29-01-2026, 05:53 PM
Scene 2
Mom was still standing there, looking in the mirror. Her hand was moving slowly along the edge of the towel, right where it went low into her cleavage. I could see she was thinking hard. The idea was in her head now. I just had to push it a little more. She moved her weight from one leg to the other, and the towel slid up her thigh a bit, showing more of that soft, creamy skin.
Eshan: “So? What do you say, Mom? Vian is waiting for an answer. I can call him right now. He has lights and all set up in his flat. But if you feel shy, he can come here with his camera. In this room only. Just us three.”
Kaveri Mom: “Here? Are you mad, Eshan? What if Gayatri wakes up? What if the maid comes suddenly? No no, this is too much. Log kya sochenge? A mother posing like a model… it’s not decent at all. Main respectable woman hoon.”
Eshan: “Mom, please stop thinking about the world. Gayatri is fast asleep till evening—she came home at 3 AM. Maid is on leave today. And who will see? Only me and Vian. Vian is an artist, he won’t judge. He will treat you like a queen, seriously.”
Kaveri Mom: “But… what will I wear? I can’t wear my normal cotton sarees. They are so boring. And Gayatri’s clothes? Haye ram, I will burst out of them.”
Eshan: “No cotton sarees. And no taking from Gayatri. We need something dhamakedaar. Something that says ‘Kaveri is here’. Classy but… hot.”
I walked to the big teak wardrobe that covered the whole wall. I opened the heavy door. Inside were so many sarees—silk, chiffon, georgette—most of them hardly worn. Mom always buys expensive stuff and keeps it for ‘special days’ that never come because Papa never takes her out.
I moved the hangers and found it. The black net saree. Papa bought it three years ago for their anniversary from a fancy boutique. Mom said it was “too bold” and pushed it to the back.
I took it out. It was pure black net, very sheer, with delicate gold work. Almost no weight. The blouse was killer—tiny sequined halter neck, deep open back, more like lingerie than a blouse.
Eshan: “This one. You are wearing this.”
Kaveri Mom: “Eshan! Bilkul nahi! Put it back. Are you crazy? That blouse has no back! It’s just strings. And the saree is see-through. My whole waist will show. I might as well be naked.”
Eshan: “Mom, just look at the fabric. It will look amazing on your fair skin. White skin against black net? Uff. Trust me. If you wear this, you won’t look 38. You will look 25. Vian said the theme is Motherly but it is not ‘Sati Savitri’. You have to show some skin to show real beauty. Your waist is your best part—why hide it?”
Kaveri Mom: “But my tummy… it’s so soft.”
Eshan: “Your tummy is soft and sexy, Mom. That’s what men like. Not thin like Gayatri. They want something to hold. Stop finding problems. Do it for me? I already told Vian you are the most beautiful woman I know. Don’t make me look like a liar.”
She touched the black fabric with shaking fingers. I could see the fight in her eyes—scared of looking “too much”, but also dying inside to be noticed, to feel desired again.
Kaveri Mom: “And… you will stay there the whole time? You won’t leave me alone with him? I feel very shy, Eshan.”
Eshan: “I’ll be right there, Mom. I’ll guide you. I’ll be your manager. Come on, Maa. Live a little. Papa is on the golf course—he won’t know anything.”
Kaveri Mom: “Okay… but lock the main door properly. If your Papa comes early and sees me like this… he will kill both of us.”
Eshan: “Papa is only on hole number 9 - he just called. He won’t come back for hours. Go and change now.”
She took the saree from my hand. The second she held the thin fabric, she stood a little straighter, took a deep breath. She looked at the mirror one last time. The towel slipped just enough to show the curve of her hip. Then she gave me a small, nervous smile.
Kaveri Mom: “Give me twenty minutes. And Eshan… if I look fat in this, tell me honestly. I don’t want to look like a stuffed potato.”
Eshan: “You will look like a bomb, Mom. Go.”
She turned and walked into the bathroom, hips moving under the towel. I watched her go, then took out my phone and texted Vian.
Game on. She’s getting ready. Bring the wide lens. You’re going to thank me later.
Mom was still standing there, looking in the mirror. Her hand was moving slowly along the edge of the towel, right where it went low into her cleavage. I could see she was thinking hard. The idea was in her head now. I just had to push it a little more. She moved her weight from one leg to the other, and the towel slid up her thigh a bit, showing more of that soft, creamy skin.
Eshan: “So? What do you say, Mom? Vian is waiting for an answer. I can call him right now. He has lights and all set up in his flat. But if you feel shy, he can come here with his camera. In this room only. Just us three.”
Kaveri Mom: “Here? Are you mad, Eshan? What if Gayatri wakes up? What if the maid comes suddenly? No no, this is too much. Log kya sochenge? A mother posing like a model… it’s not decent at all. Main respectable woman hoon.”
Eshan: “Mom, please stop thinking about the world. Gayatri is fast asleep till evening—she came home at 3 AM. Maid is on leave today. And who will see? Only me and Vian. Vian is an artist, he won’t judge. He will treat you like a queen, seriously.”
Kaveri Mom: “But… what will I wear? I can’t wear my normal cotton sarees. They are so boring. And Gayatri’s clothes? Haye ram, I will burst out of them.”
Eshan: “No cotton sarees. And no taking from Gayatri. We need something dhamakedaar. Something that says ‘Kaveri is here’. Classy but… hot.”
I walked to the big teak wardrobe that covered the whole wall. I opened the heavy door. Inside were so many sarees—silk, chiffon, georgette—most of them hardly worn. Mom always buys expensive stuff and keeps it for ‘special days’ that never come because Papa never takes her out.
I moved the hangers and found it. The black net saree. Papa bought it three years ago for their anniversary from a fancy boutique. Mom said it was “too bold” and pushed it to the back.
I took it out. It was pure black net, very sheer, with delicate gold work. Almost no weight. The blouse was killer—tiny sequined halter neck, deep open back, more like lingerie than a blouse.
Eshan: “This one. You are wearing this.”
Kaveri Mom: “Eshan! Bilkul nahi! Put it back. Are you crazy? That blouse has no back! It’s just strings. And the saree is see-through. My whole waist will show. I might as well be naked.”
Eshan: “Mom, just look at the fabric. It will look amazing on your fair skin. White skin against black net? Uff. Trust me. If you wear this, you won’t look 38. You will look 25. Vian said the theme is Motherly but it is not ‘Sati Savitri’. You have to show some skin to show real beauty. Your waist is your best part—why hide it?”
Kaveri Mom: “But my tummy… it’s so soft.”
Eshan: “Your tummy is soft and sexy, Mom. That’s what men like. Not thin like Gayatri. They want something to hold. Stop finding problems. Do it for me? I already told Vian you are the most beautiful woman I know. Don’t make me look like a liar.”
She touched the black fabric with shaking fingers. I could see the fight in her eyes—scared of looking “too much”, but also dying inside to be noticed, to feel desired again.
Kaveri Mom: “And… you will stay there the whole time? You won’t leave me alone with him? I feel very shy, Eshan.”
Eshan: “I’ll be right there, Mom. I’ll guide you. I’ll be your manager. Come on, Maa. Live a little. Papa is on the golf course—he won’t know anything.”
Kaveri Mom: “Okay… but lock the main door properly. If your Papa comes early and sees me like this… he will kill both of us.”
Eshan: “Papa is only on hole number 9 - he just called. He won’t come back for hours. Go and change now.”
She took the saree from my hand. The second she held the thin fabric, she stood a little straighter, took a deep breath. She looked at the mirror one last time. The towel slipped just enough to show the curve of her hip. Then she gave me a small, nervous smile.
Kaveri Mom: “Give me twenty minutes. And Eshan… if I look fat in this, tell me honestly. I don’t want to look like a stuffed potato.”
Eshan: “You will look like a bomb, Mom. Go.”
She turned and walked into the bathroom, hips moving under the towel. I watched her go, then took out my phone and texted Vian.
Game on. She’s getting ready. Bring the wide lens. You’re going to thank me later.
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