24-04-2025, 10:15 AM
I took the last sip of tea slowly.
Still warm.
I turned to Arjun, who was finishing his cup near the sink.
“I’m going to temple,” I said casually.
He nodded without much expression. “Okay anni. I have some office calls anyway. I’ll finish that.”
He wiped his hands and walked toward the hall.
I placed the empty cups in the sink and took ₹100 from the purse.
Folded it into my blouse corner and tied the pallu over it.
Took my phone and keys.
Checked once more. Gas off. Main light off.
Then stepped out and locked the door.
The evening was calm. Slight breeze. Corridor smelled like someone had just cleaned with phenyl.
I walked toward the lift.
Pressed the button.
Nothing.
Pressed again.
Still nothing.
I sighed.
Looked at the small digital display above.
Blank.
Not even showing numbers.
“Useless association…” I muttered.
I turned and looked down the stairs.
All seven floors.
I stood for a second, then whispered, “Oh god…”
But no other choice.
I started walking down.
One step. Two steps. Saree caught near my ankle.
Adjusted and continued.
The steps felt endless.
By third floor, I was already feeling the tightness in my knees.
By second floor, I was wiping my forehead.
I didn’t speak.
Didn’t curse loudly.
Just breathed heavier and pushed on.
By the time I reached the ground floor, my chest was rising and falling faster.
Sweat had started forming under my blouse.
I stepped into the corridor, still adjusting my pallu.
And then—
I saw him.
Prakash.
That filthy man.
Security dress unbuttoned slightly. Belt loose. Sitting with one leg over the other.
The moment he saw me—
Big smile.
Teeth yellow. Eyes shameless.
His head lifted a little, like he was happy to see me.
Like he was waiting.
My eyes narrowed.
I didn’t say a word.
Just gave him a look.
But not ordinary.
That look.
The one that says, I’ll pluck your eyes out and feed them to a dog if you even think something dirty.
He straightened up slightly. But the smile didn’t vanish.
I walked past him.
Didn’t turn.
Didn’t flinch.
But…
My hand went to my chin.
Without thinking.
Just touched it.
That same spot.
Where his cock had brushed that day in the lift.
Soft. Thick. Unwanted. But unforgettable.
I cursed myself silently.
“Why am I like this?”
“Why is that filthy thing coming to my mind again?”
I shook my head.
“No. Not today.”
“Today I’m going to temple.”
Straight.
Clean.
Focused.
I stepped outside the gate.
The temple was just three lanes away.
I walked slowly.
Bought flowers from the usual lady.
Gave her ₹50.
She gave a small smile.
“Was expecting you, ma? Today is friday right” she asked.
I nodded.
Didn’t say anything more.
I took the flowers.
Plucked two strands.
Placed one neatly in my hair. Just above the clip.
The other portion I kept folded in the packet for offering.
The temple was calm.
Evening light inside. Bells ringing softly.
Few people standing near the idol.
I walked in, adjusted my pallu again.
Gave the flowers at the counter.
Folded my hands and bowed.
Whispered a simple prayer.
No big wishes.
Just quietness.
Asked for peace.
Health.
Strength to keep moving.
Then sat in the side corner.
Back against the cool temple wall.
Closed my eyes.
No thoughts.
Just the smell of agarbatti.
The sound of bell every few seconds.
One small kid ran past me. His anklet made a soft jingle.
I smiled slightly.
Sat for ten minutes like that.
Calm.
Breathing.
Balanced.
Then slowly stood up.
Wiped the corner of my eye with my saree.
And whispered to myself—
“Time to go.”
I stood up slowly from the temple wall.
Straightened my saree pleats.
Took one last glance at the lamp and folded my hands briefly toward the idol.
Then turned.
As I walked toward the gate, I noticed someone standing near the entrance pathway.
Slim figure. Blue chudi. White leggings.
It was her.
Anusha.
Our new neighbor.
She had moved into the 1BHK next to ours around a month back.
I had seen her a few times in the lift, once in the corridor.
Polite girl. Always with a faint smile.
She never looked in a hurry. Never had loud phone calls. Never brought friends home.
Only quietness.
Today she was standing alone, holding a small flower packet.
Her face looked fresh—no makeup, just natural skin with that soft pink flush.
Hair tied in a clean ponytail, with two small strands loose near her cheeks.
She looked younger than I had imagined.
Maybe 24?
And now that I stood closer—I realised she was a little shorter than me.
Her chudi top hugged her softly. Not tight, not loose.
Just fitted enough to show the small curve of her chest, and the line of her waist.
Her dupatta was thrown carelessly around one side, almost sliding.
Her legs—fair, toned under the white leggings—were neatly placed together.
She noticed me.
Lifted her face.
And smiled.
That small, gentle smile we always exchange in the corridor.
But today, I smiled back and took one step forward.
“You came to the temple?” I asked softly.
She nodded. “Yes… actually, first time. I didn’t know it’s this peaceful in the evenings.”
Her voice was sweet. Soft-spoken.
The kind of voice that doesn’t push.
I nodded and looked at her again.
There was something… composed about her.
The way she stood.
The way she tilted her head slightly while talking.
She wasn’t nervous. But also not overly confident.
Just… calm.
Her top shifted slightly as she adjusted her bag strap.
The neckline moved just a bit, and I noticed her collarbone.
Smooth. Sharp. That thin chain resting between her curves.
I looked away for a second, not realising how long my eyes had stayed.
Then asked, “You’re in 703, right?”
She smiled again. “Yes. Just joined the Chennai branch last month. They gave this flat.”
I nodded. “Must be tiring, living alone?”
She shrugged softly. “Sometimes… but I like the quiet.”
I understood that line.
Exactly.
We stood like that for a moment.
Two women.
One married. One alone.
Different lives.
But same silence.
“Come home sometime…” I said, with a half-smile. “Whenever you’re free.”
Her eyes lit up a little.
“Sure,” she said.
She adjusted her dupatta again—this time it fell forward and rested softly across her chest.
My eyes instinctively went there again.
Then quickly shifted to her bangles.
She nodded politely and walked into the temple.
I watched her walk for a second.
Steps light.
Body straight.
Hips moving just enough to show confidence, not intention.
I turned back, adjusted the edge of my pallu, and started walking back.
The evening breeze was soft. Flowers in my hair moved gently with each step.
My slippers made a dry sound on the pavement.
My mind was quiet.
My body felt light.
As I turned the corner and reached near our apartment gate, I slowed down.
The building stood ahead. Calm. Still.
I didn’t enter yet.
Just stood a few steps before the gate.
One breath in.
One step forward.
I reached the gate.
Soft light from the compound bulb fell across the concrete path.
And there he was.
Prakash.
Sitting like he owned the entire building.
Legs spread.
Leaning back on the plastic chair like a king.
Security cap thrown on the side hook. Shirt loose. Belly showing.
One hand holding his mobile. Other one resting on his thigh, fingers moving slowly.
The moment he saw me—he straightened up a bit.
But only a bit.
Not because he respected me.
But because he enjoyed what he saw.
His smile came without shame.
Full teeth.
Eyes wide.
As if I was some temple goddess arriving just for him.
Bloody bastard.
I walked straight toward him.
Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t flinch.
And stopped exactly in front of him.
He looked up at me.
His eyes—
They didn’t stay on my face.
No.
First they scanned my pallu.
Then my waistline.
Then lower.
Then up again.
And I saw it.
That lust.
That open, disgusting heat in his eyes.
The same eyes that looked at my bare chest inside that dark lift.
The same eyes that had watched my petticoat stick to my hips when I had no blouse on.
I didn’t blink.
I snapped my fingers once, sharp.
He looked startled.
“Hey,” I said, voice low but firm. “What happened to the lift?”
He adjusted his sitting posture like he was just waking up.
“Madam… as you know… it’s been giving problem since last week.”
I narrowed my eyes.
That tone.
That casual line.
He wasn’t just saying it for information.
He was reminding me.
Reminding me of that day.
That moment.
That silence.
That heat.
That naked, disgusting closeness.
I clenched my jaw.
“Problem, ah?” I said sarcastically.
He nodded. “Yes madam. Actually… that day also—”
I raised my hand.
“Don’t even say one more word.”
He shut up.
Swallowed.
Then tried again. “Technician will come tomorrow. Fix it pakka. Already informed.”
I didn’t answer immediately.
Just looked at him.
Let him sweat for one second.
Then leaned slightly forward.
“So you want me to climb seven floors now?”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Didn’t know what to say.
I smirked slightly.
“Very good. Excellent service.”
Then turned.
Didn’t wait.
Didn’t say bye.
Just started walking.
My sandals made a sharp sound against the gate floor.
And I knew.
His eyes were on my hips.
My back.
Maybe imagining again what he saw in the lift.
But this time—
He won’t get anything more.
Not a single glimpse.
I walked straight to the stairs.
And started climbing.
I placed one foot on the first step.
Then the second.
Each step felt harder than the last.
My slippers slapped against the rough cement, and my saree swayed around my legs, pulling with every move.
By the time I reached the first floor landing, my back was already damp again.
And then I heard him.
Footsteps behind.
“Madam… madam, sorry madam…”
I didn’t turn.
Didn’t slow down.
He was climbing behind me—his voice trying to sound soft, innocent.
“Unexpected only madam… what to do… very old system… technician—”
“Enough,” I snapped, still climbing.
Didn’t even look back.
He quietened for a second, then spoke again.
“I just want to tell, I informed committee also… I told last week…”
I turned my head slightly, not fully.
“If anyone sees you following me up like this, what will they think?” I asked sharply.
“Go down.”
“But madam, I—”
“Go!” I said louder, stopping one step.
He slowed down behind me.
I didn’t wait.
Started again.
Second floor.
My legs were starting to ache now.
The pain ran from the side of my thighs to the back of my knees.
The stairs felt longer than usual today.
Third floor.
My saree blouse was sticking at the back. Sweat collected near my shoulder blades.
The flowers in my hair had already loosened.
I reached the landing and paused.
Placed one hand against the railing.
My legs were shivering.
Three more floors left.
“God…” I whispered, looking up.
Then I heard his footsteps going back down.
Good.
But I couldn’t move.
I was still breathing hard.
I looked down once more.
He had just reached the second floor.
“Hey!” I called.
He turned, surprised.
“Come back.”
He came up quickly.
Stood near the wall, one hand behind his back like some college boy.
I stared at him.
Breathing still heavy.
“See how you all make us suffer?”
I said it through gritted teeth.
He kept quiet.
Then said softly, “Sorry madam…”
My head was spinning a bit now.
I pressed one hand against my waist.
My chest was moving up and down with each breath.
He looked at me.
Silent.
Then his eyes moved to my feet.
My sandals were loose.
Toes slightly red from strain.
He looked up again.
Then paused.
His lips parted.
“Madam…” he said slowly, “Can I… carry you?”
My eyes widened.
“What?” I said, still panting.
He hesitated, then said again—
“Madam… if you want… I can carry you upstairs…”
My mouth stayed open for a second.
Was he serious?
This filthy Prakash?
Asking to carry me?
Up to the seventh floor?
My mind went blank for a moment.
Then it started to race.
Still warm.
I turned to Arjun, who was finishing his cup near the sink.
“I’m going to temple,” I said casually.
He nodded without much expression. “Okay anni. I have some office calls anyway. I’ll finish that.”
He wiped his hands and walked toward the hall.
I placed the empty cups in the sink and took ₹100 from the purse.
Folded it into my blouse corner and tied the pallu over it.
Took my phone and keys.
Checked once more. Gas off. Main light off.
Then stepped out and locked the door.
The evening was calm. Slight breeze. Corridor smelled like someone had just cleaned with phenyl.
I walked toward the lift.
Pressed the button.
Nothing.
Pressed again.
Still nothing.
I sighed.
Looked at the small digital display above.
Blank.
Not even showing numbers.
“Useless association…” I muttered.
I turned and looked down the stairs.
All seven floors.
I stood for a second, then whispered, “Oh god…”
But no other choice.
I started walking down.
One step. Two steps. Saree caught near my ankle.
Adjusted and continued.
The steps felt endless.
By third floor, I was already feeling the tightness in my knees.
By second floor, I was wiping my forehead.
I didn’t speak.
Didn’t curse loudly.
Just breathed heavier and pushed on.
By the time I reached the ground floor, my chest was rising and falling faster.
Sweat had started forming under my blouse.
I stepped into the corridor, still adjusting my pallu.
And then—
I saw him.
Prakash.
That filthy man.
Security dress unbuttoned slightly. Belt loose. Sitting with one leg over the other.
The moment he saw me—
Big smile.
Teeth yellow. Eyes shameless.
His head lifted a little, like he was happy to see me.
Like he was waiting.
My eyes narrowed.
I didn’t say a word.
Just gave him a look.
But not ordinary.
That look.
The one that says, I’ll pluck your eyes out and feed them to a dog if you even think something dirty.
He straightened up slightly. But the smile didn’t vanish.
I walked past him.
Didn’t turn.
Didn’t flinch.
But…
My hand went to my chin.
Without thinking.
Just touched it.
That same spot.
Where his cock had brushed that day in the lift.
Soft. Thick. Unwanted. But unforgettable.
I cursed myself silently.
“Why am I like this?”
“Why is that filthy thing coming to my mind again?”
I shook my head.
“No. Not today.”
“Today I’m going to temple.”
Straight.
Clean.
Focused.
I stepped outside the gate.
The temple was just three lanes away.
I walked slowly.
Bought flowers from the usual lady.
Gave her ₹50.
She gave a small smile.
“Was expecting you, ma? Today is friday right” she asked.
I nodded.
Didn’t say anything more.
I took the flowers.
Plucked two strands.
Placed one neatly in my hair. Just above the clip.
The other portion I kept folded in the packet for offering.
The temple was calm.
Evening light inside. Bells ringing softly.
Few people standing near the idol.
I walked in, adjusted my pallu again.
Gave the flowers at the counter.
Folded my hands and bowed.
Whispered a simple prayer.
No big wishes.
Just quietness.
Asked for peace.
Health.
Strength to keep moving.
Then sat in the side corner.
Back against the cool temple wall.
Closed my eyes.
No thoughts.
Just the smell of agarbatti.
The sound of bell every few seconds.
One small kid ran past me. His anklet made a soft jingle.
I smiled slightly.
Sat for ten minutes like that.
Calm.
Breathing.
Balanced.
Then slowly stood up.
Wiped the corner of my eye with my saree.
And whispered to myself—
“Time to go.”
I stood up slowly from the temple wall.
Straightened my saree pleats.
Took one last glance at the lamp and folded my hands briefly toward the idol.
Then turned.
As I walked toward the gate, I noticed someone standing near the entrance pathway.
Slim figure. Blue chudi. White leggings.
It was her.
Anusha.
Our new neighbor.
She had moved into the 1BHK next to ours around a month back.
I had seen her a few times in the lift, once in the corridor.
Polite girl. Always with a faint smile.
She never looked in a hurry. Never had loud phone calls. Never brought friends home.
Only quietness.
Today she was standing alone, holding a small flower packet.
Her face looked fresh—no makeup, just natural skin with that soft pink flush.
Hair tied in a clean ponytail, with two small strands loose near her cheeks.
She looked younger than I had imagined.
Maybe 24?
And now that I stood closer—I realised she was a little shorter than me.
Her chudi top hugged her softly. Not tight, not loose.
Just fitted enough to show the small curve of her chest, and the line of her waist.
Her dupatta was thrown carelessly around one side, almost sliding.
Her legs—fair, toned under the white leggings—were neatly placed together.
She noticed me.
Lifted her face.
And smiled.
That small, gentle smile we always exchange in the corridor.
But today, I smiled back and took one step forward.
“You came to the temple?” I asked softly.
She nodded. “Yes… actually, first time. I didn’t know it’s this peaceful in the evenings.”
Her voice was sweet. Soft-spoken.
The kind of voice that doesn’t push.
I nodded and looked at her again.
There was something… composed about her.
The way she stood.
The way she tilted her head slightly while talking.
She wasn’t nervous. But also not overly confident.
Just… calm.
Her top shifted slightly as she adjusted her bag strap.
The neckline moved just a bit, and I noticed her collarbone.
Smooth. Sharp. That thin chain resting between her curves.
I looked away for a second, not realising how long my eyes had stayed.
Then asked, “You’re in 703, right?”
She smiled again. “Yes. Just joined the Chennai branch last month. They gave this flat.”
I nodded. “Must be tiring, living alone?”
She shrugged softly. “Sometimes… but I like the quiet.”
I understood that line.
Exactly.
We stood like that for a moment.
Two women.
One married. One alone.
Different lives.
But same silence.
“Come home sometime…” I said, with a half-smile. “Whenever you’re free.”
Her eyes lit up a little.
“Sure,” she said.
She adjusted her dupatta again—this time it fell forward and rested softly across her chest.
My eyes instinctively went there again.
Then quickly shifted to her bangles.
She nodded politely and walked into the temple.
I watched her walk for a second.
Steps light.
Body straight.
Hips moving just enough to show confidence, not intention.
I turned back, adjusted the edge of my pallu, and started walking back.
The evening breeze was soft. Flowers in my hair moved gently with each step.
My slippers made a dry sound on the pavement.
My mind was quiet.
My body felt light.
As I turned the corner and reached near our apartment gate, I slowed down.
The building stood ahead. Calm. Still.
I didn’t enter yet.
Just stood a few steps before the gate.
One breath in.
One step forward.
I reached the gate.
Soft light from the compound bulb fell across the concrete path.
And there he was.
Prakash.
Sitting like he owned the entire building.
Legs spread.
Leaning back on the plastic chair like a king.
Security cap thrown on the side hook. Shirt loose. Belly showing.
One hand holding his mobile. Other one resting on his thigh, fingers moving slowly.
The moment he saw me—he straightened up a bit.
But only a bit.
Not because he respected me.
But because he enjoyed what he saw.
His smile came without shame.
Full teeth.
Eyes wide.
As if I was some temple goddess arriving just for him.
Bloody bastard.
I walked straight toward him.
Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t flinch.
And stopped exactly in front of him.
He looked up at me.
His eyes—
They didn’t stay on my face.
No.
First they scanned my pallu.
Then my waistline.
Then lower.
Then up again.
And I saw it.
That lust.
That open, disgusting heat in his eyes.
The same eyes that looked at my bare chest inside that dark lift.
The same eyes that had watched my petticoat stick to my hips when I had no blouse on.
I didn’t blink.
I snapped my fingers once, sharp.
He looked startled.
“Hey,” I said, voice low but firm. “What happened to the lift?”
He adjusted his sitting posture like he was just waking up.
“Madam… as you know… it’s been giving problem since last week.”
I narrowed my eyes.
That tone.
That casual line.
He wasn’t just saying it for information.
He was reminding me.
Reminding me of that day.
That moment.
That silence.
That heat.
That naked, disgusting closeness.
I clenched my jaw.
“Problem, ah?” I said sarcastically.
He nodded. “Yes madam. Actually… that day also—”
I raised my hand.
“Don’t even say one more word.”
He shut up.
Swallowed.
Then tried again. “Technician will come tomorrow. Fix it pakka. Already informed.”
I didn’t answer immediately.
Just looked at him.
Let him sweat for one second.
Then leaned slightly forward.
“So you want me to climb seven floors now?”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Didn’t know what to say.
I smirked slightly.
“Very good. Excellent service.”
Then turned.
Didn’t wait.
Didn’t say bye.
Just started walking.
My sandals made a sharp sound against the gate floor.
And I knew.
His eyes were on my hips.
My back.
Maybe imagining again what he saw in the lift.
But this time—
He won’t get anything more.
Not a single glimpse.
I walked straight to the stairs.
And started climbing.
I placed one foot on the first step.
Then the second.
Each step felt harder than the last.
My slippers slapped against the rough cement, and my saree swayed around my legs, pulling with every move.
By the time I reached the first floor landing, my back was already damp again.
And then I heard him.
Footsteps behind.
“Madam… madam, sorry madam…”
I didn’t turn.
Didn’t slow down.
He was climbing behind me—his voice trying to sound soft, innocent.
“Unexpected only madam… what to do… very old system… technician—”
“Enough,” I snapped, still climbing.
Didn’t even look back.
He quietened for a second, then spoke again.
“I just want to tell, I informed committee also… I told last week…”
I turned my head slightly, not fully.
“If anyone sees you following me up like this, what will they think?” I asked sharply.
“Go down.”
“But madam, I—”
“Go!” I said louder, stopping one step.
He slowed down behind me.
I didn’t wait.
Started again.
Second floor.
My legs were starting to ache now.
The pain ran from the side of my thighs to the back of my knees.
The stairs felt longer than usual today.
Third floor.
My saree blouse was sticking at the back. Sweat collected near my shoulder blades.
The flowers in my hair had already loosened.
I reached the landing and paused.
Placed one hand against the railing.
My legs were shivering.
Three more floors left.
“God…” I whispered, looking up.
Then I heard his footsteps going back down.
Good.
But I couldn’t move.
I was still breathing hard.
I looked down once more.
He had just reached the second floor.
“Hey!” I called.
He turned, surprised.
“Come back.”
He came up quickly.
Stood near the wall, one hand behind his back like some college boy.
I stared at him.
Breathing still heavy.
“See how you all make us suffer?”
I said it through gritted teeth.
He kept quiet.
Then said softly, “Sorry madam…”
My head was spinning a bit now.
I pressed one hand against my waist.
My chest was moving up and down with each breath.
He looked at me.
Silent.
Then his eyes moved to my feet.
My sandals were loose.
Toes slightly red from strain.
He looked up again.
Then paused.
His lips parted.
“Madam…” he said slowly, “Can I… carry you?”
My eyes widened.
“What?” I said, still panting.
He hesitated, then said again—
“Madam… if you want… I can carry you upstairs…”
My mouth stayed open for a second.
Was he serious?
This filthy Prakash?
Asking to carry me?
Up to the seventh floor?
My mind went blank for a moment.
Then it started to race.
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