11-03-2026, 09:49 PM
(This post was last modified: 24-03-2026, 01:09 PM by Maleficio. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Meanwhile, Jiju’s father and other male relatives had arrived. His father had a big, impressive moustache. My mom suggested, “Let’s sing some songs for our father-in-law.” When I offered to let her start, everyone protested, “No, no, Reenu — you continue!”
Jiju teased me, “Why, saali? Are you already out of stock?”
I pretended to be angry and launched into even rowdier songs. I wanted to target both Jiju and his father, so I began singing while Mummy, Mausi, and the bhabhis repeated my lines like responses:
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna…
Banne ke sar pe shera sohe, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Maliya ka jana!”
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna…
Banne ke kaanon mein kundal sohe, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Sunara ka jana!”
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna…
Banne ke tan pe suit sohe, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Bajaj ka jana!”
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna…
Banne ke paon mein juta sohe, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Mochi ka jana!”
Then Jiju’s father interjected with a laugh, “Arre, the Barat also has Mama ji!” Mummy nodded at me, so I quickly added:
“Banne ke sang mein Mama ji aaye, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Mama ka jana!”
There was loud laughter all around. Since Ravi lived in Dhobi Wali Gali, I continued mischievously:
“Dhobi ki gali se hoke aaya hai banna, arre Dhobi ki gali se hoke aaya hai banna…
Arre log kahen — Gadhe ka jana!”
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna!”
Mami teased, “Arre, dulhe ki bua jo jyon baksh duya, vo bhi to pakki chinar hai!” I immediately started another galli welcoming the baratis. Jiju looked surprised at my endless stock and gave me a thumbs-up. I continued, now targeting his father, uncles, and mama:
“Moti jhalke lali besariyan mein moti jhalke…
Banne ke papa angan mein aaye, Jija ke chacha angan mein aaye…
Aane ko aadar, baithne ko kursi,
Pine ko paani, khane ko khana, aur sang sone ko…
Arre sang sone ko, unke papa ke, unke chacha ke sang maja lene ko…
Dulhe ki bua raji re, maja lene ko!”
His mama laughed and teased Jiju’s father. I continued:
“Moti jhalke lali besariyan mein moti jhalke…
Banne ke mama, hamare Jiju ke mama angan mein aaye…
Aane ko aadar, baithne ko kursi,
Pine ko paani, khane ko khana, aur sang sone ko…
Arre sang sone ko, dulhe ki amma raji re!”
Meanwhile, Jiju’s two cousin sisters, Gita and Guddo, walked in. My bhabhi interjected, “Arre, jara apne ghar walon ka bhi to fayda karo!” I immediately changed track:
“Bhaiya hamare angan mein aaye, banne ka sala angan mein aaye…
Aane ko aadar, baithne ko kursi,
Pine ko paani, khane ko khana, aur sang sone ko…
Sang sone ko, maja lene ko, taang uthane ko…
(And someone added loudly) Khub chudwane ko!
Gita aur Guddo rani raji re, hamare bhaiya ke sang…
Guddo aur Gita chinariya raji re!”
The baratis took it all in good spirit. Gita and Guddo raised their hands to be identified but complained, “Rinu bhabhi, playback singing nahin chalega — add some more spice!”
Jiju joined them and said, “Hey, aisi galli to bhajan si lag rahi hai!”
Dulari — the maid who was more like a relative and treated Cheenu and me like nanads — wanted to jump in with her choicest gallis, but Jiju teased, “Pehle saali har maan lein ki inhe nahin aati.”
My mom refused to back down. “Theek hai, chal Rinu — aaj kas ke suna de!” My bhabhis and mami also goaded me. Badi Mausi added, “Sirf apni side ko nahin, hamari samdhan ko bhi!”
I began with fresh zest and sang a traditional bawdy galli:
“Chal mare ghode chane ke khet mein, chane ke khet mein…
Boya tha gana, banne ki amma ko, bua ko, banne ki mami ko le gaya babha na…
Dabave dono jobana, chane ke khet mein…
Padi thi ghunchi, banne ki jija ki bahna ko, Roma rani ko le gaya maochi…
Roma ki dabave dono choonchi, chane ke khet mein…
Padi thi rai, banne ki bahna ko, Gita saali ko le gaya nai…
Rat bhar kare chudai, chane ke khet mein…
Pada tha roda, banne ki bahna ko, Guddo chinariya ko le gaya ghoda…
Guddo rani ghont rahi launda, chane ke khet mein!”
I asked Jiju teasingly, “Kyon, maja aaya apni bahnon ka haal sunakar?”
He was shameless and taunted me back, “With a lot of effort you must have learned these, but now your stock is over and you’ll return to your bhajans.”
Dulari coaxed me, “Arre Rinu, inhe Ganga ji wala bhajan suna do!” This time I focused only on his sisters — my nanads:
“Ganga ji tumhara bhala karen, Ganga ji…
Hamare Jiju ke bahna ki buriya, Gita rani ki buriya…
Talon aisi, pokhar aisi, jismein 900 gunde nahaan karen,
Bur chode karen, maja loote karen…
Ganga ji tumhara bhala karen, Ganga ji…
Hamare Jiju ke bahna ki buriya, Guddo chinariya ki buriya…
Deg aisi, patile aisi, jismein 9 maund chawal paka kare,
Barati saale khaay karen, maja loote karen…
Ganga ji tumhara bhala karen, Ganga ji!”
Mummy looked at me appreciatively. She, along with Mausi, Dulari, and my bhabhis, joined in, and the flow of gallis continued:
“Aariya aariya bari saale baithe bich mein dulhe raja ji…
Dulhe ki behna, Gita saali phool tode chali, gir padi bichali ji…
Unke Gita chinron ke bhonsade mein ghus gayi ladkiya…
Dauda dauda Ravi bhaiya, apne munhve se khincha lakadiya ji…
Dulhe ki behna, Guddo chinariya phool tode chali, gir padi bichali ji…
Unke Guddo chinron ke bhonsade mein ghus gayi ladkiya…
Ek kadam chale, do kadam chale, tisare amin gadiyon mein ghus gayi lakadiya ji…
Dauda dauda Ravi bhaiya, apne munhve se khincha lakadiya ji!”
Jiju looked at me with new-found respect and saluted. I crossed my arms just below my twin peaks and pushed them up, acknowledging his compliment.
Meanwhile, one of my cousins came running with news of a “crisis” — the girls couldn’t locate Jiju’s shoes, which were supposed to be stolen. When I looked around, I noticed Gita sitting in a strange pose. Although she was squatting on the ground, her legs weren’t touching it. I told my cousin to offer her a chair, but she refused suspiciously. When she shifted position, I saw that she had cleverly hidden the shoes almost inside her skirt.
I quickly devised a plan with my cousins. One girl brought a glass of freezing cold water. Two others positioned themselves behind her, and a cousin brother was sent on the mission. When the water was offered, Gita refused, but my sister insisted. In the confusion, the glass tilted and icy water poured not only over her but straight inside her top, completely wetting her breasts. She jumped up with a shriek from the cold. My cousin brother was ready with a towel and began “drying” her vigorously over her boobs. While she tried to stop him, the two girls behind her quickly snatched Jiju’s shoes and ran away.
We started teasing her mercilessly.
“Hey Gita, what were you doing with shoes in your skirt?”
Bhabhi added, “Arre, why were you keeping shoes in your pussy? We could have given you a nice big cucumber!”
Even Mummy joined in: “So many boys are around and you’re playing with a shoe? Chi chi!”
Poor Gita’s protests were drowned in our laughter.
After the main marriage rituals, it was time for the kohabar ceremony. All the saalis and salhajs blocked Jiju’s entry into the bridal chamber. First, we demanded money for his shoes. Bhabhi announced dramatically, “This time Jiju has to pay a big price because the shoes were hidden under our cute Gita’s skirt — and Gita’s pussy is still virgin, so charge him extra!”
Jiju sang a song and paid a thousand rupees. He whispered to me, “Main dhakka laga kar andar ghus jaunga.”
I replied boldly, “To kya Gita ki tarah samajh rakha hai? Bina dhakke ke andar to jaayega bhi nahin.”
His bhabhis and sisters pushed him forward. The moment he entered, I didn’t leave the doorway. He seized the chance, jostled me, and grabbed my breasts. I didn’t flinch. Instead, I pressed my boobs harder into his hands while my own hand reached down and squeezed him firmly over his pants, sending a clear signal.
As soon as he was inside, the door was closed. Now it was the turn of my mom, mausi, and mami. Jiju was clever — before sitting, he checked the spot, and before bowing, he made sure there were no hidden slippers or sandals. Still, with love, I made him eat the paan that Cheenu had already eaten and drink water that Cheenu had drunk (jutha).
He was asked to blow out a flame, and Mummy and Mausi sang:
“Kar chinare ke dudh bati, neeche tumhari amma, upar hamare banna ke papa…
Chudvaye tumhari amma, chode banna ke papa…”
Bhabhi couldn’t stay behind and joined:
“Kar chinare ke dudh bati, neeche tumhari behna, upar hamare saiyan…
Chodave tumhari behna, chode hamare saiyan…”
I asked Jiju a paheli (riddle):
“Chhati se chhati mile, chhed se chhed ragda-ragdi hoi…
To nikle safed-safed.”
He laughed and said, “Very easy — what Cheenu and I will do tomorrow night!”
We all burst out laughing. I taunted him, “Jiju, it only means that like your sister Gita, you think of only one thing and can’t answer a simple riddle. It’s a chakki — two stones with a hole, and when wheat is ground, white flour comes out.”
Jiju refused to accept defeat easily. “Now you answer the questions from our paper. Samdhin kya dalvati hain aur kya kholti hain when the baratis come?”
Rashmi Bhabhi answered quickly, “Very simple — she opens her eyes to see the Barat and dalvane ke liye mala mein phool dalvati hai.”
Jiju turned to me again: “Okay, saali ji, now answer this — ‘Chandi sa badan tera, phir itni jagah kyon kaali hai?’”
If he meant what I was thinking, it would be difficult to answer. I showed mock anger and said, “Jaake apni bahnon se poochiye na — unki bhi to woh jagah…”
Jiju laughed and clarified, “I know what place you’re thinking of, but have you shown that place to me? Arre, badan means face — on your lovely fair moon-like face, you have black eyes, eyebrows, and eyelids, and they make your chandi sa face so beautiful.”
At the time of vidai, the entire atmosphere changed. Joy and merry songs gave way to sobs. Cheenu was crying, and I couldn’t control my tears either. We had grown up together — she was more than a cousin, more than a sister.
But Jiju, being himself, said, “Hey, if I sob, will you hug me too?”
Including Cheenu, everyone burst into laughter. “For hugging your only saali, you don’t need to sob or wait for an opportunity,” I replied, and hugged him tightly.
We looked at Cheenu. I teased, “Hey, jal to nahin rahi ho?”
She giggled and said, “Vo promise yaad hai?”
“Ekdam,” I replied. “I will not leave him. Bas ek baar aaj tum try kar lo.”
Gita said, “Bhaiya, Rinu bhabhi ko bhi le chaliye.”
I promised to come in the evening for the reception.
I had checked what Cheenu was going to wear for the reception and deliberately wore a similar dress to tease her. Jiju asked me to sit close to him. Cheenu was on one side, and I was on the other. He proudly introduced me to all his friends as “bonus.”
One friend joked, “Ravi, what will you unwrap first tonight?”
Pinching my cheek, Jiju answered, “Of course — bonus!”
His hand brushed my choli as he commented, “Hey, I’m too eager to know what’s behind this choli.”
Now it was Cheenu’s turn to tease me. She said, “Arre, to khol ke dekh lijiye. If you’re worried about me, you have full permission from my side.”
I wanted to pay her back, so I told Jiju, “Jiju, ye jo Cheenu rani itni chahak rahi hain, usko zyada mat tang kijiyega.”
He made a face and said, “Hey, to phir meri suhaag raat kya aisi hi?”
I soothed him while pinching Cheenu’s cheeks and replied, “Mera matlab hai bahut zyada tang kijiyega.”
During dinner, he was very caring and personally escorted me. When it was time to leave, he asked softly, “Hey, kab milega?”
Pointing toward Cheenu, I said, “Pehle aaj ye kila to faateh kar lijiye. Aur phir agli baar jab main milungi na, to mere dono darwaze aapke liye khule rahenge.” I slightly parted my thighs as I said it.
He hugged me tightly and squeezed my breasts, whispering, “Bhool na jaana aur phir mana kar dena.”
I returned his hug and replied, “Kis saali ki himmat hai jo mere is handsome Jiju ko mana kar de?”
I had to leave by the night train, so I rushed back.
Jiju teased me, “Why, saali? Are you already out of stock?”
I pretended to be angry and launched into even rowdier songs. I wanted to target both Jiju and his father, so I began singing while Mummy, Mausi, and the bhabhis repeated my lines like responses:
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna…
Banne ke sar pe shera sohe, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Maliya ka jana!”
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna…
Banne ke kaanon mein kundal sohe, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Sunara ka jana!”
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna…
Banne ke tan pe suit sohe, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Bajaj ka jana!”
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna…
Banne ke paon mein juta sohe, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Mochi ka jana!”
Then Jiju’s father interjected with a laugh, “Arre, the Barat also has Mama ji!” Mummy nodded at me, so I quickly added:
“Banne ke sang mein Mama ji aaye, arre log kahen…
Aare log kahen — Mama ka jana!”
There was loud laughter all around. Since Ravi lived in Dhobi Wali Gali, I continued mischievously:
“Dhobi ki gali se hoke aaya hai banna, arre Dhobi ki gali se hoke aaya hai banna…
Arre log kahen — Gadhe ka jana!”
“Muncho wale samdhi ka pyara banna, hariyala bana shahzada banna!”
Mami teased, “Arre, dulhe ki bua jo jyon baksh duya, vo bhi to pakki chinar hai!” I immediately started another galli welcoming the baratis. Jiju looked surprised at my endless stock and gave me a thumbs-up. I continued, now targeting his father, uncles, and mama:
“Moti jhalke lali besariyan mein moti jhalke…
Banne ke papa angan mein aaye, Jija ke chacha angan mein aaye…
Aane ko aadar, baithne ko kursi,
Pine ko paani, khane ko khana, aur sang sone ko…
Arre sang sone ko, unke papa ke, unke chacha ke sang maja lene ko…
Dulhe ki bua raji re, maja lene ko!”
His mama laughed and teased Jiju’s father. I continued:
“Moti jhalke lali besariyan mein moti jhalke…
Banne ke mama, hamare Jiju ke mama angan mein aaye…
Aane ko aadar, baithne ko kursi,
Pine ko paani, khane ko khana, aur sang sone ko…
Arre sang sone ko, dulhe ki amma raji re!”
Meanwhile, Jiju’s two cousin sisters, Gita and Guddo, walked in. My bhabhi interjected, “Arre, jara apne ghar walon ka bhi to fayda karo!” I immediately changed track:
“Bhaiya hamare angan mein aaye, banne ka sala angan mein aaye…
Aane ko aadar, baithne ko kursi,
Pine ko paani, khane ko khana, aur sang sone ko…
Sang sone ko, maja lene ko, taang uthane ko…
(And someone added loudly) Khub chudwane ko!
Gita aur Guddo rani raji re, hamare bhaiya ke sang…
Guddo aur Gita chinariya raji re!”
The baratis took it all in good spirit. Gita and Guddo raised their hands to be identified but complained, “Rinu bhabhi, playback singing nahin chalega — add some more spice!”
Jiju joined them and said, “Hey, aisi galli to bhajan si lag rahi hai!”
Dulari — the maid who was more like a relative and treated Cheenu and me like nanads — wanted to jump in with her choicest gallis, but Jiju teased, “Pehle saali har maan lein ki inhe nahin aati.”
My mom refused to back down. “Theek hai, chal Rinu — aaj kas ke suna de!” My bhabhis and mami also goaded me. Badi Mausi added, “Sirf apni side ko nahin, hamari samdhan ko bhi!”
I began with fresh zest and sang a traditional bawdy galli:
“Chal mare ghode chane ke khet mein, chane ke khet mein…
Boya tha gana, banne ki amma ko, bua ko, banne ki mami ko le gaya babha na…
Dabave dono jobana, chane ke khet mein…
Padi thi ghunchi, banne ki jija ki bahna ko, Roma rani ko le gaya maochi…
Roma ki dabave dono choonchi, chane ke khet mein…
Padi thi rai, banne ki bahna ko, Gita saali ko le gaya nai…
Rat bhar kare chudai, chane ke khet mein…
Pada tha roda, banne ki bahna ko, Guddo chinariya ko le gaya ghoda…
Guddo rani ghont rahi launda, chane ke khet mein!”
I asked Jiju teasingly, “Kyon, maja aaya apni bahnon ka haal sunakar?”
He was shameless and taunted me back, “With a lot of effort you must have learned these, but now your stock is over and you’ll return to your bhajans.”
Dulari coaxed me, “Arre Rinu, inhe Ganga ji wala bhajan suna do!” This time I focused only on his sisters — my nanads:
“Ganga ji tumhara bhala karen, Ganga ji…
Hamare Jiju ke bahna ki buriya, Gita rani ki buriya…
Talon aisi, pokhar aisi, jismein 900 gunde nahaan karen,
Bur chode karen, maja loote karen…
Ganga ji tumhara bhala karen, Ganga ji…
Hamare Jiju ke bahna ki buriya, Guddo chinariya ki buriya…
Deg aisi, patile aisi, jismein 9 maund chawal paka kare,
Barati saale khaay karen, maja loote karen…
Ganga ji tumhara bhala karen, Ganga ji!”
Mummy looked at me appreciatively. She, along with Mausi, Dulari, and my bhabhis, joined in, and the flow of gallis continued:
“Aariya aariya bari saale baithe bich mein dulhe raja ji…
Dulhe ki behna, Gita saali phool tode chali, gir padi bichali ji…
Unke Gita chinron ke bhonsade mein ghus gayi ladkiya…
Dauda dauda Ravi bhaiya, apne munhve se khincha lakadiya ji…
Dulhe ki behna, Guddo chinariya phool tode chali, gir padi bichali ji…
Unke Guddo chinron ke bhonsade mein ghus gayi ladkiya…
Ek kadam chale, do kadam chale, tisare amin gadiyon mein ghus gayi lakadiya ji…
Dauda dauda Ravi bhaiya, apne munhve se khincha lakadiya ji!”
Jiju looked at me with new-found respect and saluted. I crossed my arms just below my twin peaks and pushed them up, acknowledging his compliment.
Meanwhile, one of my cousins came running with news of a “crisis” — the girls couldn’t locate Jiju’s shoes, which were supposed to be stolen. When I looked around, I noticed Gita sitting in a strange pose. Although she was squatting on the ground, her legs weren’t touching it. I told my cousin to offer her a chair, but she refused suspiciously. When she shifted position, I saw that she had cleverly hidden the shoes almost inside her skirt.
I quickly devised a plan with my cousins. One girl brought a glass of freezing cold water. Two others positioned themselves behind her, and a cousin brother was sent on the mission. When the water was offered, Gita refused, but my sister insisted. In the confusion, the glass tilted and icy water poured not only over her but straight inside her top, completely wetting her breasts. She jumped up with a shriek from the cold. My cousin brother was ready with a towel and began “drying” her vigorously over her boobs. While she tried to stop him, the two girls behind her quickly snatched Jiju’s shoes and ran away.
We started teasing her mercilessly.
“Hey Gita, what were you doing with shoes in your skirt?”
Bhabhi added, “Arre, why were you keeping shoes in your pussy? We could have given you a nice big cucumber!”
Even Mummy joined in: “So many boys are around and you’re playing with a shoe? Chi chi!”
Poor Gita’s protests were drowned in our laughter.
After the main marriage rituals, it was time for the kohabar ceremony. All the saalis and salhajs blocked Jiju’s entry into the bridal chamber. First, we demanded money for his shoes. Bhabhi announced dramatically, “This time Jiju has to pay a big price because the shoes were hidden under our cute Gita’s skirt — and Gita’s pussy is still virgin, so charge him extra!”
Jiju sang a song and paid a thousand rupees. He whispered to me, “Main dhakka laga kar andar ghus jaunga.”
I replied boldly, “To kya Gita ki tarah samajh rakha hai? Bina dhakke ke andar to jaayega bhi nahin.”
His bhabhis and sisters pushed him forward. The moment he entered, I didn’t leave the doorway. He seized the chance, jostled me, and grabbed my breasts. I didn’t flinch. Instead, I pressed my boobs harder into his hands while my own hand reached down and squeezed him firmly over his pants, sending a clear signal.
As soon as he was inside, the door was closed. Now it was the turn of my mom, mausi, and mami. Jiju was clever — before sitting, he checked the spot, and before bowing, he made sure there were no hidden slippers or sandals. Still, with love, I made him eat the paan that Cheenu had already eaten and drink water that Cheenu had drunk (jutha).
He was asked to blow out a flame, and Mummy and Mausi sang:
“Kar chinare ke dudh bati, neeche tumhari amma, upar hamare banna ke papa…
Chudvaye tumhari amma, chode banna ke papa…”
Bhabhi couldn’t stay behind and joined:
“Kar chinare ke dudh bati, neeche tumhari behna, upar hamare saiyan…
Chodave tumhari behna, chode hamare saiyan…”
I asked Jiju a paheli (riddle):
“Chhati se chhati mile, chhed se chhed ragda-ragdi hoi…
To nikle safed-safed.”
He laughed and said, “Very easy — what Cheenu and I will do tomorrow night!”
We all burst out laughing. I taunted him, “Jiju, it only means that like your sister Gita, you think of only one thing and can’t answer a simple riddle. It’s a chakki — two stones with a hole, and when wheat is ground, white flour comes out.”
Jiju refused to accept defeat easily. “Now you answer the questions from our paper. Samdhin kya dalvati hain aur kya kholti hain when the baratis come?”
Rashmi Bhabhi answered quickly, “Very simple — she opens her eyes to see the Barat and dalvane ke liye mala mein phool dalvati hai.”
Jiju turned to me again: “Okay, saali ji, now answer this — ‘Chandi sa badan tera, phir itni jagah kyon kaali hai?’”
If he meant what I was thinking, it would be difficult to answer. I showed mock anger and said, “Jaake apni bahnon se poochiye na — unki bhi to woh jagah…”
Jiju laughed and clarified, “I know what place you’re thinking of, but have you shown that place to me? Arre, badan means face — on your lovely fair moon-like face, you have black eyes, eyebrows, and eyelids, and they make your chandi sa face so beautiful.”
At the time of vidai, the entire atmosphere changed. Joy and merry songs gave way to sobs. Cheenu was crying, and I couldn’t control my tears either. We had grown up together — she was more than a cousin, more than a sister.
But Jiju, being himself, said, “Hey, if I sob, will you hug me too?”
Including Cheenu, everyone burst into laughter. “For hugging your only saali, you don’t need to sob or wait for an opportunity,” I replied, and hugged him tightly.
We looked at Cheenu. I teased, “Hey, jal to nahin rahi ho?”
She giggled and said, “Vo promise yaad hai?”
“Ekdam,” I replied. “I will not leave him. Bas ek baar aaj tum try kar lo.”
Gita said, “Bhaiya, Rinu bhabhi ko bhi le chaliye.”
I promised to come in the evening for the reception.
I had checked what Cheenu was going to wear for the reception and deliberately wore a similar dress to tease her. Jiju asked me to sit close to him. Cheenu was on one side, and I was on the other. He proudly introduced me to all his friends as “bonus.”
One friend joked, “Ravi, what will you unwrap first tonight?”
Pinching my cheek, Jiju answered, “Of course — bonus!”
His hand brushed my choli as he commented, “Hey, I’m too eager to know what’s behind this choli.”
Now it was Cheenu’s turn to tease me. She said, “Arre, to khol ke dekh lijiye. If you’re worried about me, you have full permission from my side.”
I wanted to pay her back, so I told Jiju, “Jiju, ye jo Cheenu rani itni chahak rahi hain, usko zyada mat tang kijiyega.”
He made a face and said, “Hey, to phir meri suhaag raat kya aisi hi?”
I soothed him while pinching Cheenu’s cheeks and replied, “Mera matlab hai bahut zyada tang kijiyega.”
During dinner, he was very caring and personally escorted me. When it was time to leave, he asked softly, “Hey, kab milega?”
Pointing toward Cheenu, I said, “Pehle aaj ye kila to faateh kar lijiye. Aur phir agli baar jab main milungi na, to mere dono darwaze aapke liye khule rahenge.” I slightly parted my thighs as I said it.
He hugged me tightly and squeezed my breasts, whispering, “Bhool na jaana aur phir mana kar dena.”
I returned his hug and replied, “Kis saali ki himmat hai jo mere is handsome Jiju ko mana kar de?”
I had to leave by the night train, so I rushed back.
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