06-02-2026, 07:18 PM
After the kiss, Divya felt very shy.
Her cheeks became hot like fire. Lips tingling. She pulled back fast.
Looked down. Could not see Hamee eyes. Mangalsutra felt heavy on chest.
Shame came like wave — she kissed rickshaw puller in her own kitchen while husband bathing.
Hamee looked at her one second. Dirty smile small. Then he turned. Took halwa bowl from counter.
Said low, “Thank you memsab. Happy birthday to Monu beta.”
He went out kitchen. Out house. Waited at gate for Monu.
Monu came running. “Bye Mummy! !”
Hamee helped Monu sit in rickshaw. Started pedaling. Rickshaw went away. Children laughing sound faded.
Ranjith bath finished. Came in hall with towel on shoulder. Hair wet.
He looked around. Asked , “Where is rickshaw pullar?”
Divya was in kitchen. Back to him.
Hands busy with kheer spoon. Face still red. She said quick, without turning.
“He is hurry. Had to take other children also.”
Ranjith nodded. “Achha. Sweet taste good. Monu happy hoga.”
Divya said “Haan” soft. Still not looking at him.
She felt dirty. Guilty. But little heat also there from kiss.
Ranjith went to hall. Sat with newspaper.
Divya stayed in kitchen. Spoon moving slow. Eyes wet little.
That evening Divya mother called her on phone.
“Beta, ghar aa ja thodi der ke liye. Papa ki tabiyat thik nahi. Bas 2-3 din reh kar aa jaana.”
Divya heart became heavy. She said, “Theek hai Maa. Main aa rahi hoon.”
she packed small bag. Told Ranjith, “Maa ne bulaya hai. Papa ki tabiyat kharab hai. Main 2 din mein wapas aa jaungi.”
Ranjith nodded. “Jaao . Monu ko main sambhal lunga. Careful rehna.”
she went to bus stop. Bus came. She sat near window. Bus started moving.
Village 4 hours away. Bus bumpy. Divya looked outside. Mind full of last days — Beedaa, Hamee, shame, guilt.
Reached village evening. Mother hugged her tight. Father in bed. Weak smile. “Beta aa gayi.”
Divya stayed two days. Cooked food. Gave medicine to father. Talked with mother. Laughed with cousins. But inside — disturbance not gone.
Every time she saw mangalsutra in mirror, she felt bad wife.
Second day night she slept on charpoy outside. Stars shining. Cool wind. She thought about Ranjith, Monu, home.
Also about Hamee dirty face. His kiss. His penis between breasts. Shame came again. She moaned soft.
Divya family was very traditional in village. Everyone respected her father.
He was astrology pandit.
People came from far to ask him about marriage, job, health, child birth.
He read horoscope, gave muhurat, told good-bad days.
All villagers called him "Pandit ji" with respect.
He wore white dhoti-kurta, tilak on forehead, rudraksh mala.
Never ate non-veg. Never drank.
Always spoke calm and wise.
Divya mother was simple housewife. Cooked on chulha. Kept house clean. Wore saree always.
Never went out without pallu on head.
She taught Divya everything — how to cook, how to serve husband, how to do pooja, how to keep family izzat.
In village, Divya grew up like that only. No boyfriend. No late night. Always home before dark.
Father strict. "Ladki ka sabse bada dhan uski izzat hai." He said this many times.
When Divya married Ranjith, father himself chose muhurat. Big wedding in village. All relatives came. Divya wore red saree. Looked like goddess. Everyone said, "Pandit ji ki beti kitni sundar aur sanskari hai."
But now, Divya in city. Far from village. Far from father rules. Far from mother teachings.
Last few days — Beedaa, Hamee, dirty touches, sex in house, cum on body — all this felt like big sin.
If father knew, he would break. If mother knew, she would cry whole life.
Shame became bigger after village visit. She saw father face. Weak but still proud. He blessed her.
Her cheeks became hot like fire. Lips tingling. She pulled back fast.
Looked down. Could not see Hamee eyes. Mangalsutra felt heavy on chest.
Shame came like wave — she kissed rickshaw puller in her own kitchen while husband bathing.
Hamee looked at her one second. Dirty smile small. Then he turned. Took halwa bowl from counter.
Said low, “Thank you memsab. Happy birthday to Monu beta.”
He went out kitchen. Out house. Waited at gate for Monu.
Monu came running. “Bye Mummy! !”
Hamee helped Monu sit in rickshaw. Started pedaling. Rickshaw went away. Children laughing sound faded.
Ranjith bath finished. Came in hall with towel on shoulder. Hair wet.
He looked around. Asked , “Where is rickshaw pullar?”
Divya was in kitchen. Back to him.
Hands busy with kheer spoon. Face still red. She said quick, without turning.
“He is hurry. Had to take other children also.”
Ranjith nodded. “Achha. Sweet taste good. Monu happy hoga.”
Divya said “Haan” soft. Still not looking at him.
She felt dirty. Guilty. But little heat also there from kiss.
Ranjith went to hall. Sat with newspaper.
Divya stayed in kitchen. Spoon moving slow. Eyes wet little.
That evening Divya mother called her on phone.
“Beta, ghar aa ja thodi der ke liye. Papa ki tabiyat thik nahi. Bas 2-3 din reh kar aa jaana.”
Divya heart became heavy. She said, “Theek hai Maa. Main aa rahi hoon.”
she packed small bag. Told Ranjith, “Maa ne bulaya hai. Papa ki tabiyat kharab hai. Main 2 din mein wapas aa jaungi.”
Ranjith nodded. “Jaao . Monu ko main sambhal lunga. Careful rehna.”
she went to bus stop. Bus came. She sat near window. Bus started moving.
Village 4 hours away. Bus bumpy. Divya looked outside. Mind full of last days — Beedaa, Hamee, shame, guilt.
Reached village evening. Mother hugged her tight. Father in bed. Weak smile. “Beta aa gayi.”
Divya stayed two days. Cooked food. Gave medicine to father. Talked with mother. Laughed with cousins. But inside — disturbance not gone.
Every time she saw mangalsutra in mirror, she felt bad wife.
Second day night she slept on charpoy outside. Stars shining. Cool wind. She thought about Ranjith, Monu, home.
Also about Hamee dirty face. His kiss. His penis between breasts. Shame came again. She moaned soft.
Divya family was very traditional in village. Everyone respected her father.
He was astrology pandit.
People came from far to ask him about marriage, job, health, child birth.
He read horoscope, gave muhurat, told good-bad days.
All villagers called him "Pandit ji" with respect.
He wore white dhoti-kurta, tilak on forehead, rudraksh mala.
Never ate non-veg. Never drank.
Always spoke calm and wise.
Divya mother was simple housewife. Cooked on chulha. Kept house clean. Wore saree always.
Never went out without pallu on head.
She taught Divya everything — how to cook, how to serve husband, how to do pooja, how to keep family izzat.
In village, Divya grew up like that only. No boyfriend. No late night. Always home before dark.
Father strict. "Ladki ka sabse bada dhan uski izzat hai." He said this many times.
When Divya married Ranjith, father himself chose muhurat. Big wedding in village. All relatives came. Divya wore red saree. Looked like goddess. Everyone said, "Pandit ji ki beti kitni sundar aur sanskari hai."
But now, Divya in city. Far from village. Far from father rules. Far from mother teachings.
Last few days — Beedaa, Hamee, dirty touches, sex in house, cum on body — all this felt like big sin.
If father knew, he would break. If mother knew, she would cry whole life.
Shame became bigger after village visit. She saw father face. Weak but still proud. He blessed her.
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