My Adopted Mom

[ashuezy2]

Scene 4

It was not "every two days" anymore. It had become a nasha (addiction).
My life was now cut into two parts. The boring, pheeka (flavourless) part at home, where I just pushed food around my plate... and the secret, electric part of my "special check-ups" with my Anjali-mom.

It had been three weeks. I was bolder now. I didn't care about Vinod. I would just walk in, and he would just stare at me as I passed. I didn't care.
I went into the room. The kundi (latch) on the door clicked shut behind me. The sound was a familiar comfort.
But something was different. Dr. Anjali was not at her desk. She was standing next to the patient bed. And next to her was something new. A big, old, metal weighing scale. The kind wrestlers use.

She was smiling, her hands on her hips. She was in a dark blue saree, and her eyes were sparkling.
Dr. Anjali: Aao, mere pehelwan! (Come, my wrestler!)
She announced that today was the asli (real) test. Three weeks of her special "medicine." It was time to see if her beta was growing.
Dr. Anjali: Chalo, shirt... aur (and) pants, utaro (remove).
My breath stopped. P-Pants?
She just laughed, her voice firm but playful. Arey haan! (Oh, yes!) How else could she get my correct weight? Jeans were heavy. I shouldn't be (shy). She was, after all, my doctor-mom. Her voice was daring me.

Slowly, my hands shaking, I took off my shirt. Then, I unhooked my jeans and let them fall to the floor. I was just standing there... in my underwear. My face was burning hot.
She walked around me, slowly, inspecting me. Like a (hunter) inspecting her catch.
Hmmmm.
Her fingers tapped my stomach. "Still flat." They tapped my chest. "Still bony." Then, she walked behind me.
...Thwack!

A sharp, playful chamaat (slap) landed right on my bum. I yelped, jumping in shock.

Dr. Anjali: Bilkul haddi! (Purely bone!) Useless!
She was laughing at my surprise. Kya "doctor-ji"? Get on the scale. Chup-chaap (Quietly).
I quickly stepped onto the cold metal platform. I watched her move the iron weights. Clank. Clank. Her smile faded. She clicked her tongue. Tch tch tch.
Only one kilo in three weeks. She called me a bahut nalayak ladka (a very useless boy).

She sounded genuinely disappointed. And I felt a hot, sinking wave of... shame. I had failed her. I tried to mumble that I was eating, but she just sighed. My mother's food wasn't working. She would have to do everything.
She made me sit on the bed. I was still just in my underwear, feeling small and exposed. She went to her desk and took out a shining, steel dabba (tiffin box).

Dr. Anjali: Chalo. If you can't feed yourself, your Anjali-mom will feed you.
She opened it. Kaju Katli. My favourite.

Dr. Anjali: Muh kholo. (Open your mouth).
I blushed, "I can eat..."

Dr. Anjali: Chup! (Quiet!)
Her voice was sharp. I had my chance. Aaaah karo.
I couldn't say no. I slowly opened my mouth. She pushed the big piece of mithai (sweet) inside. It was so soft, melting in my mouth, full of ghee and sugar.

Dr. Anjali: (Softly) Good boy. Chabao. (Chew).
This, she whispered, was the asli medicine. This would put heat and charbi (fat) on me. She made me eat four whole pieces. I was feeling full, sleepy, my head swimming in the sweetness.

Dr. Anjali: Bas. (Enough). Now... for the final dose.
She smiled and pulled me up from the bed. She pushed me against the wall and pressed her entire body against mine. I was just in my underwear. I could feel everything. Her soft saree, her warm stomach, and her big, heavy breasts pressing hard into my bony chest.
Her voice was a thick whisper in my ear, her breath hot.

Dr. Anjali: Feel that, Shaan? First the mithai, then the heat. This is how my golu-molu will grow.
She rubbed her body against mine, slowly, up and down.

Dr. Anjali: You must become fat and naram (soft) for me. I need something to hold.
My head was spinning. The rich mithai and her overpowering garmi (heat)... it was too much. She finally pulled back, her eyes sparkling with victory.
Dr. Anjali: Okay. Dose complete.
She tapped my red-hot cheek.
Dr. Anjali: Get dressed. And next week... I want 2 kilos. Understood? Or the chamaat will be harder.
I just nodded, my whole body trembling. I fumbled to put on my jeans and shirt. I unlocked the kundi and stumbled out of the room. I didn't just feel "hot" anymore. I felt like I was on fire.