the quiet one who had barely spoken, broke the silence with a soft, hesitant voice.
 
“I’m scared I’ll do something wrong,” she whispered, clutching her bag tightly to her chest as if it were a lifeline.
 
Ahalya looked at her, her eyes soft with understanding. She noticed the way the girl’s hands trembled. It was more than fear of the Ashram. There was a deeper anxiety, a fear of inadequacy that Ahalya could relate to in a distant way.



.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

“No one will scold you,” Ahalya said gently, her voice unwavering, though her own thoughts lingered on the same question. “Just watch, and do what they do. That’s all.”
 
The last girl, the freckled-faced one, gave a soft, nervous laugh, as if trying to lighten the mood.
 
“You sound like Meera, Ahalya,” she said. “Calm, like nothing can touch you.”
 
Ahalya smiled faintly, but the expression was a mix of understanding and protective warmth. She wasn’t calm. Not really. She simply knew how to observe. To see more than others could. “I’m not calm,” she said quietly. “I’m just… noticing more than the rest. That’s all.”
 
They reached the edge of the inner circle, and for a moment, the girls stood together, looking back at the faint glow of the dining hall.
 
The night pressed closer around them, the sounds of the forest now a soft blanket over their senses.
 
The faint flicker of lanterns bathed their faces in a subtle light, and for a moment, they were just five girls, ordinary, uncertain, but already beginning to forge a bond.
 
“Do you think we’ll ever get used to it?” Kavya asked again, her voice quieter now, as though the question held no easy answers.
 
Ahalya looked at each of them in turn, noticing how the light caught in their eyes, how their fears and doubts were already becoming shared.
 
“We’ll get used to some things,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “Other things… we’ll just have to learn to live with. Together.”
 
As they walked toward their rooms, the quiet bond that had formed between them was palpable. Their steps were tentative, but they were moving forward, side by side, linked by a growing, fragile trust.
 
Ahalya, taller and more graceful than the rest, led them silently, her presence as steady as the ground beneath their feet.
 
When they reached the doors to their rooms, the silence lingered. Each girl moved into her space, the night already beginning to settle its weight over the Ashram.
 
Alone in her room, Ahalya lay on the hard mat, staring at the small patch of stars visible through her window.
 
The sounds of the forest, the distant rush of the river, whispered softly to her.
 
She closed her eyes and let the gentle rhythm of the water soothe her.
 
She was safe here, yes. But she knew the Ashram was already beginning its work on her, shaping her, molding her into something new.
 
Something inevitable.
 
The day had ended. Tomorrow, it would begin again.
 

-- oOo --

[shailu4ever]

Scene: Unlearning
 

The bell woke her before dawn. Its sound was a soft, gentle insistence, not the harsh clang of an alarm, but a call from a deeper place. It wrapped around Ahalya like the whisper of a forgotten dream.
 
She surfaced from sleep, the world blurry, unsure for a moment where she was. The room was dim, shadows clinging to every corner, the air cool and still. “Where am I?”
 
A faint rustle of fabric outside her door brought her back to herself. She could hear the soft, rhythmic footsteps moving along the stone path outside, Sevakis, the women of the Ashram.
 
The low murmur of voices, too quiet to understand, filled the spaces around her. “Ah, yes... the Ashram.”
 
Her feet hit the cold floor, the chill of the stone creeping up her spine, but there was no time to linger. Ahalya rose quickly, splashing cool water from the brass vessel that had appeared by her door, its cool surface almost too real in the half-dark.
 
“When did that arrive?” she wondered.
 
Her hand brushed against the polished metal, the water spilling into her palm, its touch grounding her in the strange, dream-like quality of the morning.
 
She dressed quickly in one of her kurtas. The soft cotton fabric slid over her skin like a second layer, comfortable but still foreign. She pulled her hair into a loose knot, trying to ignore the weight of everything she didn't yet understand.
 
When she stepped outside, the air was thick with the smell of jasmine and damp earth, an intoxicating mix of fragrance and the weight of nature itself, ancient and alive. The sky was still dark, stars just beginning to fade, their light slowly surrendering to the growing darkness.
 
The Sevakis moved around her with an almost unseen grace, their footsteps in perfect rhythm, as if they were part of the very earth they walked upon.
 
"They move like they belong here," she thought. "As if the ground knows them."
 
Ahalya joined them, stepping into the silent current that carried them toward the main hall. Her steps were soft, careful, as though she were trying to move unnoticed through a world that already had its own rhythm.
 
The others around her, their faces solemn and calm, seemed to glide with certainty. She felt, for the first time, the weight of being an outsider here.

[shailu4ever]

.

 
As they neared the hall, Ahalya’s eyes were drawn upward, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to take in the full scope of the Ashram. The pillars stood tall, like silent sentinels, their intricate carvings softened by the dim light of early morning.
 
Lamps had been lit, their tiny flames dancing in the shadows, casting soft, flickering light on the stone. The air was filled with the faint smell of incense, the quiet scent of sandalwood and something sweet and herbal.
 
A sense of timelessness hung in the air, as if nothing in this place could be hurried, as if the world itself had agreed to slow down for just a moment.
 
Inside, the Sevakis had already arranged themselves in rows, sitting cross-legged, their hands folded in their laps, their bodies aligned with the silent rhythm of the Ashram.
 
It was instinctive, this quiet order, this graceful synchrony that seemed to pulse through them all. Ahalya found a place near the back, beside Kavya, who was sitting stiffly, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.
 
Her face was tight with uncertainty, her eyes flickering nervously over the rows of women who sat around her.
 
Ahalya glanced at her briefly and gave a small, reassuring smile. But even as her lips curled into the semblance of a smile, a strange weight settled in her chest. Was she reassuring Kavya, or was she reassuring herself?
 
Kavya’s eyes darted briefly toward Ahalya, then away.
 
"She looks like she might disappear if no one notices her," Ahalya thought, not unkindly.
 
The other three new girls sat nearby, one with long dark hair pulled too tightly back, her posture rigid with effort; another smaller, freckled, her lips pressed together as if holding something in; the youngest, barely eighteen, her knees drawn close, shoulders folded inward.
 
Five girls. All new. All watching.
 
Meera stood at the front, her presence commanding, yet calm, like the eye of a storm. Her hands were folded, her posture perfect. She waited, still as a statue, until the last of the footsteps settled, the hall filled with stillness. Then, without a word, she began.
 
“Morning is when we remember who we are not,” she said, her voice carrying easily in the vast silence. It wasn’t loud, but it filled the room with a presence all its own. 

[Pvzro]

Wow great way of putting the story keep going dear

[shailu4ever]

Wow great way of putting the story keep going dear

Hi Pvzro
 
Thank you so much for your kind and encouraging compliments. It truly means a lot to know that you enjoyed the way the story was presented. Feedback like this gives me motivation and confidence to keep writing and improving.
 
I really appreciate your support and encouragement, thank you for taking the time to share it.
 
With warm regards
 
-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

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“We spend our lives building selves, names, desires, identities, preferences. Here, we practice setting them down. Not destroying them. Simply setting them down, the way you might set down a heavy bag after a long journey.” She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.
 
Ahalya’s breath hitched. She hadn’t expected that.
 
“Setting them down?” What did that mean? Could she do that? How could she just... let go of who she was?
 
Ahalya felt something tighten in her chest.
 
"If I set myself down… what’s left?"
 
Meera gestured for them to sit, and the Sevakis moved with practiced ease, the shift of their bodies barely noticeable, as if they were all part of a single fluid motion. Ahalya, however, felt the awkwardness of her own movements.
 
She lowered herself to the mat slowly, conscious of her legs folding beneath her, the weight of her body pressing into the hard floor. The simple act of sitting felt unfamiliar here, too raw, too real.
 
She closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind, but the questions came back, crowding her thoughts. When do we eat? What are the rules here? What happens if I don’t let go?
 
“Close your eyes. Find your breath,” Meera’s voice called, gentle, like the soft pull of the tide. “And with each exhale, release one thing you believe you need to be.”
 
Ahalya tried to find her breath, to draw it in deep and steady, but her mind raced, thoughts flickering by too quickly.
 
“What should I let go of?”
“What am I supposed to release?”
“Who am I supposed to be here?”
"What happens after this?"
"When do we eat?"
"What are the rules?"
"Am I doing this right?"
 
She could feel her chest tightening, the weight of her own breath against the pressure in her lungs. Her breath felt shallow, uneven. She tried to slow it, to focus, but the thoughts returned, circling like insects.
 
"Why can’t I be still?"
 
“Do not fight the thoughts,” Meera’s voice broke into her internal storm, soft but knowing.
 
“Simply watch them pass.”
“You are not your thoughts.”
“You are the sky they move through.”
 
Ahalya’s pulse quickened, and she held her breath, but the weight of Meera’s words sank deep. “The sky...” It was such a simple image, yet it felt profound.
 
“I am the sky...”
“I am not my thoughts.”
“I am not my fears or my name.”
“I am... the sky.”

[shailu4ever]

.

Ahalya let out a slow exhale, her shoulders dropping just a little.
 
“The sky. Just watch them pass. Let them move through me.”
 
Minutes seemed to stretch and collapse in on themselves. Twenty minutes? Forty? Time felt like a distant concept here.
 
The silence around her became so thick it was almost tangible, as though the air itself had weight. Ahalya felt herself sinking into it, her breath growing deeper, slower.
 
Time stretched.
 
Her legs began to ache. Then numb. Sensation faded until her body felt distant, abstract. She floated somewhere between awareness and surrender.
 
Finally, Meera rang a small bell. Its sound was sharp, but soft, breaking the stillness. Ahalya’s legs were numb, her body heavy from the stillness, and for a moment, she couldn’t move.
 
But the Sevakis around her rose with perfect coordination, their movements fluid and unhurried. Ahalya followed, feeling the pins and needles shoot through her calves as she stood, clumsy and unbalanced.
 
“New sisters, please stay,” Meera said, her tone unchanged. The hall emptied until only Ahalya, Kavya, and three other new girls remained. The quiet between them felt heavy, like an unspoken agreement to remain in this space, still and undisturbed.
 
Meera smiled, her expression warm and measuring.
 
“That smile... it’s like she’s seeing something in us.”
“Something we don’t see in ourselves.”
"Why does it feel like she sees more than I’ve shown?"
 
Ahalya felt an odd weight in her chest, as if Meera’s gaze was pressing against her, pulling something from her, something she hadn’t even known was there.
 
“Well done,” Meera said softly, her voice a balm to the tension in the room. "You have begun the first step. To unlearn everything you think you know about yourself. You are not who you were when you arrived. You are becoming something else. Something new.”
 
Ahalya stood there for a moment, taking in the weight of her words. She felt the truth of them settle inside her, heavy and unyielding. She wasn’t sure what she was becoming yet, but she felt something shifting, like the quiet pulse of the earth beneath her feet, pulling her deeper into its rhythm.
 
“I am becoming something new.”
 
Kavya shifted beside her, her hands trembling slightly. She glanced at Ahalya, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "What now?" Ahalya’s gaze softened. She didn’t have an answer. Not yet. But something told her that the Ashram had already begun its work on her, and there was no going back.
 
The silence lingered, and the other new girls stood motionless, waiting. The Ashram, it seemed, was waiting too.

-- oOo --

[shailu4ever]

Scene: Becoming
 

“You will spend this week learning the rhythms of the Ashram,” Meera said, her voice quiet but firm. “Not through instruction, but through participation. We do not teach here. We show, and you absorb. Like learning to swim, no amount of explanation replaces the water.”
 
Her eyes moved slowly over the five new girls, resting briefly on Ahalya, who felt the weight of her gaze in her chest. Then, without waiting, Meera turned and gestured for them to follow.
 
Ahalya’s heart beat with a low, steady thrum in her chest as she moved. Outside, the morning air had begun to warm, the mist turning golden under the sun’s rising gaze. It hung in the air, a delicate veil, softening everything it touched.
 
The light moved around them, filtering through the trees, dancing along the edges of leaves and grasses.
 
Meera led them to a garden, an expansive space behind the kitchen.
 
Rows upon rows of vegetables, herbs, and flowering plants stood in perfect, silent alignment. The air here smelled of damp earth, of fresh basil and thyme, of something green and raw. The earth felt alive beneath her feet, as if it too breathed with them.
 
“We tend this together,” Meera’s voice slid through the warm air. “Each morning after meditation. Three hours. The work is simple: weeding, watering, harvesting. But we do it with attention. Every movement is practice. Every breath is prayer.”
 
She knelt slowly, with an ease that looked almost like grace. The way her body sank to the earth, like a natural part of it, made Ahalya’s chest tighten. Meera reached down with both hands, her fingers sliding gently around the base of a weed.
 
She pulled it from the soil, her movements smooth, deliberate, the earth parting like soft flesh. She examined the roots, as if considering some secret within the dark soil, and placed it in her basket with care, a ritual of precision that took no more than thirty seconds.
 
And yet, it felt like she was performing surgery.
 
“Begin,” Meera said softly, her voice like a quiet wind.
 
The five new Sevakis spread out among the rows, each kneeling carefully beside their assigned bed. Ahalya found herself at a patch of tomatoes, the small, dark green plants heavy with fruit, their vines weaving into each other.

[shailu4ever]

.

 
Ahalya reached down, the coolness of the earth against her fingers almost shocking. As her hands worked, pulling away weeds, a sense of something slow and meditative wrapped around her like a blanket.
 
But it was still work, labor, and soon Ahalya felt her back begin to ache. Sweat gathered at the edges of her brow, slipping down to mingle with the warmth already rising in the air. Heat pressed against her shoulders, her skin tingling beneath it.
 
She did not look at the others. She could feel the presence of the other new girls, but there was only the steady rhythm of movement, of hands in earth.
 
And the sound, soft rustling as hands moved through the plants, the gentle tugging of roots from soil, the distant hum of bees in the air. There were no words between them, no sound except for the quiet hum of their work, the breath of the earth.
 
The work was still, but it was also consuming.
 
After what felt like hours, the bell rang, its sound like a soft call, a ritual pause.
 
“We wash now,” Meera said, her voice drawing them from the garden as the others stood with unhurried ease.
 
They were led to the bathhouse, a simple structure made of stone and wood, open to the air. Water ran from bamboo pipes, filling large basins in the floor. The cool, clear liquid shimmered in the rising sun.
 
The air inside was fragrant with the scent of cedar and damp stone. The older Sevakis moved without hesitation, peeling away their clothing, the same quiet, practiced grace that Ahalya had already come to associate with them.
 
The other new girls followed, shedding their clothing without self-consciousness, as if it were as natural as the morning’s first breath. They were unburdened, their skin glowing faintly in the soft light, their bodies already becoming part of the rhythm of the Ashram.
 
Ahalya hesitated.
 
She had never been comfortable with her body, never been taught how to feel at ease in it. From childhood, it had been something to hide, to obscure, to shape into something less.
 
But now, here, in this place, there was an undeniable pull, the quiet invitation of shared vulnerability. The others were already moving toward the water, pouring cool streams of liquid over their heads, their skin slick with the sheen of the morning.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

Ahalya felt the weight of their freedom.
 
Her hands shook slightly as she undressed, her fingers brushing her skin, feeling the slight prickling heat of it beneath her touch.
 
Her body felt delicate, exposed, as though the air itself could trace the outline of every curve. She pulled her kurta and salwar away, her body momentarily bare to the world around her.
 
For a brief second, everything tightened, her skin seemed to hum, alive beneath her own gaze, as if it were a separate entity, stretching and pulling to be seen.
 
She stood still for a moment, her chest rising, lifting in a small inhale, feeling something ancient stir in her. There was the soft curve of her waist, the long lines of her arms, the sway of her hips that she had always felt shy of but never truly noticed until now.
 
The way her body seemed to fit the moment, natural, inevitable, made her hesitate, caught somewhere between discomfort and awe.
 
Ahalya’s reflection on herself was fleeting, and soon her gaze turned toward the others. For the first time, she truly saw them, not as fleeting faces or nameless bodies, but as living, breathing women, wrapped in their own quiet beauty.
 
There was Kavya, standing slightly apart, her features delicate and youthful, her body soft with uncertainty. Her bare skin was pale and unmarked, the slight curve of her shoulders almost fragile in the golden light, as if she might break under its touch.
 
But it was not just her body Ahalya noticed, it was the way Kavya moved, the small hesitation in her every gesture. It made Ahalya pause, a quiet ache stirring deep within her, something unfamiliar she couldn’t name.
 
Then her gaze drifted to another girl, the one with the long dark hair.
 
Her body was a study in delicate refinement, a silhouette that seemed to flow effortlessly, with elegant lines that held a quiet strength.
 
There was something natural about the way her form moved, as though every curve, every contour had been shaped with purpose. She was slender, but her slenderness was not sharp; it was graceful, like the curve of a branch reaching toward the sun.  

[shailu4ever]

.

 

But beautiful in its precision, there was something strengthening in the way she held herself, as though she had already learned how to be whole. Her skin was smooth, bronzed by the sun, but it was her eyes, sharp, calculating, that caught Ahalya’s attention.
 
They were fierce, almost too intense, yet beneath that intensity, there was an underlying vulnerability she could almost taste. Ahalya admired the subtle way her muscles flexed as she reached to pour water over her arms.
 
It was quiet, slow grace, completely unselfconscious, and yet Ahalya could not help but feel it all.
 
The quiet sound of water splashing around them pulled Ahalya’s attention back to her surroundings.
 
She looked at the older Sevakis, who moved like women born of the earth itself. Their bodies were strong, timeless, each curve and line a testament to the lives they had lived, shaped by work, time, and simplicity.
 
No one looked at her. No one looked at others. Giving each one their own private space.

 
They seemed unbothered by their beauty, as if it were something inherent, woven into the very fabric of their being. They were no longer young, but there was a grace to them that Ahalya had never seen before.
 
The way their limbs stretched in the water, the way the light caught their skin, it was a beauty built from years of quiet self-acceptance. A beauty that was unspoken, undemanding, and yet so entirely present.
 
Ahalya’s fingers brushed lightly over her own skin again, tracing the line of her collarbone, and something within her stirred. Her beauty was not something to hide, not something to be ashamed of.
 
It was a part of her, just as the work of the Ashram was becoming. There was a quiet power in the simplicity of the moment, in the way each woman around her seemed to be in perfect communion with her own body, unafraid of the way it moved or how it was seen.
 
Ahalya took in a deep breath, letting the quietness of the bathhouse settle over her, feeling the weight of the water around her, cleansing not only her body but the thoughts that had always felt too heavy.
 
But no one looked. No one remarked.
 
Ahalya stepped into the cool water, feeling it rush over her skin in a soft, welcoming cascade. The water was cold, its touch like a shock, but it carried a purity she hadn’t expected.

[Kavyaraja]

"In the stillness that followed, with their bodies interwind. there was only them, together, in the quiet aftermath of the storm." - The last line of "The Nine Nights"

In fact, my mind remains gently sandwiched between them—lingering far too long—waiting for you to draw me back from the hush of their private intimacy and let the story breathe again.

[shailu4ever]

.

 
She poured it over her shoulders, feeling the dirt from the garden wash away, the weight of it vanishing, leaving her skin smooth and tingling. As the water poured over her skin, Ahalya felt a shift, her self-consciousness beginning to dissolve with every drop.
 
The warmth of the air, the cool touch of the water, the quiet sounds of the others around her, all of it seemed to welcome her into something more, something timeless.
 
The water glided over her limbs, slops, hills and valleys slipping into the spaces never seen by anyone, filling her body with something liquid and still. She closed her eyes.
 
She wasn’t alone in her vulnerability; they were all here, together, in this space, learning together.
 
Around her, the other women moved, their actions like a shared ritual, though no words had ever been spoken about it. There was no need. They all knew this quiet exchange, this sacred cleansing.
 
No shame. No rush. Just the soft press of water, the sensation of skin being washed clean, the body renewed in its simplest form.
 
As the last traces of garden dirt slipped from her skin, Ahalya felt something else leave with it, a weight she hadn’t even known was there.
 
When they finished, they were given new clothes, simple undyed cotton saree, a single length of cloth that felt cool against her skin. Meera moved around them, showing them how to wrap it, how to dbang it around their bodies with quiet precision.
 
The fabric fell to mid-calf, soft against her long legs, a simple shift from one form of being to another.
 
“This is daily wear,” Meera said, her fingers adjusting the cloth with practiced ease. “Simple. Practical. The same for everyone.”
 
Ahalya stood still, her breath quiet as she let the fabric settle around her. She realized with a small, almost imperceptible sigh that her kurtas, the ones she had so carefully packed, the ones that had marked her old identity, would not be needed here.
 
They were gone, without ceremony, without weight. Another surrender. Another quiet loss.
 
She adjusted the cloth around her shoulders, the simple fabric cool and light against her skin, and for the first time, she felt it, the soft weight of belonging. Not from what she wore, but from the absence of something else.
 
Meera’s eyes moved over them, approving, but with a quiet reserve. Her smile, when it came, was slow and knowing.
 
Ahalya did not yet understand what had happened in the garden or the bathhouse, or how the hours had passed in such a way that felt at once slow and inevitable. But the question lingered, faint as a whisper in her mind.
 
"What am I becoming?"
 
She stood there, wrapped in the simplicity of the moment, feeling as if the Ashram had already begun to strip away everything she had once been. Slowly. Gently. But steadily, and without hesitation.
 

And she was learning how to let go.

-- oOo --

[shailu4ever]

"In the stillness that followed, with their bodies interwind. there was only them, together, in the quiet aftermath of the storm." - The last line of "The Nine Nights"

In fact, my mind remains gently sandwiched between them—lingering far too long—waiting for you to draw me back from the hush of their private intimacy and let the story breathe again.

Hi Kavyaraja

 
Thank you so much for this beautifully articulated feedback. I’m genuinely grateful for how closely and attentively you engaged with that final line, and for how vividly you described your experience as a reader.
 
Knowing that the moments from the “Nine Nights” story held you there, even a little longer than expected, tells me that the connection came through strongly. It is still my bad, I have to get back to that story, and I will get to it soon.
 
At the same time, I truly appreciate your focus and insight about my stories. Here are very few readers that read the stories at that depth and understanding. I truly appreciate your comments and messages.  
 
Your words have given me a lot to reflect on, especially around how and when to transition the reader out of an intimate moment without breaking its spell. Thank you for sitting with the ending so thoughtfully, and for sharing such a precise and evocative reaction, feedback like this is incredibly valuable to me as a writer.

Your encouragement truly means more to me than I can easily put into words, and it’s deeply motivating to know that I have such an intellectual readers, that actually value the poetry. 
 
With warm regards
 
-- Shailu