02-12-2025, 07:00 PM
## Update 125: The Stranger Named Mala and the City's Pull (Avi and Another Mala)
As soon as Raj settled onto the bus seat, he fell fast asleep, his head bumping against the window. I took out the thin book with the naked pictures from under my shirt and slipped it into the novel, opening the pages carefully. The book contained explicit stories of fucking with corresponding pictures. There were stories of brother-sister, mother-son, husband-wife, and even Chachi-Bhatija fucking. I was completely shocked after reading the initial stories, thinking it must all be pure fantasy. But after reading the story of Chachi-Bhatija, a wave of heat washed over me. I instantly remembered my own passionate fucking sessions with Meena Chachi. If my own life mirrored the pages of this forbidden book, then the story of brother-sister fucking could not possibly be a lie. My journey passed this way, reading the story and constantly pausing to ponder whether all this was a complete fabrication or the startling truth. In a little while, I had read the entire small book. I quickly put the book away in my bag. I, too, started drifting off to sleep.
It had only been one hour since I sat down when a man gently shook my shoulder, waking me from my doze. I instantly felt a flicker of annoyance at the interruption.
"Beta, can I please get a little space to sit?" the man asked, rubbing his hands together nervously, his eyes tired.
I looked at the man. His face was etched with exhaustion, and I could tell he needed a seat desperately. Perhaps he had asked everyone and no one had given him a spot. I felt a pang of pity for his situation.
*(Internal thoughts: My instinct was to keep the space, but I thought, "Let it go, I'll help him. Anyway, this space was too big for just Raj and me, and one man can sit comfortably on the edge.")* I shifted my legs closer to the aisle, opening up the window side.
"Uncle, please sit down," I offered, gesturing to the empty space.
The man still stood there, leaning into the aisle.
"Why are you standing? I cleared the space," I asked, confused by his delay.
"I don't need it for myself. I can stand," the man said, looking back down the aisle, his voice strained.
"Then who needs it?" I asked, looking toward the back of the bus.
"My wife," the man simply said, nodding toward the front.
He called his wife forward. His wife came to us, holding a small baby, about one year old, securely on her hip. As soon as his wife arrived, she sank onto the seat I had offered, a huge sigh of relief escaping her lips, her body relaxing instantly. The man gave a nod and went ahead, managing to squeeze into a tiny, precarious space near the driver's gear stick, far from us.
"Thank you so much," the woman said, leaning back tiredly, adjusting the baby. "If you hadn't been here, we would have had to travel for three hours standing."
"No problem at all. You have a very cute son," I said, looking at the sleeping child nestled against her. "What is your son's name?"
"Sameer," the woman replied, adjusting the baby on her lap carefully.
"That's a very cute name," I said, smiling at the baby's peaceful face.
"What's your name, young man?" she asked, leaning toward me with a kind smile.
"Avi," I replied.
"Which city are you headed to?" she continued, relaxing into the seat, looking at the passing landscape.
I told her the name of Sweta Didi's city.
"We also live in the same city. Are you going for a trip?" she asked, her voice friendly.
"Yes. My Didi lives there; we're going to visit her and stay for a few days," I explained.
"Is this little one your brother, then?" she asked, glancing at the deeply sleeping Raj by the window.
"Yes, he is. Oh, I didn't even ask for your name yet," I realized, feeling silly for forgetting.
"My name is Mala," the woman said, smiling easily.
I was instantly shocked to hear her name. *I got lost in my thoughts, the bus's vibration fading into a dull roar. Another Mala? Is the name Mala never going to leave me alone? My initial generosity vanished, and I suddenly felt that I had made a huge mistake by giving her the space to sit. The name I desperately wanted to forget had rushed back, refreshing old, bitter memories. I looked at Mala once, anger flickering in my chest. But seeing her son's innocent, peaceful face, I forced myself to control the reaction. I normalized my breathing. Every Mala is not the same, I told myself sternly. Now her name is Mala, and I hate the name Mala, but what is *her* fault in this? I must forget the past Mala.*
"What happened? Didn't you like my name?" Mala asked, tilting her head, having noticed my momentary silence and strange look.
"No, it's not like that at all," I lied, forcing a smile to hide my thoughts. "It's a very cute name. I just remembered an old friend with the same name, and I lost my thought for a moment."
"Friend or girlfriend?" Mala pressed lightly, a teasing tone in her voice, winking at me.
"Just a friend. And she's not even a friend anymore," I said, dismissing the subject quickly, turning my focus to the window.
We continued talking easily, passing the long journey. It was a good thing that I kept talking to Mala; otherwise, it would have been difficult and boring to travel in the bus alone for so long. Mala started talking to me openly and without reserve very quickly. It did not feel like we had only just met two hours ago. Everything happened just as I had eventually reasoned: there was a world of difference between that village Mala and this bus Mala.
There was still one hour of travel left. Raj would stir occasionally, sit up momentarily, and then fall back asleep. Mala's son was also sleeping soundly now. Mala's husband came back once, briefly looked at his wife and child, gave a quick nod, and then went back to his uncomfortable perch near the front of the bus.
"What do you do, Avi?" Mala asked, leaning back against the rough material of the seat.
"What can I do? I'm just studying in college," I said, shrugging slightly.
We were talking when Mala's son began to whimper and cry softly. He was hungry. Mala did not know what to do; how could she possibly feed her son milk in the cramped, crowded public bus?
"Do one thing," I suggested, thinking quickly, looking around the packed bus. "You come to my seat in the middle, and I'll take your seat in the aisle. You'll have more privacy."
"Yes, that will be much better," Mala agreed immediately, grateful for the privacy, shifting the baby.
We changed our seats. Now Raj was still sleeping by the window, Mala sat in the middle, and I sat at the end of the seat, by the aisle. Mala immediately started feeding her son milk. Mala pulled the edge of her *pallu* over her son's head, creating a small, temporary screen so no one could see her breasts. After the baby finished drinking milk from the first breast, she shifted him and started feeding her son from the other. This time, Mala's son was drinking milk from the breast on Raj's side, which was slightly exposed to me. The *pallu* was only covering the breast on my side. She had not tucked the first breast back inside her blouse yet.
I shifted myself slightly on the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. By my slight, involuntary movement, my hand brushed gently against Mala's exposed breast. Mala's breasts felt firm and heavy with milk. As soon as my hand touched her breast, a sharp, strange feeling shot through my body. My lunď got hard instantly just from that unexpected, warm contact. **My breath hitched in my throat, a sudden gasp that I quickly muffled. A burning heat started low in my belly and rushed up to my cheeks.** I vividly remembered Meena Chachi's stern instructions: not to even *think* about fucking in the city by mistake. I froze, acting as if absolutely nothing had happened, my muscles rigid. Mala also did not say anything, her focus entirely on her son. Mala's son fell asleep while drinking milk. Mala gently fixed her clothes, tucking the breast back into her blouse.
Our journey ended while we continued to talk easily like this, filling the hours. Sweta Didi's city finally arrived. Raj's sleep was also complete, and he rubbed his eyes, blinking. The bus pulled to a stop at the terminal. Raj and I got down from the bus, retrieving our bags. Mala also got down with her husband and baby. Mala gave a final wave and went on her way with her family, blending into the crowd. Once again, a girl named Mala had entered my life and then quickly left.
---
As soon as Raj settled onto the bus seat, he fell fast asleep, his head bumping against the window. I took out the thin book with the naked pictures from under my shirt and slipped it into the novel, opening the pages carefully. The book contained explicit stories of fucking with corresponding pictures. There were stories of brother-sister, mother-son, husband-wife, and even Chachi-Bhatija fucking. I was completely shocked after reading the initial stories, thinking it must all be pure fantasy. But after reading the story of Chachi-Bhatija, a wave of heat washed over me. I instantly remembered my own passionate fucking sessions with Meena Chachi. If my own life mirrored the pages of this forbidden book, then the story of brother-sister fucking could not possibly be a lie. My journey passed this way, reading the story and constantly pausing to ponder whether all this was a complete fabrication or the startling truth. In a little while, I had read the entire small book. I quickly put the book away in my bag. I, too, started drifting off to sleep.
It had only been one hour since I sat down when a man gently shook my shoulder, waking me from my doze. I instantly felt a flicker of annoyance at the interruption.
"Beta, can I please get a little space to sit?" the man asked, rubbing his hands together nervously, his eyes tired.
I looked at the man. His face was etched with exhaustion, and I could tell he needed a seat desperately. Perhaps he had asked everyone and no one had given him a spot. I felt a pang of pity for his situation.
*(Internal thoughts: My instinct was to keep the space, but I thought, "Let it go, I'll help him. Anyway, this space was too big for just Raj and me, and one man can sit comfortably on the edge.")* I shifted my legs closer to the aisle, opening up the window side.
"Uncle, please sit down," I offered, gesturing to the empty space.
The man still stood there, leaning into the aisle.
"Why are you standing? I cleared the space," I asked, confused by his delay.
"I don't need it for myself. I can stand," the man said, looking back down the aisle, his voice strained.
"Then who needs it?" I asked, looking toward the back of the bus.
"My wife," the man simply said, nodding toward the front.
He called his wife forward. His wife came to us, holding a small baby, about one year old, securely on her hip. As soon as his wife arrived, she sank onto the seat I had offered, a huge sigh of relief escaping her lips, her body relaxing instantly. The man gave a nod and went ahead, managing to squeeze into a tiny, precarious space near the driver's gear stick, far from us.
"Thank you so much," the woman said, leaning back tiredly, adjusting the baby. "If you hadn't been here, we would have had to travel for three hours standing."
"No problem at all. You have a very cute son," I said, looking at the sleeping child nestled against her. "What is your son's name?"
"Sameer," the woman replied, adjusting the baby on her lap carefully.
"That's a very cute name," I said, smiling at the baby's peaceful face.
"What's your name, young man?" she asked, leaning toward me with a kind smile.
"Avi," I replied.
"Which city are you headed to?" she continued, relaxing into the seat, looking at the passing landscape.
I told her the name of Sweta Didi's city.
"We also live in the same city. Are you going for a trip?" she asked, her voice friendly.
"Yes. My Didi lives there; we're going to visit her and stay for a few days," I explained.
"Is this little one your brother, then?" she asked, glancing at the deeply sleeping Raj by the window.
"Yes, he is. Oh, I didn't even ask for your name yet," I realized, feeling silly for forgetting.
"My name is Mala," the woman said, smiling easily.
I was instantly shocked to hear her name. *I got lost in my thoughts, the bus's vibration fading into a dull roar. Another Mala? Is the name Mala never going to leave me alone? My initial generosity vanished, and I suddenly felt that I had made a huge mistake by giving her the space to sit. The name I desperately wanted to forget had rushed back, refreshing old, bitter memories. I looked at Mala once, anger flickering in my chest. But seeing her son's innocent, peaceful face, I forced myself to control the reaction. I normalized my breathing. Every Mala is not the same, I told myself sternly. Now her name is Mala, and I hate the name Mala, but what is *her* fault in this? I must forget the past Mala.*
"What happened? Didn't you like my name?" Mala asked, tilting her head, having noticed my momentary silence and strange look.
"No, it's not like that at all," I lied, forcing a smile to hide my thoughts. "It's a very cute name. I just remembered an old friend with the same name, and I lost my thought for a moment."
"Friend or girlfriend?" Mala pressed lightly, a teasing tone in her voice, winking at me.
"Just a friend. And she's not even a friend anymore," I said, dismissing the subject quickly, turning my focus to the window.
We continued talking easily, passing the long journey. It was a good thing that I kept talking to Mala; otherwise, it would have been difficult and boring to travel in the bus alone for so long. Mala started talking to me openly and without reserve very quickly. It did not feel like we had only just met two hours ago. Everything happened just as I had eventually reasoned: there was a world of difference between that village Mala and this bus Mala.
There was still one hour of travel left. Raj would stir occasionally, sit up momentarily, and then fall back asleep. Mala's son was also sleeping soundly now. Mala's husband came back once, briefly looked at his wife and child, gave a quick nod, and then went back to his uncomfortable perch near the front of the bus.
"What do you do, Avi?" Mala asked, leaning back against the rough material of the seat.
"What can I do? I'm just studying in college," I said, shrugging slightly.
We were talking when Mala's son began to whimper and cry softly. He was hungry. Mala did not know what to do; how could she possibly feed her son milk in the cramped, crowded public bus?
"Do one thing," I suggested, thinking quickly, looking around the packed bus. "You come to my seat in the middle, and I'll take your seat in the aisle. You'll have more privacy."
"Yes, that will be much better," Mala agreed immediately, grateful for the privacy, shifting the baby.
We changed our seats. Now Raj was still sleeping by the window, Mala sat in the middle, and I sat at the end of the seat, by the aisle. Mala immediately started feeding her son milk. Mala pulled the edge of her *pallu* over her son's head, creating a small, temporary screen so no one could see her breasts. After the baby finished drinking milk from the first breast, she shifted him and started feeding her son from the other. This time, Mala's son was drinking milk from the breast on Raj's side, which was slightly exposed to me. The *pallu* was only covering the breast on my side. She had not tucked the first breast back inside her blouse yet.
I shifted myself slightly on the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. By my slight, involuntary movement, my hand brushed gently against Mala's exposed breast. Mala's breasts felt firm and heavy with milk. As soon as my hand touched her breast, a sharp, strange feeling shot through my body. My lunď got hard instantly just from that unexpected, warm contact. **My breath hitched in my throat, a sudden gasp that I quickly muffled. A burning heat started low in my belly and rushed up to my cheeks.** I vividly remembered Meena Chachi's stern instructions: not to even *think* about fucking in the city by mistake. I froze, acting as if absolutely nothing had happened, my muscles rigid. Mala also did not say anything, her focus entirely on her son. Mala's son fell asleep while drinking milk. Mala gently fixed her clothes, tucking the breast back into her blouse.
Our journey ended while we continued to talk easily like this, filling the hours. Sweta Didi's city finally arrived. Raj's sleep was also complete, and he rubbed his eyes, blinking. The bus pulled to a stop at the terminal. Raj and I got down from the bus, retrieving our bags. Mala also got down with her husband and baby. Mala gave a final wave and went on her way with her family, blending into the crowd. Once again, a girl named Mala had entered my life and then quickly left.
---
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