11-03-2026, 08:14 PM
(This post was last modified: 24-03-2026, 01:05 PM by Maleficio. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
I was jolted out of my memories when the telephone rang again. This time it was my mother.
Mummy told me that the marriage rituals would begin in three days. Since neither Cheenu nor Neelu could attend, I had to reach at least two days before the wedding day. My husband immediately arranged my flight tickets. It was decided that Cheenu’s husband, Ravi, would receive me at Palam Airport. I didn’t tell my husband how eager Jijaji was to pick me up.
I asked my husband once more if he could try to come for the wedding, but he shook his head. “Reenu, you know our friend Mr. Singh? He has a one-room set right next to Mausa ji’s house. He insists that you stay there. I suggest you at least drop your luggage there. You may need a private room during the marriage when the house gets too crowded. You can either stay there yourself or let some relatives use it. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Singh.”
He added with a smile, “Reenu, remember that scheme where you get one credit card free for your spouse? Today a card arrived in your name on my company account. Go ahead and splurge for the wedding.”
I felt immensely happy. As I went to the kitchen to get some food, I kept thinking how delighted Jijaji would be when he heard that only forty-eight hours separated us.
The moment my husband left for the office, I began planning what I would wear for the wedding. I wanted to look different this time — as sexy and bold as possible. I decided to go through Cheenu’s wedding album to see what I had worn during her marriage and make sure my outfit would be much more daring now.
The very first picture made me lose my breath. There was Ravi — my Jiju — looking so dashing and handsome that I was almost hypnotized. Even though he was smiling at Cheenu in the photograph, his eyes were not focused on her. I had never noticed it before. He was gazing intently at my breasts. At that time they were 34C — proud, firm, and prominently displayed in a traditional deep-cleavage, backless choli. The chunri that was supposed to cover them was still in my hands.
There were other pictures too — of the dinner where I was feeding him with my henna-covered hands, singing the lewdest gallis and teasing him. In one shot, I was blocking his way to the kohabar, and the memory of what he did to me there almost made my nipples harden.
My thoughts drifted back to Cheenu’s wedding.
My own marriage had taken place just one month before Cheenu’s, even though she had been engaged a year earlier than me. I had returned from my honeymoon, and everyone — especially my mausis and cousins — was teasing me endlessly. In return, I teased Cheenu, joined by two of her bhabhis, Madhu Bhabhi and Rashmi Bhabhi (wives of Ravi’s cousins who had come for the wedding).
However, when it came to singing gallis, I too, as the nanad, became the target of the choicest abuses. There was an old custom of singing sexy, rowdy songs in a hall where only women were allowed. The purpose was to give sexual education to the bride and help her shed her inhibitions.
I had heard that Ravi was very extroverted and bold, and his family was even more open-minded than ours — almost shamelessly so. The groom arrived at night on a horse, accompanied by a grand procession called the Barat. Liquor and sweets flowed freely. Everyone in the Barat was showered with expensive gifts, including bikes.
When the Barat reached our house, a sehra was read from the bride’s side and some teasing songs were sung by my mausi and mummy. In return, the groom and his relatives, including his father (samadhi), distributed printed sheets containing bawdy questions and jokes aimed at us. One question especially pointed toward me: “Why is the moon-like face looking so grim and dark today?”
I noticed that Mummy, Mausi, and Mami were enjoying these sheets thoroughly.
Since I was newly married, I felt more daring and carefree. I walked straight up to Jiju, introduced myself, but before I could say much, he caught my hands and said, “Yes, I know you, Reenu. You are my younger but most favourite and prettiest saali. See, as soon as you came this side, the lights dimmed. Do you know why? The light felt poor in front of such a moon-like face.”
He went on quoting romantic verses of Omar Khayyam, all about a beautiful face. It was clear he was far more interested in me than in Cheenu. Though I didn’t admit it, Ravi’s words and verses were melting me.
As soon as the jaimala ceremony was over, he pulled me into a quiet corner and started chatting. Most of the time he shamelessly stared at my breasts. To encourage him, I deliberately removed my chunri and played with it in my hands.
He said, “Saali ji, I have a complaint against you.”
I giggled. “I know, but how can I make amends? It was written in the stars. Still, you can cash your cheque whenever you want. After all, I am your saali.”
He looked delighted and said, “Sacchi?”
I replied in his own style, “Haan, but there is punishment for premature withdrawal.”
He laughed loudly.
Meanwhile, his friends joined us. I said, “Please introduce me to your friends.”
Ravi smiled, “Sure. Let me introduce my youngest but cutest saali to all of you.”
Before he could continue, they all chorused, “Yes, we know she is your only saali.” One of them added with a naughty grin, “Your saali is too sexy, yaar.”
Jiju frowned, but I quickly said, “Don’t mind him, he is just flattering me.” Everyone burst into laughter and the mood became even merrier.
He introduced me to all his cousins and female relatives, and I made sure to remember their names for later use.
After some time, I went away to attend to some chores. When I returned, Ravi was having dinner, but none of his friends or relatives were around. I asked him what kind of food he liked.
“Non-veg,” he replied with a wink.
I laughed and snatched the plate from his hand. “Jiju, from now on you should leave all these indecent habits. You should eat with a spoon and fork.”
He laughed and said, “But when a beautiful saali like you is around, how can I forget my old naughty habits?”
I pretended to be angry. “Hey Jiju, don’t make any difference between me and Cheenu. From tomorrow Cheenu will feed you, but tonight I will feed you.” I started feeding him with my own henna-filled hands.
When only one morsel was left, I took it to his mouth but deliberately smeared it on his handsome cheek. He looked angry for a second, but such pranks are common during weddings. The bride’s younger sister has the privilege to tease the groom — sometimes hiding his clothes, sometimes misplacing his shoes. To get them back, the groom has to pay money to the saali and her friends.
Ravi took me to the ice-cream stall and insisted on feeding me. To be safe, I told him to use a spoon so he couldn’t pay me back in the same coin. But he had another trick ready. When the ice cream was almost finished, he took a big scoop, pretended to eat it, then suddenly bent and poured it straight into my deep cleavage. There was no one in that corner.
“Now we are even, saali,” he said with a wicked smile. “May I clean it for you? I will use only my lips.”
I turned away quickly to let the ice cream slide out of my choli and even loosened the string a little. For a moment he almost saw my breasts. I pretended to be angry and said, “Main aapse gussa hoon.”
But he immediately took me to the paan stall, fed me paan with his own hands, and I fed him back, saying, “Okay, now we are even.”
After some time, the groom came to the mandap for the marriage rituals. I had changed into a tight salwar-kurta. Since he had already seen my cleavage, I decided to flaunt the full height of my twin peaks. I was wearing a dupatta, but it was loosely dbangd around my neck. I took a position close to Jiju and began singing. Cheenu’s bhabhi was playing the dholak.
I started with some fun welcome songs full of double meanings:
“Swagat main gali sunaon, meri sakhiyan swagat main gali sunao…
Banne ke mathe pe tika nahin hai, tikuli aur bindi lagao…
Banne ke haath mein ghadiyan nahin, kangan aur choodi pahano…
Banne ke pair mein mauje nahin, payal aur bichhuyen pahano…
Banne ke tan pe shirt nahin, usko to saari pahano…
Banne ke seene pe baniyan nahin, usko to choli (mummy added: body) pahano…
Banne ke paas mein pant nahin, isko to saya pahano…
Banne ke sang mein randi nahin, arey iski to behna nachao…”
[Welcome to the night of sweet abuses… Make our bride shed her inhibitions…
Arrange beautiful clothes for the groom… Put a bindi on his forehead…
Bath him in perfumed oil and make his body shining and fragrant.]
Mummy told me that the marriage rituals would begin in three days. Since neither Cheenu nor Neelu could attend, I had to reach at least two days before the wedding day. My husband immediately arranged my flight tickets. It was decided that Cheenu’s husband, Ravi, would receive me at Palam Airport. I didn’t tell my husband how eager Jijaji was to pick me up.
I asked my husband once more if he could try to come for the wedding, but he shook his head. “Reenu, you know our friend Mr. Singh? He has a one-room set right next to Mausa ji’s house. He insists that you stay there. I suggest you at least drop your luggage there. You may need a private room during the marriage when the house gets too crowded. You can either stay there yourself or let some relatives use it. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Singh.”
He added with a smile, “Reenu, remember that scheme where you get one credit card free for your spouse? Today a card arrived in your name on my company account. Go ahead and splurge for the wedding.”
I felt immensely happy. As I went to the kitchen to get some food, I kept thinking how delighted Jijaji would be when he heard that only forty-eight hours separated us.
The moment my husband left for the office, I began planning what I would wear for the wedding. I wanted to look different this time — as sexy and bold as possible. I decided to go through Cheenu’s wedding album to see what I had worn during her marriage and make sure my outfit would be much more daring now.
The very first picture made me lose my breath. There was Ravi — my Jiju — looking so dashing and handsome that I was almost hypnotized. Even though he was smiling at Cheenu in the photograph, his eyes were not focused on her. I had never noticed it before. He was gazing intently at my breasts. At that time they were 34C — proud, firm, and prominently displayed in a traditional deep-cleavage, backless choli. The chunri that was supposed to cover them was still in my hands.
There were other pictures too — of the dinner where I was feeding him with my henna-covered hands, singing the lewdest gallis and teasing him. In one shot, I was blocking his way to the kohabar, and the memory of what he did to me there almost made my nipples harden.
My thoughts drifted back to Cheenu’s wedding.
My own marriage had taken place just one month before Cheenu’s, even though she had been engaged a year earlier than me. I had returned from my honeymoon, and everyone — especially my mausis and cousins — was teasing me endlessly. In return, I teased Cheenu, joined by two of her bhabhis, Madhu Bhabhi and Rashmi Bhabhi (wives of Ravi’s cousins who had come for the wedding).
However, when it came to singing gallis, I too, as the nanad, became the target of the choicest abuses. There was an old custom of singing sexy, rowdy songs in a hall where only women were allowed. The purpose was to give sexual education to the bride and help her shed her inhibitions.
I had heard that Ravi was very extroverted and bold, and his family was even more open-minded than ours — almost shamelessly so. The groom arrived at night on a horse, accompanied by a grand procession called the Barat. Liquor and sweets flowed freely. Everyone in the Barat was showered with expensive gifts, including bikes.
When the Barat reached our house, a sehra was read from the bride’s side and some teasing songs were sung by my mausi and mummy. In return, the groom and his relatives, including his father (samadhi), distributed printed sheets containing bawdy questions and jokes aimed at us. One question especially pointed toward me: “Why is the moon-like face looking so grim and dark today?”
I noticed that Mummy, Mausi, and Mami were enjoying these sheets thoroughly.
Since I was newly married, I felt more daring and carefree. I walked straight up to Jiju, introduced myself, but before I could say much, he caught my hands and said, “Yes, I know you, Reenu. You are my younger but most favourite and prettiest saali. See, as soon as you came this side, the lights dimmed. Do you know why? The light felt poor in front of such a moon-like face.”
He went on quoting romantic verses of Omar Khayyam, all about a beautiful face. It was clear he was far more interested in me than in Cheenu. Though I didn’t admit it, Ravi’s words and verses were melting me.
As soon as the jaimala ceremony was over, he pulled me into a quiet corner and started chatting. Most of the time he shamelessly stared at my breasts. To encourage him, I deliberately removed my chunri and played with it in my hands.
He said, “Saali ji, I have a complaint against you.”
I giggled. “I know, but how can I make amends? It was written in the stars. Still, you can cash your cheque whenever you want. After all, I am your saali.”
He looked delighted and said, “Sacchi?”
I replied in his own style, “Haan, but there is punishment for premature withdrawal.”
He laughed loudly.
Meanwhile, his friends joined us. I said, “Please introduce me to your friends.”
Ravi smiled, “Sure. Let me introduce my youngest but cutest saali to all of you.”
Before he could continue, they all chorused, “Yes, we know she is your only saali.” One of them added with a naughty grin, “Your saali is too sexy, yaar.”
Jiju frowned, but I quickly said, “Don’t mind him, he is just flattering me.” Everyone burst into laughter and the mood became even merrier.
He introduced me to all his cousins and female relatives, and I made sure to remember their names for later use.
After some time, I went away to attend to some chores. When I returned, Ravi was having dinner, but none of his friends or relatives were around. I asked him what kind of food he liked.
“Non-veg,” he replied with a wink.
I laughed and snatched the plate from his hand. “Jiju, from now on you should leave all these indecent habits. You should eat with a spoon and fork.”
He laughed and said, “But when a beautiful saali like you is around, how can I forget my old naughty habits?”
I pretended to be angry. “Hey Jiju, don’t make any difference between me and Cheenu. From tomorrow Cheenu will feed you, but tonight I will feed you.” I started feeding him with my own henna-filled hands.
When only one morsel was left, I took it to his mouth but deliberately smeared it on his handsome cheek. He looked angry for a second, but such pranks are common during weddings. The bride’s younger sister has the privilege to tease the groom — sometimes hiding his clothes, sometimes misplacing his shoes. To get them back, the groom has to pay money to the saali and her friends.
Ravi took me to the ice-cream stall and insisted on feeding me. To be safe, I told him to use a spoon so he couldn’t pay me back in the same coin. But he had another trick ready. When the ice cream was almost finished, he took a big scoop, pretended to eat it, then suddenly bent and poured it straight into my deep cleavage. There was no one in that corner.
“Now we are even, saali,” he said with a wicked smile. “May I clean it for you? I will use only my lips.”
I turned away quickly to let the ice cream slide out of my choli and even loosened the string a little. For a moment he almost saw my breasts. I pretended to be angry and said, “Main aapse gussa hoon.”
But he immediately took me to the paan stall, fed me paan with his own hands, and I fed him back, saying, “Okay, now we are even.”
After some time, the groom came to the mandap for the marriage rituals. I had changed into a tight salwar-kurta. Since he had already seen my cleavage, I decided to flaunt the full height of my twin peaks. I was wearing a dupatta, but it was loosely dbangd around my neck. I took a position close to Jiju and began singing. Cheenu’s bhabhi was playing the dholak.
I started with some fun welcome songs full of double meanings:
“Swagat main gali sunaon, meri sakhiyan swagat main gali sunao…
Banne ke mathe pe tika nahin hai, tikuli aur bindi lagao…
Banne ke haath mein ghadiyan nahin, kangan aur choodi pahano…
Banne ke pair mein mauje nahin, payal aur bichhuyen pahano…
Banne ke tan pe shirt nahin, usko to saari pahano…
Banne ke seene pe baniyan nahin, usko to choli (mummy added: body) pahano…
Banne ke paas mein pant nahin, isko to saya pahano…
Banne ke sang mein randi nahin, arey iski to behna nachao…”
[Welcome to the night of sweet abuses… Make our bride shed her inhibitions…
Arrange beautiful clothes for the groom… Put a bindi on his forehead…
Bath him in perfumed oil and make his body shining and fragrant.]
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