Fantasy Mom and them

[Rupakpolo1]

One afternoon, I heard a faint sound of whispering coming from my mother's room. Curiosity piqued, I approached the half-closed door and listened closely. It was my mom and Kamala, their voices hushed but urgent. "He watched me again today," my mother said, her voice trembling. "While I was changing in the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of his shadow under the door. I know it was him."

Kamala nodded solemnly, her eyes full of empathy. "Ma'am, you must be careful .," she urged, her voice a mix of concern and anger. "Raghu is a snake, and he's slithering too close for comfort."

My mother took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "I know," she whispered. "His eyes...it's like he's banging me with his gaze." The words hung heavy in the air, painting a vivid picture of the fear and violation she felt every time Raghu's eyes latched onto her.

The days grew into weeks, and my mother's anxiety grew with each passing moment. Even when we were on the road, traveling in the old, creaky car that Raghu drove, I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes flickered towards the rearview mirror. It was subtle, but it was there—a hungry look that made my skin crawl. He'd watch her every move, his eyes devouring her beauty, his thoughts a dark mystery.

One day, as we were heading to the local market, the car jolted over a pothole, and my mother's sari slipped, revealing a hint of skin. Raghu's gaze lingered just a second too long, and my mother's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. She quickly readjusted her sari, her eyes meeting his in the mirror for a brief moment. In that instant, I saw the fear and desperation in her eyes, and I knew she wasn't just being overly cautious.

Raghu used to take me to college.

The journey was mostly quiet, with only the purr of the car engine and the rustle of the wind through the trees for company. But on the way back home one day, Raghu took a detour, claiming a shortcut. As we turned onto a narrow dirt path, I saw them for the first time—Rafiq and Shambhu. They were leaning against a dilapidated shack, smoking cigarettes and eyeing the car with a knowing smirk. They were rough around the edges, their clothes tattered, and their eyes held a glint that sent a shiver down my spine.

Kamala used to stay in our bungalow from morning to noon. At evening she used to travel back to her house which was in the village few distance away. Raghu used to stay in a servant quarter near to our bungalow. Initially i never had courage to visit his place but one incident change every thing.

One night, I was startled awake by the rustling of leaves outside my window. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, casting eerie shadows across the floor. I lay in bed, my heart racing, as I strained to make out the source of the sound. It grew louder, and then I heard it—the unmistakable footsteps of someone pacing outside.

I held my breath, my heart hammering in my chest. The steps grew closer, and I could feel the presence of someone just beyond the thin barrier of my window pane. I wanted to call out, to scream for my parents, but something held me back—fear, perhaps, or the irrational hope that it was all just a bad dream.

I peered through the curtains, the moonlight casting a silver sheen on the figure moving in the shadows. It was Raghu. His eyes were fixed on the room where my parents slept, and his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. His gaze was intense, his body coiled like a snake ready to strike. I watched, my young mind racing with a mix of terror and confusion.

Mustering all the courage I had, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed down the corridor, the cold cement sending shivers down my spine. My heart thudded in my ears, drowning out the distant sounds of the village asleep. The door to my parents' room was slightly ajar, the warm glow of their bedside lamp spilling into the hallway. I pushed it open, my eyes widening at the sight before me.

My mother, Kakoli, lay on the bed, her sari discarded in a pool of fabric at her feet. My father, Jayanta, was on top of her, their bodies entwined in a dance as old as time. Her eyes were closed, her face a picture of serenity, and he looked like he was in the throes of passion. I had stumbled upon an intimate moment that I hadn't quite understood, but I knew it was a part of their love.

My heart racing, I retreated back to my room in shame, my thoughts a jumble of confusion and curiosity. I couldn't shake the image from my mind, and it was a secret I carried with me like a burden. It was the first time I had seen my parents in such a light, and it changed the way I saw them, ever so slightly.

The next day, I made up my mind. I had to know more about Raghu and his intentions. After college, I waited for the perfect moment—when the house was quiet, and my mother was busy in the kitchen with the windows open. I slipped out the back door and made my way to Raghu's quarters. His room was a tiny space, barely larger than a closet, with a single bed and a few personal items scattered about. I could feel his presence there, like a palpable force, and I shivered despite the heat.

The window was slightly ajar, letting in the sweet scent of jasmine from the vines that had climbed up the wall. I peeked in, my heart in my throat. Raghu was nowhere to be seen, but his room held a secret that sent my mind racing. On his bedside table, there was a small, worn-out photo album. With trembling hands, I picked it up and began to flip through the pages. The photos were of various women, some smiling, some not, all looking... used. A chill ran down my spine as I realized these were the faces of the village girls he had preyed upon.

I heard a sound and quickly ducked down, my heart hammering in my chest. The door creaked open, and Raghu stepped in. His eyes fell on the open album, and for a split second, I saw fear flicker across his face. But then, he saw me, and the fear turned to rage. He lunged towards me, his hand outstretched, and I stumbled backward, dropping the album in my haste. He grabbed my arm, his grip like a vice. "What do you think you're doing, little boy?" he snarled, his breath hot and sour on my face.

I tried to pull away, my eyes darting around the room for an escape, but his grasp was too strong. He dragged me to the bed, pushing me down onto the mattress. "You're going to keep my secret," he said, his voice low and threatening. "You tell anyone, and you'll regret it." His hand moved towards my throat, and I felt the pressure build as he squeezed. I struggled, my eyes bulging, but his grip only tightened.

"Do you understand?" he growled, his eyes boring into mine. "If you say a word, I'll make sure you won't live to tell the tale." His other hand reached for the album, snatching it from the floor. He held it up, the pages fluttering in the dim light.

My mouth was dry, my heart thudding in my chest like a drum. I nodded, fear clouding my judgment. "Yes, Raghu uncle" I croaked. "I won't tell anyone."

He released my throat, his eyes searching my face for any signs of defiance. He didn't find any. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Then for a moment, he looked at with his nasty evil smile. "I would like to say one more thing, little boy. You see, your mother is a beautiful woman. You are lucky to have a beautiful mother like her"

He paused for a moment and was going to say some more things to me but he resisted. I did not understand why he said such a thing about my mother all of a sudden.

He leaned down, his face a mere inch from mine. "You're going to learn a lot of new things in the coming few days," he whispered, his breath hot and foul. "Things that will make you understand what it means to be a man." His eyes bore into me, and I nodded again, trying to swallow the bile rising in my throat.

The following days were a blur of fear and anticipation. I avoided Raghu as much as possible, but he was everywhere—driving us around, lurking around the bungalow, his gaze never leaving my mother for too long. I watched him, his every move a silent threat, and I didn't know what he meant. All i can make out that he had something planned.