Benign Flame: Saga of Love, BS Murthy [rainbow fish read aloud txt] 📗

on drawing water from the well in bucketfuls, she was charmed watching the contractions of his shapely biceps.

“Would you please soap my back,” he said invitingly.

“All through you behaved like a gentleman I thought, but now you’re showing your naughty side,” she said mischievously.

‘In other words, you were afraid all along that the burden of initiative should’ve landed in your lap. But with the driver around, I had no way but to steer clear of your captivating curves,” he said pulling her nearer to him.

 ‘I never thought that you’re such a shameless character,” she said turning coy.

“Should a groom turn shy at the threshold, then his bride would’ve to bear the burden of shame” he said in all smiles, “I’m privy to the fact that a cousin of mine didn’t stir in the nuptial bed as though he was in meditation. Finding him tepid to her eager charms, crossing her fingers, his bride felt him at the right place! As you could guess, that did the trick for the rest of the night and ever after.”

Without further fuss, hitching her sari and tucking it, she obliged him.

“I love a little more pressure later,” he said as he winked at her, enjoying the sense of her touch in the slippery medium.

“You seem to be quite experienced at that,” she said tauntingly.

“Can’t that be imaged even without going through that?” he said tentatively.

After his bath, having filled the well-side tub for her use, he retreated to the bed as agreed and waited in anticipation, but she started her bath with her clothes on. Crying foul, he rushed to the well and pulled at her sari, leaving her in her blouse and the petticoat. When his attack was directed at her midriff to untie the ribbon, she agreed to obey and sent him away.

As she began bathing with her back to him, he goaded her to be more open, and as she relented, seeing her myriad movements in nude, he felt as though some romantic poetry acquired her form. When she stepped out wrapped in her bathrobe, he nestled her from behind eagerly and whispered in her ears endearingly, “you look sex fresh,” and as she blushed to her roots, he went on showering her shoulders with warm kisses.

By the time they arrived for dinner, he in his white pajamas and karat and she in her light green cotton sari and a black blouse, the hostess was all set to serve them some spicy dishes. Being hungry, and egged on by the aroma of the preparations, the eager couple ate well to Narasamma’s visceral satisfaction.

After dinner, Narasamma adorned Sandhya’s forehead with kokum and gave her a white voile sari with gold border and said,

“Wives should wear a white sari for the nights as there is none like it to lend appeal to the feminine frame for the male eye as in it lies how much to reveal and what to veil off a woman’s bearing. So, it’s sari that symbolizes the seductive dressing and not that tent called the nighttime for it fails to move their men.”

When the fresh pair left, soon after, the old couple began to reminisce their own sweet times, and as it dawned on them that they forgot to place ‘milk and sweets’ near the nuptial bed for rejuvenation of the just weds, they sent them post-haste with a farmhand.

Soon, laid on the high-rise cot in the courtyard, Raja Rao was impatient for his bride’s arrival and as Sandhya, clad in that white sari, stepped out into the moonlight, he felt as though she were an angel that had descended from the heavens. However, as she neared him, even as his pulse increased, her pace slowed down, and finding her coy to climb up the bed, he clenched her waist to catapult her onto the cot. While she landed herself in his ardent embrace, even as her sari went askance, exposing her shapely legs and baring her alluring blouse, anticipating an ambush, her heartbeat has galloped. What with her breasts heaving heavily, as if to invite him to steady her impulse, when she felt the pressure of his hands on them, she realized that she was in the realms of masculinity. When he began feeling the softness of her belly, she felt fascinated by the firmness of his touch, and as his hands probed the contours of her bottom, she found herself rollicking in anticipation.

In time, as he turned her naked, she dropped her eyes, for she felt shy to espy herself in his presence but when she sensed that he was nude as well, she stole a glance to gauge the measure of his manhood. When he held her firmly against his hairy chest, her breasts had their first brush with maleness, and as he sought for her lips eagerly, she provided them readily for their mutual satiation. Soon, having conquered her heart with his love, he stooped to her feet in passion only to find his way back in time to it on her silken slopes with the labial support. However, having reached her midriff, he rested his head for a while on its slab, but signaled by its spasms, as he changed the direction of his ardour and lent his lips to her labium, she moaned at his labial nuances though as a prelude to guiding him to enter into her well of love. And as his manhood reached the threshold of her maidenhood, her womanhood connived with him to contrive its crossing. Thus, on their way to orgasm, they experienced the ecstasy of their nuptial union brought about by the feeling of lovemaking.

Then fondling his back, as he lay on her in exhaustion, she felt life was worth living if only for that one moment. Seeing he was fulfilled as well, she felt gratified for being the source of his fulfillment, and her own satiation, occasioned by his passion, made him even more endearing to her loving heart. Holding hands in unison, wondering about nature’s ingenuity in conceiving sexual gratification as a means of human fulfillment, they gazed towards the skies, as though to thank the stars for their union. Soon, however, Sandhya couldn’t help but think about her intimacy with Roopa and felt, ‘true our lesbianism entwines our bodies and delights our minds, but in his coition it’s as if his body got fused with mine to our heart’s content.’

Before exhaustion overpowered their youthful exuberance in their nuptial bed and as sleep overtook their adoring gaze, the moon was on its westward descent, but as though it got inkling from its fairer partner on the horizon, the sun lay in wait to catch a glimpse of the nuptial bride in her exhausted sleep. However, as though influenced by his possessive instinct, Raja Rao woke up at dawn to catch the peeping tom in its act, and then turning to Sandhya, who slept spread-eagled, he felt that she looked incredibly splendid. After being deflowered, it seemed as if she flowered overnight to resemble the bedside roses, and seeing her thus in the nascent sunlight, he surged to have more of her fresh youth; and as he pressed against her ardently, she woke up to his ardour to match him amorously.

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When it was time for breakfast, Raja Rao and Sandhya went hand in hand to Thimmaiah’s place to be greeted by Narasamma’s steamy idlis and spicy chutneys, and having savored those, they set out for sight-seeing.

Thy sauntered in the paddy fields and roamed about the mango groves until Sandhya became sore footed to go any farther, and ignoring her coy protests, he carried her in his arms, inducing her to cling on to him cosily. But once they reached their coconut plantation, she jumped to the ground as though to view the setting in its proper form. Their kapu, so as to sweeten their palates and fill their bellies, fetched a couple of ganga bondālu, and a rejuvenated Sandhya then accompanied Raja Rao to pray at the nearby darga of the legendary Vali Baba, who, it was said, walked on the rivers and wasn’t wetted by the rainwater.

Returning to the Thimmaiahs for lunch, they stayed back for gossip lest their hosts should feel that they were treated as mere innkeepers. Thimmaiah poured out the problems agriculture posed, and was pleased at having a person for an audience who didn’t have ideas to differ with his own. Narasamma, however, tried to interest Sandhya with a game of dice and shells. After drubbing the bride half a dozen times, Narasamma switched over to the sport of tamarind seeds. She spread a few score of them at random on the floor at arm length. Then she tossed one up and picked up another from the spread before catching the former mid air. As the play progressed, she increased the number of pickings from the spread and yet didn’t let the freshly tossed-up one slip through her guard. Sandhya, who watched in wonderment, made a mess of it when it was her turn to try her hand.

When it was time for tea, Sandhya offered to serve them, and savoring her sweetened preparation, Thimmaiah complimented her,

“‘You seem to be one up on my old woman.”

“Honestly, I want to be her apprentice,” said Sandhya earnestly.

“I’m glad you realize that cooking is an art though these days it’s being treated as a machine craft,” Narasamma said. “Pressures of the times have brought in pressure cookers, and it’s lost on the housewife that as nature takes its own time to deliver, cooking too needs time to impart taste to the food. And if you pressure it to deliver, either way, it’s going to be a premature issue. Now it has become fashionable to talk in terms of the recipes though they’re no more than the same garam masala with different brand names. Won’t one lose the unique taste of the vegetables, the gravy being the same in every curry? Cooking seems to have fallen into the hands of the barbarians, and the family members too don’t seem to mind any more. So be it but I’ll give you some useful tips before you leave.”

“I would grab them with both hands,” said Sandhya earnestly.

“Then would be able to serve your man better,” said Narasamma and added as an afterthought,

“Are you planning to visit some temples?”

“Know they’re not on a pilgrimage,” said the old man jokingly.

“Jokes apart, I’m keen on praying at a couple of temples,” said Sandhya.

“Raja, better you spend a night or two in a houseboat on Vasishta and that would be like icing on your honey,” suggested Thimmaiah.  

“That’s only when Sandhya gets over her water phobia,” said Raja Rao.

“Then take her to Vodalarevu where the Gowthami makes a ‘T’ with the Bay of Bengal, it’s a sight to see,” said Thimmaiah.

“I love to witness that, who knows, in time I might be a game even for a houseboat,” said Sandhya in excitement.

“I feel Ryali is a must visit, if only to envision the sculptured fusion of Vishnu’s front with Mohini’s back in that saligrama,” said Raja Rao to Narasamma’s delight

“God bless you people,” said Narasamma, seemingly blessing them herself. ‘It helps to place trust in God.’

“Times have changed,” said Thimmaiah. “Nowadays, it’s as though men are guided merely by religiosity and not by any religiousness. Naro narayana, man is God, that’s what our sastras preach, implying that you only reach Him through the service to humanity. But, today man seems to believe he no longer needs to serve man to please the Gods. In this jet age of non-stop flights, man seems to think he can hop to heaven with a few trips to the hallowed shrines on earth. These days no one prays to God for peace of mind; it’s his prosperity that’s at the back of his mind. Boon seeking has become the bane of the religious spirit. The more one is moved by his motive, all the more the fervency in his prayer increases. It’s as if the fellow-beings