23-07-2026, 04:20 PM
Morning. Temple.
She went early—before the crowd, before the heat. Dressed in a simple white saree with gold border. Hair in a bun. Fresh jasmine. Minimal kajal.
The temple was cool and quiet. Incense hung in the air like trapped ghosts. She knelt before the deity, closed her eyes, folded her hands.
Forgive me. I don't know what I've become. I don't know how to stop.
"Devika amma?"
Her eyes snapped open.
Rajendran stood three feet away. White dhoti, angavastram dbangd over one shoulder, the thick red kumkum mark splitting his forehead. His long fingers held a brass plate of vibhuti.
"Good morning, amma. Early today?"
"Yes." She stood. Took a step back. Instinct. "Just wanted some quiet."
His small sharp eyes moved over her face. Lingered on her throat—where the faintest shadow of Kulkarni's love bite still remained under her foundation.
"You look tired, amma. Not sleeping well?"
"I'm fine."
"Hmm." He tilted his head. Studied her the way a doctor studies an X-ray—searching for what's broken beneath the surface. "Last time I mentioned, remember? Negative energy. It's still there. I can see it in your face."
Devika crossed her arms. "I don't believe in all that, Rajendran uncle."
"Belief is not required, amma. Only observation." He stepped closer. His voice dropped to that confidential priest whisper—the one meant for confessions and holy secrets. "A young married woman, alone most of the time, husband always working. The body accumulates... disturbances. Unfulfilled energy. It manifests as restlessness. Anger. Tears for no reason."
She flinched. How did he—
"The purification ritual I mentioned. Very simple. Very private. Just some mantras, some holy water, some touch points on the body where energy gets blocked." His eyes dropped to her navel—covered by the saree, but he stared at the fabric as if it were glass. "Especially here. The manipura chakra. Where desire accumulates."
"I said no."
"Of course, of course." He smiled. Those crooked yellow teeth. "Just a suggestion, amma. The temple is always open. I am always available. Even at night, if you need privacy. No one will know."
He pressed vibhuti into her palm. His rough fingers lingered on her skin a beat too long.
She pulled away. Left the temple without looking back.
Back in the flat, she called Kulkarni. It rang six times and went to voicemail. She tried again. Same result.
She messaged him: Kaka, how are you? How is everything there? When are you coming back?
His reply came two hours later: Everything okay. Funeral tomorrow. Will take time.
She typed: I miss your chai.
He replied: Ha ha. Make your own, beta.
That was it. No flirtation. No heat. No hidden meaning beneath the words. Just a distracted old man dealing with death.
She put the phone down. Picked it up. Put it down again.
He doesn't care. He got what he wanted and now he's gone.
The thought was unfair and she knew it. His cousin's wife had died. He was grieving. This wasn't about her.
But the selfish, newly-awakened creature inside her didn't care about fairness. It cared about fullness. About being touched. About that specific pressure of a thick cock splitting her open while rough hands held her down.
She closed her eyes. And without meaning to, her mind drifted to Rajendran.
The way he'd looked at her navel. The way his rough fingers had lingered on her palm. The way he always found excuses to stand close—adjusting her kumkum, pressing prasadam into her hands, guiding her shoulders during prayer.
He wants me.
The realization wasn't new. She'd known since the first week—felt his eyes tracking her body every time she entered the temple, registered the way his breathing changed when she bent to touch his feet in respect. She'd hated it. Found it creepy. Avoided him whenever possible.
But now.
Now she lay on her bed with her thighs pressed together and her pulse hammering and her mind painting pictures she'd never allowed before.
His hands are so big. Those long fingers. Rough from years of ringing temple bells. What would they feel like on my waist? Inside me?
She rolled onto her stomach. Pressed her face into the pillow.
The purification ritual. Touch points on the body. At night. No one will know.
Wetness pooled between her thighs. Hot. Immediate. Shameful.
I hate him. He's creepy. He smelled his fingers after touching my waist that one time. He's disgusting.
Her hips ground against the mattress. Slow. Involuntary.
But Kulkarni is gone. And Arjun won't touch me. And I'm so empty. So hungry. So—
She pressed her face harder into the pillow. Her body rocked against the bed—a slow, shameful rhythm she couldn't stop.
Rajendran's eyes on my navel. His breath when I bend down. The way he said "even at night." The way he knew I was crying. Knew I was restless. Knew my body was accumulating unfulfilled energy.
Her hand slid under her belly. Under the saree. Found herself swollen and slick.
What if I said yes? What if I went to his quarters after dark? What if those big rough hands pulled my saree down and his mouth—
A moan escaped into the pillow. Small. Desperate.
She didn't stop this time.
She went early—before the crowd, before the heat. Dressed in a simple white saree with gold border. Hair in a bun. Fresh jasmine. Minimal kajal.
The temple was cool and quiet. Incense hung in the air like trapped ghosts. She knelt before the deity, closed her eyes, folded her hands.
Forgive me. I don't know what I've become. I don't know how to stop.
"Devika amma?"
Her eyes snapped open.
Rajendran stood three feet away. White dhoti, angavastram dbangd over one shoulder, the thick red kumkum mark splitting his forehead. His long fingers held a brass plate of vibhuti.
"Good morning, amma. Early today?"
"Yes." She stood. Took a step back. Instinct. "Just wanted some quiet."
His small sharp eyes moved over her face. Lingered on her throat—where the faintest shadow of Kulkarni's love bite still remained under her foundation.
"You look tired, amma. Not sleeping well?"
"I'm fine."
"Hmm." He tilted his head. Studied her the way a doctor studies an X-ray—searching for what's broken beneath the surface. "Last time I mentioned, remember? Negative energy. It's still there. I can see it in your face."
Devika crossed her arms. "I don't believe in all that, Rajendran uncle."
"Belief is not required, amma. Only observation." He stepped closer. His voice dropped to that confidential priest whisper—the one meant for confessions and holy secrets. "A young married woman, alone most of the time, husband always working. The body accumulates... disturbances. Unfulfilled energy. It manifests as restlessness. Anger. Tears for no reason."
She flinched. How did he—
"The purification ritual I mentioned. Very simple. Very private. Just some mantras, some holy water, some touch points on the body where energy gets blocked." His eyes dropped to her navel—covered by the saree, but he stared at the fabric as if it were glass. "Especially here. The manipura chakra. Where desire accumulates."
"I said no."
"Of course, of course." He smiled. Those crooked yellow teeth. "Just a suggestion, amma. The temple is always open. I am always available. Even at night, if you need privacy. No one will know."
He pressed vibhuti into her palm. His rough fingers lingered on her skin a beat too long.
She pulled away. Left the temple without looking back.
Back in the flat, she called Kulkarni. It rang six times and went to voicemail. She tried again. Same result.
She messaged him: Kaka, how are you? How is everything there? When are you coming back?
His reply came two hours later: Everything okay. Funeral tomorrow. Will take time.
She typed: I miss your chai.
He replied: Ha ha. Make your own, beta.
That was it. No flirtation. No heat. No hidden meaning beneath the words. Just a distracted old man dealing with death.
She put the phone down. Picked it up. Put it down again.
He doesn't care. He got what he wanted and now he's gone.
The thought was unfair and she knew it. His cousin's wife had died. He was grieving. This wasn't about her.
But the selfish, newly-awakened creature inside her didn't care about fairness. It cared about fullness. About being touched. About that specific pressure of a thick cock splitting her open while rough hands held her down.
She closed her eyes. And without meaning to, her mind drifted to Rajendran.
The way he'd looked at her navel. The way his rough fingers had lingered on her palm. The way he always found excuses to stand close—adjusting her kumkum, pressing prasadam into her hands, guiding her shoulders during prayer.
He wants me.
The realization wasn't new. She'd known since the first week—felt his eyes tracking her body every time she entered the temple, registered the way his breathing changed when she bent to touch his feet in respect. She'd hated it. Found it creepy. Avoided him whenever possible.
But now.
Now she lay on her bed with her thighs pressed together and her pulse hammering and her mind painting pictures she'd never allowed before.
His hands are so big. Those long fingers. Rough from years of ringing temple bells. What would they feel like on my waist? Inside me?
She rolled onto her stomach. Pressed her face into the pillow.
The purification ritual. Touch points on the body. At night. No one will know.
Wetness pooled between her thighs. Hot. Immediate. Shameful.
I hate him. He's creepy. He smelled his fingers after touching my waist that one time. He's disgusting.
Her hips ground against the mattress. Slow. Involuntary.
But Kulkarni is gone. And Arjun won't touch me. And I'm so empty. So hungry. So—
She pressed her face harder into the pillow. Her body rocked against the bed—a slow, shameful rhythm she couldn't stop.
Rajendran's eyes on my navel. His breath when I bend down. The way he said "even at night." The way he knew I was crying. Knew I was restless. Knew my body was accumulating unfulfilled energy.
Her hand slid under her belly. Under the saree. Found herself swollen and slick.
What if I said yes? What if I went to his quarters after dark? What if those big rough hands pulled my saree down and his mouth—
A moan escaped into the pillow. Small. Desperate.
She didn't stop this time.
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