17-10-2025, 03:28 PM
Scene 1
The old, rattling bus kicked up a cloud of brown dust as it lumbered away, leaving Simran standing alone on the edge of Rampur village.
The afternoon sun was a merciless weight on her shoulders. She wore a simple, deep blue cotton saree, a concession to local tradition she hoped would help her blend in. But the heat was intense, and she had decided against wearing a bra under her matching blouse. The thin fabric felt damp against her skin, and the impressive weight of her big, full breasts (a generous 34E) was noticeable with every breath she took.
She felt a bead of sweat trace a path down her cleavage. She unconsciously pulled at the neck of her blouse, trying to let some air in. The saree, instead of making her inconspicuous, seemed to cling to her every curve, highlighting her narrow waist and the prominent swell of her chest.
A few men sitting under a large banyan tree stopped their chatter, their eyes fixed on the newcomer. One man, older than the rest with a thick grey mustache and an air of authority, stood up and walked towards her.
Ramesh: "Namaste. You are not from around here." (Namaste. Aap yahan ki nahi lagti.)
Simran offered a polite smile, shifting the heavy research bag on her shoulder.
Simran: "Namaste, ji. My name is Simran. I am looking for the Sarpanch." (Namaste, ji. Mera naam Simran hai. Main Sarpanch ko dhoondh rahi hoon.)
The man’s chest puffed out slightly. His eyes did a quick, sweeping tour of her body, lingering for a fraction of a second on her chest before meeting her eyes again.
Ramesh: "I am Ramesh, the Sarpanch of this village. How can I help you?" (Main Ramesh hoon, is gaon ka Sarpanch. Main aapki kya madad kar sakta hoon?)
Simran: "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarpanch-ji. I am a researcher, doing my PhD. My work requires me to stay in your village for a few months." (Aap se milkar khushi hui, Sarpanch-ji. Main ek researcher hoon, apni PhD kar rahi hoon. Mere kaam ke liye mujhe kuch mahino tak aapke gaon mein rehna hoga.)
Ramesh nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.
Ramesh: "Research? On what? Our crops? The soil?" (Research? Kis cheez par? Hamari faslon par? Mitti par?)
Simran took a deep breath. This was the difficult part.
Simran: "No, Sarpanch-ji. My research is a little... different. It's for the health sciences. I am studying the reproductive systems and health of men and women in rural areas." (Nahi, Sarpanch-ji. Mera research thoda... alag hai. Health science ke liye hai. Main gramin ilakon mein mardon aur auraton ke prajanan tantra aur swasthya ka adhyayan kar rahi hoon.)
A heavy silence fell. The other men under the tree started murmuring to each other. Ramesh’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked at her again, and this time his gaze was more intense, more evaluating.
Ramesh: "You want to talk to our men and women about... their private parts? About having children?" (Tum hamare mardon aur auraton se... unke gupt ango ke baare mein baat karna chahti ho? Bachche paida karne ke baare mein?)
Simran felt her face flush from the heat and the directness of his question. She tugged at her blouse again, a nervous habit.
Simran: "In a way, yes. It's about their health, their problems, their knowledge. It is very important scientific work. The information will be kept completely confidential, of course." (Ek tarah se, haan. Yeh unke swasthya, unki samasyaon, unke gyaan ke baare mein hai. Yeh bahut zaroori vaigyanik kaam hai. Saari jaankari bilkul gupt rakhi jayegi, bilkul.)
Ramesh: "Hmm. This is a village of simple, respectable people, beti. These are not things we discuss with strangers." (Hmm. Yeh seedhe-saadhe, izzatdaar logon ka gaon hai, beti. Yeh sab baatein hum ajnabiyon se nahi karte.)
Simran: "I understand, Sarpanch-ji. That is why I came to you first. To get your permission and your help. I cannot do this work without your support." (Main samajhti hoon, Sarpanch-ji. Isliye main sabse pehle aapke paas aayi. Aapki anumati aur aapki madad ke liye. Main aapke samarthan ke bina yeh kaam nahi kar sakti.)
She spoke earnestly, her voice soft but firm. As she talked, she gestured with her hands, and the movement caused her pallu to slip slightly from her shoulder, revealing the deep curve where her breast met her arm. Ramesh’s eyes darted to the exposed skin before quickly flicking back to her face.
Simran: "For my stay, I will need a room. It must have a clean, private toilet. And I will also need someone to help me, to introduce me to the families here. Someone they trust." (Mere rehne ke liye, mujhe ek kamra chahiye hoga. Usmein ek saaf, private shauchalay hona zaroori hai. Aur mujhe meri madad ke liye bhi koi chahiye hoga, jo mujhe yahan ke parivaron se milwaye. Koi jispar woh bharosa karte hon.)
Just then, a woman in a plain saree came out of the largest house behind the tree, wiping her hands on a cloth.
Ramesh: "Sunita! Bring some water. We have a guest." (Sunita! Paani lao. Mehmaan aayi hain.)
The woman, Sunita, nodded and went back inside.
Ramesh: "That is my wife. We can talk about a room. We have a small guest room at the back of our house. It has a separate bathroom." (Woh meri patni hai. Hum kamre ke baare mein baat kar sakte hain. Hamare ghar ke peeche ek chhota mehmaan-kamra hai. Usmein alag se bathroom hai.)
Sunita returned with a steel glass of cool water.
Sunita: "Here, beti. You must be tired from the journey." (Yeh lo, beti. Safar se thak gayi hogi.)
Simran: "Thank you so much, Aunty." (Bahut bahut dhanyavaad, Aunty.)
Simran turned her body to face Sunita and accept the glass. As she turned, Ramesh was presented with a clear side view. He watched the way the thin, slightly damp blue blouse stretched taut across the large, round curve of her breast. He could see the pale, fair skin of her side and back where the saree gaped a little as she moved. She looked heavy and full, like a ripe fruit. He felt a stirring in his loins, a sudden, sharp interest that had nothing to do with her research.
She finished the water quickly and handed the glass back to Sunita.
Simran: "Thank you again, Sarpanch-ji. You are very kind." (Ek baar phir shukriya, Sarpanch-ji. Aap bahut dayalu hain.)
Ramesh: "Sunita, show her the room. Let her freshen up. We will talk more about this... research... in the evening."
(Sunita, ise kamra dikha do. Use taro-taaza ho lene do. Hum is... research... ke baare mein shaam ko aur baat karenge.)
He said the word 'research' slowly, as if tasting it. A faint smirk touched his lips.
Sunita nodded and gestured for Simran to follow her. As Simran picked up her bag and walked past him towards the house, Ramesh didn't move. His eyes were fixed on the gentle sway of her hips under the saree, his mind already racing far ahead of any scientific study. This city girl, he thought, was going to make life in Rampur very, very interesting.
The old, rattling bus kicked up a cloud of brown dust as it lumbered away, leaving Simran standing alone on the edge of Rampur village.
The afternoon sun was a merciless weight on her shoulders. She wore a simple, deep blue cotton saree, a concession to local tradition she hoped would help her blend in. But the heat was intense, and she had decided against wearing a bra under her matching blouse. The thin fabric felt damp against her skin, and the impressive weight of her big, full breasts (a generous 34E) was noticeable with every breath she took.
She felt a bead of sweat trace a path down her cleavage. She unconsciously pulled at the neck of her blouse, trying to let some air in. The saree, instead of making her inconspicuous, seemed to cling to her every curve, highlighting her narrow waist and the prominent swell of her chest.
A few men sitting under a large banyan tree stopped their chatter, their eyes fixed on the newcomer. One man, older than the rest with a thick grey mustache and an air of authority, stood up and walked towards her.
Ramesh: "Namaste. You are not from around here." (Namaste. Aap yahan ki nahi lagti.)
Simran offered a polite smile, shifting the heavy research bag on her shoulder.
Simran: "Namaste, ji. My name is Simran. I am looking for the Sarpanch." (Namaste, ji. Mera naam Simran hai. Main Sarpanch ko dhoondh rahi hoon.)
The man’s chest puffed out slightly. His eyes did a quick, sweeping tour of her body, lingering for a fraction of a second on her chest before meeting her eyes again.
Ramesh: "I am Ramesh, the Sarpanch of this village. How can I help you?" (Main Ramesh hoon, is gaon ka Sarpanch. Main aapki kya madad kar sakta hoon?)
Simran: "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarpanch-ji. I am a researcher, doing my PhD. My work requires me to stay in your village for a few months." (Aap se milkar khushi hui, Sarpanch-ji. Main ek researcher hoon, apni PhD kar rahi hoon. Mere kaam ke liye mujhe kuch mahino tak aapke gaon mein rehna hoga.)
Ramesh nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.
Ramesh: "Research? On what? Our crops? The soil?" (Research? Kis cheez par? Hamari faslon par? Mitti par?)
Simran took a deep breath. This was the difficult part.
Simran: "No, Sarpanch-ji. My research is a little... different. It's for the health sciences. I am studying the reproductive systems and health of men and women in rural areas." (Nahi, Sarpanch-ji. Mera research thoda... alag hai. Health science ke liye hai. Main gramin ilakon mein mardon aur auraton ke prajanan tantra aur swasthya ka adhyayan kar rahi hoon.)
A heavy silence fell. The other men under the tree started murmuring to each other. Ramesh’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked at her again, and this time his gaze was more intense, more evaluating.
Ramesh: "You want to talk to our men and women about... their private parts? About having children?" (Tum hamare mardon aur auraton se... unke gupt ango ke baare mein baat karna chahti ho? Bachche paida karne ke baare mein?)
Simran felt her face flush from the heat and the directness of his question. She tugged at her blouse again, a nervous habit.
Simran: "In a way, yes. It's about their health, their problems, their knowledge. It is very important scientific work. The information will be kept completely confidential, of course." (Ek tarah se, haan. Yeh unke swasthya, unki samasyaon, unke gyaan ke baare mein hai. Yeh bahut zaroori vaigyanik kaam hai. Saari jaankari bilkul gupt rakhi jayegi, bilkul.)
Ramesh: "Hmm. This is a village of simple, respectable people, beti. These are not things we discuss with strangers." (Hmm. Yeh seedhe-saadhe, izzatdaar logon ka gaon hai, beti. Yeh sab baatein hum ajnabiyon se nahi karte.)
Simran: "I understand, Sarpanch-ji. That is why I came to you first. To get your permission and your help. I cannot do this work without your support." (Main samajhti hoon, Sarpanch-ji. Isliye main sabse pehle aapke paas aayi. Aapki anumati aur aapki madad ke liye. Main aapke samarthan ke bina yeh kaam nahi kar sakti.)
She spoke earnestly, her voice soft but firm. As she talked, she gestured with her hands, and the movement caused her pallu to slip slightly from her shoulder, revealing the deep curve where her breast met her arm. Ramesh’s eyes darted to the exposed skin before quickly flicking back to her face.
Simran: "For my stay, I will need a room. It must have a clean, private toilet. And I will also need someone to help me, to introduce me to the families here. Someone they trust." (Mere rehne ke liye, mujhe ek kamra chahiye hoga. Usmein ek saaf, private shauchalay hona zaroori hai. Aur mujhe meri madad ke liye bhi koi chahiye hoga, jo mujhe yahan ke parivaron se milwaye. Koi jispar woh bharosa karte hon.)
Just then, a woman in a plain saree came out of the largest house behind the tree, wiping her hands on a cloth.
Ramesh: "Sunita! Bring some water. We have a guest." (Sunita! Paani lao. Mehmaan aayi hain.)
The woman, Sunita, nodded and went back inside.
Ramesh: "That is my wife. We can talk about a room. We have a small guest room at the back of our house. It has a separate bathroom." (Woh meri patni hai. Hum kamre ke baare mein baat kar sakte hain. Hamare ghar ke peeche ek chhota mehmaan-kamra hai. Usmein alag se bathroom hai.)
Sunita returned with a steel glass of cool water.
Sunita: "Here, beti. You must be tired from the journey." (Yeh lo, beti. Safar se thak gayi hogi.)
Simran: "Thank you so much, Aunty." (Bahut bahut dhanyavaad, Aunty.)
Simran turned her body to face Sunita and accept the glass. As she turned, Ramesh was presented with a clear side view. He watched the way the thin, slightly damp blue blouse stretched taut across the large, round curve of her breast. He could see the pale, fair skin of her side and back where the saree gaped a little as she moved. She looked heavy and full, like a ripe fruit. He felt a stirring in his loins, a sudden, sharp interest that had nothing to do with her research.
She finished the water quickly and handed the glass back to Sunita.
Simran: "Thank you again, Sarpanch-ji. You are very kind." (Ek baar phir shukriya, Sarpanch-ji. Aap bahut dayalu hain.)
Ramesh: "Sunita, show her the room. Let her freshen up. We will talk more about this... research... in the evening."
(Sunita, ise kamra dikha do. Use taro-taaza ho lene do. Hum is... research... ke baare mein shaam ko aur baat karenge.)
He said the word 'research' slowly, as if tasting it. A faint smirk touched his lips.
Sunita nodded and gestured for Simran to follow her. As Simran picked up her bag and walked past him towards the house, Ramesh didn't move. His eyes were fixed on the gentle sway of her hips under the saree, his mind already racing far ahead of any scientific study. This city girl, he thought, was going to make life in Rampur very, very interesting.
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