04-10-2026, 08:43 PM
“Baba, you’re just boasting now. C’mon. A hundred pushups at your age? Aren’t you 60 years old?” I said dismissively.
“I am not boasting. I will prove it to you right now,” he replied in a challenging tone.
“I am right here Baba.” I replied.
“How about a bet? If I can do a hundred pushups, then I win,” he challenged.
“Okay… I accept,” I replied playfully.
Baba handed me the towel and stood in the middle of the garden, a few feet away from me. He then got on his hands and feet in the pushup position.
“Keep a count,” he said, looking at me.
I nodded. “One… two… three…” I started counting. He started really strong. Going up and down quickly. “Twenty one… twenty two… twenty three…” I kept counting as he kept doing pushups.
The loincloth was wet with sweat and sticking to his butt. It was white, and I could clearly see through. His muscular back flexed with each rise and fall.
“Forty Eight… Forty Nine… Fifty…” I counted.
He suddenly stopped, still crouching over. He looked at me and said, “This is where your husband stops. Now watch me.” Then he winked.
I bit my lips in embarrassment as I watched him go back to work.
“Seventy seven… Seventy eight…” I kept counting, and the man showed no signs of stopping, just maintaining a steady pace.
“Ninety… ninety one… ninety two… C’mon Baba… just eight more…” I started rooting for him. Even if he stopped now, I would concede. It was clearly a very impressive feat for a sixty-year-old.
“Ninety nine… Hundred…” I counted the last push up.
He stopped and kneeled, raising his hands in victory. I also raised my hands and clapped, very impressed.
“I won… I told you this ‘old man’ still got it,” he said cockily.
“Okay, okay… I accept defeat… Now… what do I have to do?” I asked between the laughs.
“Well…” he said as he got up and started drying his body with a towel. What I immediately noticed was that he was not out of breath, not even close. “How about you apply oil to my body right now? I will go for a bath. Usually Suman does it, but today she’s not here,” he said. Application of oil to the body is a common practice in India where the weather can be dry and hot. Oil keeps the skin lubricated and soft.
“Uhhh… you want me to apply oil to your body right now?” I asked.
“Yeah… right here… Suman does it every day,” He replied, plainly.
“Baba… but here in the garden, someone might see us.” I replied with a bit of hesitation and embarrassment.
“Aaah… then that’s not a problem. We can do it in the bathroom. That way, I can have a bath immediately after,” he said as he climbed up the stairs and stood next to me.
“C’mon…” he patted my shoulder and went inside.
“I am not boasting. I will prove it to you right now,” he replied in a challenging tone.
“I am right here Baba.” I replied.
“How about a bet? If I can do a hundred pushups, then I win,” he challenged.
“Okay… I accept,” I replied playfully.
Baba handed me the towel and stood in the middle of the garden, a few feet away from me. He then got on his hands and feet in the pushup position.
“Keep a count,” he said, looking at me.
I nodded. “One… two… three…” I started counting. He started really strong. Going up and down quickly. “Twenty one… twenty two… twenty three…” I kept counting as he kept doing pushups.
The loincloth was wet with sweat and sticking to his butt. It was white, and I could clearly see through. His muscular back flexed with each rise and fall.
“Forty Eight… Forty Nine… Fifty…” I counted.
He suddenly stopped, still crouching over. He looked at me and said, “This is where your husband stops. Now watch me.” Then he winked.
I bit my lips in embarrassment as I watched him go back to work.
“Seventy seven… Seventy eight…” I kept counting, and the man showed no signs of stopping, just maintaining a steady pace.
“Ninety… ninety one… ninety two… C’mon Baba… just eight more…” I started rooting for him. Even if he stopped now, I would concede. It was clearly a very impressive feat for a sixty-year-old.
“Ninety nine… Hundred…” I counted the last push up.
He stopped and kneeled, raising his hands in victory. I also raised my hands and clapped, very impressed.
“I won… I told you this ‘old man’ still got it,” he said cockily.
“Okay, okay… I accept defeat… Now… what do I have to do?” I asked between the laughs.
“Well…” he said as he got up and started drying his body with a towel. What I immediately noticed was that he was not out of breath, not even close. “How about you apply oil to my body right now? I will go for a bath. Usually Suman does it, but today she’s not here,” he said. Application of oil to the body is a common practice in India where the weather can be dry and hot. Oil keeps the skin lubricated and soft.
“Uhhh… you want me to apply oil to your body right now?” I asked.
“Yeah… right here… Suman does it every day,” He replied, plainly.
“Baba… but here in the garden, someone might see us.” I replied with a bit of hesitation and embarrassment.
“Aaah… then that’s not a problem. We can do it in the bathroom. That way, I can have a bath immediately after,” he said as he climbed up the stairs and stood next to me.
“C’mon…” he patted my shoulder and went inside.
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