This is absolutely a piece of LOVE FICTION and names used are completely fictional and do not represent any person.....
PROLOGUE
Once upon a time in wonderland named ‘Love-dale’ lived an average looking metro-sexual man named Adam and a voluptuous very good- looking woman called Eve. They had never met before, but the moment they met they fell…FELL in for the most sort after emotion called LOVE. It was almost disaster at the first sight. They were attracted to each other as if they were two unlike poles of a magnet, they met and met again, inseparable, entwined they made it made it to each other's core. She blushed and he blushed even more they were blissfully unaware what was to follow…
Adam decided to write a BLOG about LOVE... for which he started an online interactive group.... LINGERING OCEANS VIA EMOTIONS
Here are some excerpts from his blog.....
~Chapisode 11~
Smita, on our wedding night had given me a book, no ordinary book it was Kamasutra. And we were so excited to read or see together, we packed it into our bags.
In our excitement we forgot our first destination was a religious one and were in for a rude shock. On the train journey which in itself was like a long two day ordeal we had just passed a station when we saw some movement and a lot of activity through the compartment.
What we realized was that there was some routine checking by what appeared to us like railway police.
There were two of them and they randomly picked up bags and shamelessly opened up everything. We comfortably sat chatting with each other till one of the Uniformed man stretched his hand to grab our bag.
Suddenly I remembered I had carried doctors brandy but thought it would not be such a problem. Fortunately he didn’t get that bag. He grabbed the one which had the Kamasutra. It didn’t struck us till he actually took it out from beneath a pile of clothes which we hadn’t intentionally placed as we never thought it to be objectionable.
Smita was embarrassed but argued with the man in authority. My friend took up the whole thing in his hands and told the women to be out of it.
We, me and my friend, went up to the door so that we could negotiate; meanwhile the other fellow too joined his officer and took away the book from his hand.
While the wind blew through the open door of the second class compartment and my friend tried arbitrator I stood there like a spectator knowing it was going to be really bad.
The difficult task was to explain an elderly couple who was at our neighboring berth and even more difficult task was to make Smita understand that we were down by two thousand bucks and that her wedding night gift now lied with a bunch of men who would never ever have afforded it nor afford to understand the depth of the content.
But then Smita is Smita, she was very upset initially and surely believed there was nothing wrong for a married couple to carry such a book, she thought we weren’t some under age college boys and girls who could not be allowed such liberties but perfectly matured individuals who should have the freedom of carrying any such book.
Karan's words sounded more like a philosophy professor lecturing a bunch of non interesting adults instead of a lover besotted by the charm of his lady love on his honeymoon.
But then finally he came back on much meatier subject than philosophy.
After the religious destination next halt was at Dalhousie where my dear friend had booked two rooms in a property of some Bhatavdekar family. They ran a school of their own and had made some part of their territory turned into a small retreat. There were just nine rooms and were given only to married couples with or without kids. We took the last room which was separated from the corridor which led into the other eight rooms out of which one belonged to our friend couple and the rest of the rooms were empty. Bliss!
Smita removed her gloves and then mine and held my hand and we walked towards one of those wooden shelters. There were a very few locals and a very few other couples who surely wouldn’t mind if we kissed but we just held hands and kept looking intermittently at the snow and each other. I hugged her from behind and she turned and hugged me back. She picked up some snow and placed it onto my hand and said, ‘Happy friendship’s day…be my friend always’.
That evening my friend and I decided to be men. I mean we decided to drink. Not only to prove manly but also to bear up the cold. So we walked up one and half kilometers to a wine shop where we found some lovely apple wine. Yes there in Dalhousie you get wine made of apple.
Meanwhile there the two ladies had already chosen to be women and chatted up till we came back.
My friend decided to play advisor that day. He was married for quite some time now and surely considered himself more experienced than me or maybe just tried to remind me time and again. Out of all his enormous wisdom one thing he said was quite interesting and that was he said, ‘Never ever force it when your wife is not in the mood.’’
Words of wisdom!
Most married men know. I too would have learnt it sooner or later. But that moment I was besotted by my Guru’s words, my friend.
‘Give your wife some time, relax her, and pamper her with a massage or something’.
I wondered; relax her I could, pamper her I already was doing it, but give her a massage in 1˚C temperature that too when cold valley winds were blowing us off. Would it be feasible? While I thought all this to myself my friend continued, ‘Massage always works. Use some oil. Have you carried it or shall I tell Vaishnavi to give it.’
I knew this guy was serious and actually started contemplating the option while we walked back from the wine shop. I was carrying the two bottles of apple wine and a peanut packet, while he walked a little ahead of me with his hands free and all animated and I like a little school kid followed him shaking my head in affirmation to the school teacher.
That night we did nothing of what my coach had told me to but instead we talked. I told Smita of all the things we had discussed on the way. We had a laugh. And she in return told me about the chat she had with my friend’s wife. One bottle of wine was over between the four of us before dinner and one remained with me in my room. We used it. While sipping wine and cozily cuddled into blanket, Smita told me her part of the conversation.
‘Vaishnavi was just back from her bath and was clad in a sari. I was shocked firstly it was very brave of her to have a cold water bath in such cold and secondly it was braver to manage to wear a sari.’ It was not that Smita din’t like saris but 5.00 p.m. in Dalhousie that too when you are going to do nothing but stay back in the room and have wine and dinner, sari for such an occasion even I was surprised.
Next morning I woke up to see that the door of our room was open and early morning rays of sun kissed the floor of our room. I saw a long shadow with smooth movements. It was Smita. Her hands in the shadow moved with unmatched grace. I raised my eyes tracing the end of the shadow where it merged with Smita’s bare foot, her silver payal, the fold of salwar, her crumpled kurta, her duppatta tied at the place where it suited her the most, her two buttons tied and one open, her tiny little mangal sutra, her lips, her eyes and she swayed her body just to seduce the creator himself. I was spell bound but managed to come out of it for what my eyes saw was so beautiful. Nothing could hold me back, not even the spell itself. I held her hand and whispered in her ears, Good Morning teacher! She took the hint and guided me into different mudras of dancing.
Never felt this way for anyone nor will I feel the same for anyone ever.
Smita closed my eyes at the end of it and kissed me on my lips, my cheeks, my forehead and then ruffled my hair; gosh I just melted like that kid in the dance class. I had to break all rules of moral conduct and kiss my teacher back.
I wish my friend was here and was taking pictures I wanted this moment to be captured forever. Instead he was sleeping since he had a bad stomach. The rajma chawal in the night had done the harm. Or maybe my curse!
~Chapisode 11~
VOYAGE NO.5
Karan Agarwal was eager to share his
escapade.
Smita is a very religious person so we decided to make a religious
trip first and then from there to Dalhousie.
Fortunately or unfortunately we were accompanied by one of my colleague and his wife. They too were on their honeymoon, difference being that theirs was a second one. They already had a kid and probably they were on their desire for another.
Fortunately or unfortunately we were accompanied by one of my colleague and his wife. They too were on their honeymoon, difference being that theirs was a second one. They already had a kid and probably they were on their desire for another.
I always felt it was better
to be with someone else on a honeymoon that too to such far off destination. I
was absolutely wrong!
Smita, on our wedding night had given me a book, no ordinary book it was Kamasutra. And we were so excited to read or see together, we packed it into our bags.
In our excitement we forgot our first destination was a religious one and were in for a rude shock. On the train journey which in itself was like a long two day ordeal we had just passed a station when we saw some movement and a lot of activity through the compartment.
What we realized was that there was some routine checking by what appeared to us like railway police.
There were two of them and they randomly picked up bags and shamelessly opened up everything. We comfortably sat chatting with each other till one of the Uniformed man stretched his hand to grab our bag.
Suddenly I remembered I had carried doctors brandy but thought it would not be such a problem. Fortunately he didn’t get that bag. He grabbed the one which had the Kamasutra. It didn’t struck us till he actually took it out from beneath a pile of clothes which we hadn’t intentionally placed as we never thought it to be objectionable.
Smita was embarrassed but argued with the man in authority. My friend took up the whole thing in his hands and told the women to be out of it.
We, me and my friend, went up to the door so that we could negotiate; meanwhile the other fellow too joined his officer and took away the book from his hand.
While the wind blew through the open door of the second class compartment and my friend tried arbitrator I stood there like a spectator knowing it was going to be really bad.
Meanwhile the guy with the book flipped
pages, his eyes fixed and flashed at the same time probably he never would have
seen such literature or maybe was shocked with disbelief. It was a sight, he
almost saw each and every page and sometimes even turned back to see some again.
I realized he didn’t have the caliber or the eye to understand what he saw.
My friend turned to me and very comfortably signaled me two fingers I was O.K. with it and gave my affirmation to the moral brigade by handing over hundred rupee two notes. The man was amazed and thought I was teasing him, it annoyed him. He asked us to get down at the next station and settle it there.
We, me and my friend, were scared now.
My friend turned to me and very comfortably signaled me two fingers I was O.K. with it and gave my affirmation to the moral brigade by handing over hundred rupee two notes. The man was amazed and thought I was teasing him, it annoyed him. He asked us to get down at the next station and settle it there.
We, me and my friend, were scared now.
I said what was it that he wanted, that’s when he told
me that my friend had agreed for two thousand and not two hundred since they
were in all seven personnel on the train. I had no choice my friend had done
such a great job I hardly had any choice I removed another bunch of notes from
my inner pocket in the pant and put it in his palm.
When suddenly the personnel with the book spit out his paan into the basin behind me and said that they had to keep the book with them otherwise it would cause us more trouble ahead.
When suddenly the personnel with the book spit out his paan into the basin behind me and said that they had to keep the book with them otherwise it would cause us more trouble ahead.
I
should have known his intentions when he ogled at the volume. They walked past
us without any hesitation, one with two thousand rupees and other with the tome.
While I just looked at my friend cursing him for what he had done but never
voiced it and he even had the courage to voice it, ‘See how easy that was’.
The difficult task was to explain an elderly couple who was at our neighboring berth and even more difficult task was to make Smita understand that we were down by two thousand bucks and that her wedding night gift now lied with a bunch of men who would never ever have afforded it nor afford to understand the depth of the content.
But then Smita is Smita, she was very upset initially and surely believed there was nothing wrong for a married couple to carry such a book, she thought we weren’t some under age college boys and girls who could not be allowed such liberties but perfectly matured individuals who should have the freedom of carrying any such book.
The only thing wrong probably was to be
in a country where cheap pornography was sold on roads for cheaper prices and
such literature derived actually from ancient knowledge of the same country was
taboo or maybe it was wrong to just travel by train where you could bribe the
man in charge and get yourself a berth
or maybe it was wrong to just give in to demands and maybe decide to get
down on the next station or maybe just don’t go for a honeymoon with fellow
married man who would flaunt their experience in almost everything and that too
at your expense.
Karan's words sounded more like a philosophy professor lecturing a bunch of non interesting adults instead of a lover besotted by the charm of his lady love on his honeymoon.
But then finally he came back on much meatier subject than philosophy.
After the religious destination next halt was at Dalhousie where my dear friend had booked two rooms in a property of some Bhatavdekar family. They ran a school of their own and had made some part of their territory turned into a small retreat. There were just nine rooms and were given only to married couples with or without kids. We took the last room which was separated from the corridor which led into the other eight rooms out of which one belonged to our friend couple and the rest of the rooms were empty. Bliss!
Open the window and you see snow covered peaks, you hardly
bother to know or ask what ranges were they. My friend’s room did not have the
same view and from all the things I had started hating him for, one more was
that he kept clicking pictures of his wife, then sometimes me and Smita and
then insisted that I take their pictures too. The moment he saw the view of
those snow covered peaks he went berserk and started clicking pictures as if next
day the peaks were going to melt forever.
The next day it snowed at Lakadmandi.
Neither Smita nor I had ever seen snow so we had to be there. As we approached
the place in a Van, we saw the first glimpse of snow. We actually were entering
from a rocky barren terrain into a blanket of snow. We reached Lakadmandi and
like kids started playing with snow.
My friend couldn’t click pictures as his camera batteries were down due to the sudden fall in temperature. Thankfully!
My friend couldn’t click pictures as his camera batteries were down due to the sudden fall in temperature. Thankfully!
Smita removed her gloves and then mine and held my hand and we walked towards one of those wooden shelters. There were a very few locals and a very few other couples who surely wouldn’t mind if we kissed but we just held hands and kept looking intermittently at the snow and each other. I hugged her from behind and she turned and hugged me back. She picked up some snow and placed it onto my hand and said, ‘Happy friendship’s day…be my friend always’.
Meanwhile my
friend’s wife was sipping tea at the nearby stall and my dearest friend was
rubbing his hands not to get some warmth but to warm up the batteries of his
camera.
That evening my friend and I decided to be men. I mean we decided to drink. Not only to prove manly but also to bear up the cold. So we walked up one and half kilometers to a wine shop where we found some lovely apple wine. Yes there in Dalhousie you get wine made of apple.
Meanwhile there the two ladies had already chosen to be women and chatted up till we came back.
My friend decided to play advisor that day. He was married for quite some time now and surely considered himself more experienced than me or maybe just tried to remind me time and again. Out of all his enormous wisdom one thing he said was quite interesting and that was he said, ‘Never ever force it when your wife is not in the mood.’’
Words of wisdom!
Most married men know. I too would have learnt it sooner or later. But that moment I was besotted by my Guru’s words, my friend.
‘Give your wife some time, relax her, and pamper her with a massage or something’.
I wondered; relax her I could, pamper her I already was doing it, but give her a massage in 1˚C temperature that too when cold valley winds were blowing us off. Would it be feasible? While I thought all this to myself my friend continued, ‘Massage always works. Use some oil. Have you carried it or shall I tell Vaishnavi to give it.’
I knew this guy was serious and actually started contemplating the option while we walked back from the wine shop. I was carrying the two bottles of apple wine and a peanut packet, while he walked a little ahead of me with his hands free and all animated and I like a little school kid followed him shaking my head in affirmation to the school teacher.
‘Massage her tonight and then go for a hot
water bath together and see how things will work out.’ The Guru spoke.
Is he in some kind of fantasy world, I thought to myself; as Mrs. Bhatavdekar had clearly told us on the first day itself that hot water would be provided only in the morning, but I continued nodding my head almost starting to believe like I was his disciple.
‘Massage her gently don’t use too much of a force. Women are delicate. Treat them that way.’
I thought to myself if I do not commit to him that I am surely going to try his inventive idea he would make sure I do it. I vividly imagined him instructing me while I practically did it. I smiled and just ignored whatever he said after that. Thankfully it was just one and half kilometers.
At the end of our informative journey my newly discovered teacher told me the last words of wisdom; ‘Make it tonight. I am surely going to.’
I finally opened my mouth in haste and convinced him, ‘I too!'
Is he in some kind of fantasy world, I thought to myself; as Mrs. Bhatavdekar had clearly told us on the first day itself that hot water would be provided only in the morning, but I continued nodding my head almost starting to believe like I was his disciple.
‘Massage her gently don’t use too much of a force. Women are delicate. Treat them that way.’
I thought to myself if I do not commit to him that I am surely going to try his inventive idea he would make sure I do it. I vividly imagined him instructing me while I practically did it. I smiled and just ignored whatever he said after that. Thankfully it was just one and half kilometers.
At the end of our informative journey my newly discovered teacher told me the last words of wisdom; ‘Make it tonight. I am surely going to.’
I finally opened my mouth in haste and convinced him, ‘I too!'
That night we did nothing of what my coach had told me to but instead we talked. I told Smita of all the things we had discussed on the way. We had a laugh. And she in return told me about the chat she had with my friend’s wife. One bottle of wine was over between the four of us before dinner and one remained with me in my room. We used it. While sipping wine and cozily cuddled into blanket, Smita told me her part of the conversation.
‘Vaishnavi was just back from her bath and was clad in a sari. I was shocked firstly it was very brave of her to have a cold water bath in such cold and secondly it was braver to manage to wear a sari.’ It was not that Smita din’t like saris but 5.00 p.m. in Dalhousie that too when you are going to do nothing but stay back in the room and have wine and dinner, sari for such an occasion even I was surprised.
Smita continued, ‘She was drying her hair
while she noticed my amazement probably on my face. She explained it was the sari
given to her by her mother-in-law on their first honeymoon. She shocked me
further by directly asking me if we had done it on our first night or not. I
said shyly just a monosyllable "NO!"
She pounced on that and said, "It’s just a myth! These men just talk of killing the cat on the first night, they themselves become wet cats.' Vaishnavi had this beautiful habit of literally translating Hindi proverbs into English. People who would have not known her would not make any sense of what she spoke.
She pounced on that and said, "It’s just a myth! These men just talk of killing the cat on the first night, they themselves become wet cats.' Vaishnavi had this beautiful habit of literally translating Hindi proverbs into English. People who would have not known her would not make any sense of what she spoke.
"We women have to guide them, take proper steps, learn the art ourselves or live dissatisfied forever."
Another teacher in the making!
"At times when it is forced upon us we need to put our foot down and tell them no. It’s painful you know."
How could I know, I had never known! I murmured while Vaishnavi continued, "Never let him touch you when you are not in the mood, it would be really painful when you are not willing.’
The word painful had never sounded so painful. "Give in only when you want to. Than too use some lubrication or else… Painful! "
I haven’t heard that word for so many times in a single conversation all my life.' Smita told me as she hugged me like a little baby.
‘Is it really painful?’
I too had never heard it before so many times nor known it. 'The only way to know that would be to try it'. I said, realising immediately that it was absolutely the wrong timing. She pulled herself away from me and drank the entire leftover wine in the glass. Wished me goodnight and escaped into the blanket. I vowed never to ask her for it when she was not in the mood and never ever to go for honeymoon with an experienced married couple.
I had the mind to just get into their room and check were they doing anything at all. But I thought it rather painful to make so much effort as I knew in any case I would hear it from the horse’s mouth.
'Goodnight!'
I hugged the pillow and slept. The entire conversation, that evening was so exhausting that I fell asleep as I struck on the bed.
Another teacher in the making!
"At times when it is forced upon us we need to put our foot down and tell them no. It’s painful you know."
How could I know, I had never known! I murmured while Vaishnavi continued, "Never let him touch you when you are not in the mood, it would be really painful when you are not willing.’
The word painful had never sounded so painful. "Give in only when you want to. Than too use some lubrication or else… Painful! "
I haven’t heard that word for so many times in a single conversation all my life.' Smita told me as she hugged me like a little baby.
‘Is it really painful?’
I too had never heard it before so many times nor known it. 'The only way to know that would be to try it'. I said, realising immediately that it was absolutely the wrong timing. She pulled herself away from me and drank the entire leftover wine in the glass. Wished me goodnight and escaped into the blanket. I vowed never to ask her for it when she was not in the mood and never ever to go for honeymoon with an experienced married couple.
I had the mind to just get into their room and check were they doing anything at all. But I thought it rather painful to make so much effort as I knew in any case I would hear it from the horse’s mouth.
'Goodnight!'
I hugged the pillow and slept. The entire conversation, that evening was so exhausting that I fell asleep as I struck on the bed.
Next morning I woke up to see that the door of our room was open and early morning rays of sun kissed the floor of our room. I saw a long shadow with smooth movements. It was Smita. Her hands in the shadow moved with unmatched grace. I raised my eyes tracing the end of the shadow where it merged with Smita’s bare foot, her silver payal, the fold of salwar, her crumpled kurta, her duppatta tied at the place where it suited her the most, her two buttons tied and one open, her tiny little mangal sutra, her lips, her eyes and she swayed her body just to seduce the creator himself. I was spell bound but managed to come out of it for what my eyes saw was so beautiful. Nothing could hold me back, not even the spell itself. I held her hand and whispered in her ears, Good Morning teacher! She took the hint and guided me into different mudras of dancing.
I had learnt salsa from her, never
tried classical. I wanted to keep learning. She came behind me and took the
position of authority she guided my hands and dance I knew was pleasure and
especially with Smita but that morning it was beyond words.
Her fingers were
tightly clutched into mine our body almost moved as if it was one, the early
morning sun was just nothing close to warm but the warmth actually was between
us, no music played still we moved in rhythm, we were lost in this boundless
feeling of blissful love for dance and each other.
Never felt this way for anyone nor will I feel the same for anyone ever.
Smita closed my eyes at the end of it and kissed me on my lips, my cheeks, my forehead and then ruffled my hair; gosh I just melted like that kid in the dance class. I had to break all rules of moral conduct and kiss my teacher back.
I wish my friend was here and was taking pictures I wanted this moment to be captured forever. Instead he was sleeping since he had a bad stomach. The rajma chawal in the night had done the harm. Or maybe my curse!
Keep Following this Blog for ~Chapisode 12~
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