03-04-2019, 07:09 PM
No sooner had mother and son settled themselves when the Thakur walked in.
He was another big, beefy man with a flowing mane of white hair that would have come down to his shoulders were it not for a band that kept it at the nape of his neck. He was broad at the shoulder and his well muscled arms were tattooed with symbols of violence. Age and alcohol had given him an ungainly paunch but had left untouched the natural meanness and cruelty that was evident in his narrow, closely spaced eyes and sneering lips. All put together, not a very pleasant man to come across in the festive season.
"Ah! Riturani," He chewed his words slowly. "So you have decided to come back to Topchanchi."
"Yes. Thakur-saab." Ritu was on her feet, as was Rudra, as they bent to touch his feet in the standard style of familial obeisance.
"But why after all these years?"
Yes. It had been years since Ritu was here and for Rudra it was of course the first time. Ritu's mind went back more than twenty years ago when she, a tribal Santhal girl in her teens had fallen in love with Thakur's son, Raghu and in a moment of playful mischief in the forests of Parasnath Hill had conceived Rudra. Much against his father's wishes Raghu had married Ritu and had brought her into this very house. Perhaps things would still have turned out reasonably well but for the Thakur's penchant for sexual excitement.
Raghu's mother was still eminently fuckable but the Thakur had a penchant for voyeurism and the thought of seeing his cute new Santhali daughter-in-law being fucked had caught his imagination. So in the course of a drunken orgy, that was all too common in the Thakur household, he had tried to force his son, Raghu to strip his pregnant wife and fuck her in public. The episode had ended calamitously with Raghu's mother hitting him on the head with a pot and Raghu and Ritu fleeing Topchanchi in the middle of the night and seeking refuge, first in Calcutta and then in distant Bombay.
Life had been tough for the young couple, especially after the birth of Rudra, but neither of them had ever bothered to seek any help from the family. What had compounded matters was that Raghu had suddenly died in an accident. But Ritu was a born fighter and had not only carved out a space for herself and her infant son in distant Bombay, but had also managed crack the civil services exam that had led her to a very significant government job.
But in all these years, Thakur-saab had shown no interest in their well being and Ritu had of course no interest in him or his affairs either. But of late, and out of the blue, she had pieced together certain facts from old letters that Raghu had exchanged with his mother that had piqued her interest and firmed her resolve to get to or recover what was her due.
Raghu's mother had of course died a few years ago - heartbroken with the irreconcilable differences between the arrogant Thakur and his stubborn DIL, but that had not deterred Ritu. She was here with a purpose but obviously she had no intention of revealing her hand.
Not yet.
He was another big, beefy man with a flowing mane of white hair that would have come down to his shoulders were it not for a band that kept it at the nape of his neck. He was broad at the shoulder and his well muscled arms were tattooed with symbols of violence. Age and alcohol had given him an ungainly paunch but had left untouched the natural meanness and cruelty that was evident in his narrow, closely spaced eyes and sneering lips. All put together, not a very pleasant man to come across in the festive season.
"Ah! Riturani," He chewed his words slowly. "So you have decided to come back to Topchanchi."
"Yes. Thakur-saab." Ritu was on her feet, as was Rudra, as they bent to touch his feet in the standard style of familial obeisance.
"But why after all these years?"
Yes. It had been years since Ritu was here and for Rudra it was of course the first time. Ritu's mind went back more than twenty years ago when she, a tribal Santhal girl in her teens had fallen in love with Thakur's son, Raghu and in a moment of playful mischief in the forests of Parasnath Hill had conceived Rudra. Much against his father's wishes Raghu had married Ritu and had brought her into this very house. Perhaps things would still have turned out reasonably well but for the Thakur's penchant for sexual excitement.
Raghu's mother was still eminently fuckable but the Thakur had a penchant for voyeurism and the thought of seeing his cute new Santhali daughter-in-law being fucked had caught his imagination. So in the course of a drunken orgy, that was all too common in the Thakur household, he had tried to force his son, Raghu to strip his pregnant wife and fuck her in public. The episode had ended calamitously with Raghu's mother hitting him on the head with a pot and Raghu and Ritu fleeing Topchanchi in the middle of the night and seeking refuge, first in Calcutta and then in distant Bombay.
Life had been tough for the young couple, especially after the birth of Rudra, but neither of them had ever bothered to seek any help from the family. What had compounded matters was that Raghu had suddenly died in an accident. But Ritu was a born fighter and had not only carved out a space for herself and her infant son in distant Bombay, but had also managed crack the civil services exam that had led her to a very significant government job.
But in all these years, Thakur-saab had shown no interest in their well being and Ritu had of course no interest in him or his affairs either. But of late, and out of the blue, she had pieced together certain facts from old letters that Raghu had exchanged with his mother that had piqued her interest and firmed her resolve to get to or recover what was her due.
Raghu's mother had of course died a few years ago - heartbroken with the irreconcilable differences between the arrogant Thakur and his stubborn DIL, but that had not deterred Ritu. She was here with a purpose but obviously she had no intention of revealing her hand.
Not yet.
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