Hi, I am Ravi.
I was 16 when my parents got divorced. I didn't know whose fault it was. I was no one to judge my parents. But still, like everybody else in our family, I also felt that my father was the one to blame. Because he was leaving his family for another woman. That too, somebody much younger than him.
I missed him. I hated him. I vowed to forget him. I grew up without my father's support. My father had left our city after divorcing my mother. In fact he had left the country too. He took up a job in Singapore. He went there with his new wife. So it was all the more easy for us to forcefully forget him. It is said that ‘out of sight is out of mind’.
My father was a successful corporate manager. When he left us, my father was 40 and my mother was 35 years of age. They were of two diametrically opposite personalities and character. My father was flamboyant, a go-getter and a dynamic management professional. He did everything that was required to get him to the top. Work hard ; party harder ; a lot of clubbing and Golf ; rapport with the right people…that was my father.
My mother on the other hand was a docile housewife; shy of mixing with his father's Company colleagues and friends because of her poor English. She never used to accompany him to his office parties and clubs. On top of that she was extremely devotional. She was more interested in her Puja room and her spiritual Gurus. You might question how they fell in love and got married if they were so different. They didn't fall in love. Their marriage obviously was not in their hands. As it happened in most cases those days, it was an arranged marriage decided by their parents. They were quite young too. My father was 23 years and my mother was only 18 when they got married. I was born in the very first year of their marriage. So my mother got all the more involved deep into her family and maternal duties. Distance with my father increased further, both physical and emotional.
As it happened, my father because of his professional position in the company and his charismatic personality attracted many women. Smart ladies, especially in his Company and professional circuit tried to come close to him, more for their individual career gains and professional objectives. With constant denials from my mother at home, my father obviously fell for some of these ladies. Who wouldn't, when you are emotionally and sexually deprived from your wife.
All these I came to know much later in life when I myself grew up to be an adult. The crux of the matter was that at one stage, my father got horribly involved with his secretary, so much so that this lady got pregnant. Also, to hide the matter, my father forced his secretary to go for an abortion. And this scandal somehow got leaked in the Company and eventually in our family circle.
That blew the top of the lid at home. My docile mother and even my Grandparents of both sides got furious at my father. To save face in the society an immediate divorce was arranged with mutual consent of both my father's and mother's families. My father left the Company and also the country and took up a job in Singapore. That secretary lady had to leave her family too and went with him. We heard later that they got married.
Now twenty years later, all this seems to be a bad dream. I am 36 now and have been able to take on the challenges of life on my own terms.
I had completed my school and college. I was good at studies. I lived and grew up with my mother at her parents’ house. Money was never a problem. We were not rich, but my grandfather had enough to provide for all of us. The handsome alimony which my mother got from my father also helped. I completed my Engineering degree in Computer Science and joined a good IT firm in Bangalore.
My mother is no more. She suffered from cancer and died ten years back at the age of 45 only. She could never actually come out of the shock of the scandal. My grandparents on both sides are also no longer in this world. Old age had caught up with them too.
As for me, I had lost faith with the institution of marriage. The experience of my parents' marital life had taken a toll in my mind which I could never get over with.
But one person haunted me all along - my Stepmother, my father's second wife.
I had first met this lady, Shukla, when she was not yet married to my father. She had joined my father as his secretary in his office. During my school days, I often visited my father at his office after school hours. His office was on the way back from my school to home. So I used to sometimes make a stop over at my father's office. My father used to sit in a big cabin for himself at the corner of the big office floor. His secretary had her seat just outside his cabin. When my father was busy with meetings, his secretary made me sit in front of her desk. She used to order snacks and cold drinks for me from the canteen. She used to chat with me in a very friendly and loving manner. Just normal questions about my school; my hobbies and such. I used to like her then. Shukla was a charming young woman. Not very beautiful in the truest sense of the word. But she had a very handsomely attractive face, with high cheekbones; slightly rounded, slightly oblong face. She was not very fair complexioned. But she was tall, real tall, must be 5’11” at the least; a 6 footer with her heels on; and with a figure to match. She wasn't a model type slim figure, but had a tight, well toned, curvaceous, superbly feminine body. Must have been around 75 kg in weight. She was young too. She was 23, when I first met her; she had mentioned it once during our chats. I calculated that she was only just 8 years older than me. I was in class 10 then, just 15 years of age. When she used to greet me by shaking my hand, I used to feel my muscles tighten down under. My head would barely reach her shoulders, my face in front of her big bosom. My heart would give a small leap. I used to hurriedly sit down in front of her desk, lest the tent in my pants betrayed me. I was small for my age, I still am. Just 5’3” in height and 65 kg in weight even at my present age of 36 years. I was even shorter and smaller back then, when I was in class 10. I don't know why, but tall girls always made my heart flutter and did something inside my underwear. Kuchh kuchh hota thha; and even now, abhi bhi kuchh kuchh hota hai.…
And then that picnic day car ride incident. Forget it yaar ….kyun yaad dila rahe ho ? I don't want to remember all that again .…and brood and sulk.
I think I might have developed a crush for her at that young age of 15-16.
That is why it was more of a shock to me when I learnt that my dad was having an affair with his secretary Shukla. I just couldn't bear the news. I felt cheated. She was the girl who came in my dreams; my day-dreams I mean. I just couldn't understand what she saw in my father, a 40 year old man ?! And she was just 24, when this scandal finally got exposed. My father had an important position in the Company; had authority and influence; had money. But he was no match beside her in looks. My father did not have a great figure. He was of very ordinary height of 5’6” and not at all handsome looking. How could this strapping 6 footer beauty fall for the middle aged man ? I just could not digest this fact.
Greed, I reasoned to myself. It was her lust for money and security, I told myself. Once when she was chatting with me one day, she had told me that she came from a very poor family. Her parents had died early and she was raised by her maternal uncle and aunty; Mama / Mami as we say in our language. They were also poor with many children of their own. So that is why I deduced that this was the reason why this girl decided to have an affair with my father. She went for money and security in her life, which she lacked and longed for since her childhood.
I hated my father all the more for taking away the girl of my dreams. I hated Shukla for depriving me to even dream about her. Because she was now my Stepmother.
All this happened twenty years back. I had gotten over this phase. That crazy adolescent infatuation of a 15-16 year old boy. But I could never find another girl to fall in love with. There were some friends, girls, I mean, during my college days. And later, within my female office colleagues; but I could not find a ‘girlfriend’ in any of them.
I lived all alone, a successful software professional, but still a 36 year old bachelor living with my solitude in my New Delhi flat. I had worked in a few cities in all these years of my professional career. But never really settled down in one place. Started with Bangalore; then Hyderabad; then 3 years on an onsite project in Frankfurt ; then back to India after Covid lockdown; and lastly in Delhi. Although I had earned enough, I never felt like buying a flat for myself. What's the use? I am a rolling stone…
Then that phone call on that fateful Sunday night. I had settled down on my favourite recliner with my mobile in one hand and my favourite Old Monk in the other, when my phone rang. An unknown number.
A lady on the other side said, “Hello ! Is that Ravi ?”
I didn't recognise the voice, “Yes, Ravi speaking. Who is this please ?”
The voice replied, “Did you know that your father is no more ?.…” Then a definite pause...
I couldn't answer immediately. Such unexpected information in such an unusual manner. I repeated, “Who is this?”...almost guessing the reply.
“Your Stepmom, Shukla”, the voice replied.
Silence again…on both sides. Then I said, “When did this happen? And how ??”
She replied in a husky voice, “He was badly down with Covid. He had it twice. Didn't recover the second time. He had other medical complications too. Doctors tried everything. But in vain.”
“And where are you now ? Still in Singapore ?” I asked.
“No, I returned just two weeks back. I am in Chandigarh now. We didn't have your contact number or address. You have blocked us from everywhere, Facebook, WhatsApp. So I couldn't contact you earlier. Your father wanted me to give you some things which he has left with me. I want to hand those over to you. I would be grateful if you could come and visit me once. I am texting you my address. Please let me know when you can come.”
She disconnected without waiting for my reply. How did she get my number ? Couldn't ask her.
I thought about it and decided that I should go. At least he was my biological father. And he is now no more. So there was no point in holding on to my ego.
I texted Shukla, my Stepmother and informed her that I would come the next weekend.
Delhi to Chandigarh distance wasn't much, a little over 3 hours by train. I planned to go on Saturday and return on Sunday. I packed some clothes and my laptop and took the Delhi - Chandigarh Shatabdi express. I planned to stay in a hotel for these two days.
The address given by Shukla was of a small but beautiful bungalow in Sector 33. My heart was pounding as I rang the bell. My brain was working overtime. I would see my adolescent crush after twenty years. I have never accepted Shukla as my stepmother. I argued to myself that she was my father's second wife but not my stepmother. Because when my father married her, my own mother was very much alive. So Shukla is technically not my stepmother.
I was also confused as to the way I should behave with her. She was the reason why my father left us. She was the reason my mother's life plunged into shame and sadness. She was the reason why our family lost face in the society for the unpardonable scandal. And also she was the reason why my adolescent infatuation, albeit one-sided, was shattered.
The door opened. There she was standing in front of me. She looked even more gorgeous now after twenty years. The tall 5’11” figure has added on some more weight. Seemed like she would be around 85 to 90 kg now. Since I'm 36 years old, I mentally estimated her age to be 44 years now. But she wasn't flabby, it was as if a harmonic feminine body sculptured from solid mass, with her assets real big and curvaceous. I just stood there transfixed, looking at Shukla’s big beautiful figure that totally captivated my brain.
Shukla held my hand and pulled me gently inside the room. She shut the door and turned back to face me. We both had not spoken a single word yet. She came closer to me, very close. She put her heavy hands on my shoulders. She broke the ice first, “Ohh my goodness Ravi. You are just the same small and cute little boy I knew 20 years back.”
She took me in her embrace and hugged me tight. With my 5’3” height, my face went right between her big, soft breasts. She hugged me tightly and lovingly. She bent her head down and kissed the top of my head on my hair, a loving motherly kiss.
She kept standing in front of me. Right in front. Almost touching my body. Standing so close to me, with her height of 5’11”, I had to literally bend my head at almost a right angle to look at her eyes from my height of 5’3”.
“Come my dear son, let's go inside.” Looking down at me, there was suddenly a mischievous smile in her eyes. Before I realised what was happening, she stooped, slid one arm under my armpits and around my chest and her other arm, behind my knees, and then she swept me effortlessly up off my feet to hold me tightly against her, cradled securely in her powerful arms.
The suddenness of her actions startled me. I wrapped my arms around her neck for fear of falling down. But her hands were rock solid, holding me up cradled on her big soft breasts. She threw her head back and laughed out loud, “Ohh ! I love it. How I longed to hold my own child in my arms all these years. Atlast my wish is fulfilled.”
She started walking into her flat with me held securely on her breasts, looking and smiling down at me lovingly. She entered a medium sized drawing room with a plush leather upholstered three piece Sofa set and other drawing room furniture systematically organised. She carried me in her arms and went and sat on one of the large single seater sofas. She took me on her lap sideways, cradling me in her arms. My legs went over one handle of the sofa, my back was towards the other handle, but resting on her big body. She pressed my head on her shoulders, her hands behind my back. With the other hand she pulled my legs up, so that I was actually lying on her big lap, looking up at her face sideways.
I had been so overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events that I did not know what to say. I had stabilised a little by then. I said in a slightly serious tone, “What are you doing Shukla didi ? You are holding me on your lap like I'm your baby. Please put me down”.
“Didi ?? Who is your didi ? I am your mother now, not your elder sister. Maybe not your original mother, but still I'm your father's second wife. I know you used to call your own mother, Ma. So you can call me Mummy.” She said this with a smiling face.
I said a little sternly, “I don't want to call you by any name. Just put me down from your lap.”
She didn't put me down. Instead she stood up still holding me in her cradle. She looked down at me and said, “You want to get down ? Ok ..go ahead. I'll not put you down. You have to get down yourself. Let's see how strong my son has become after growing up to be an adult.” She gave a challenging laugh.
That was a direct hit at my male ego. I gave a sudden jump from her arms…. Or rather I should say, I tried to jump out. Nothing happened. She had just tightened her hold on my body. She just took a step backwards and then stabilised. Her tight grip squeezed my body onto her breasts. It was as if I was pressed against a pair of air pillows. One of my hands instinctively went around her neck, the other went under her armpits and around her back. I did not know what got into me, I started to flail my legs in order to free myself. She started walking with me held tightly across her breasts like that, my legs flailing in the air. My face was turned towards her body and stuck angularly between her neck and shoulder. I suddenly heard her burst out into a paroxysm of laughter. I tried to look at her face. She loosened her hold a little so that my body was straight again. That made me regain energy and I started swinging my legs frantically to make her release her hold on me. She was laughing uncontrollably.
And then I saw it. I saw my reflection. She was standing in front of a full length mirror. It was such a funny sight. A fully grown adult male swinging his legs like mad, held awkwardly in the arms of a tall big middle aged woman, who was laughing away to glory. I stopped. I knew that I was making a fool of myself with that futile struggle.
“What happened dear ? Ho gaya ? Try some more. How pathetic…you couldn't free yourself from the arms of a 44 year old middle aged woman ? And you are, I think, 36 now ? A fully grown adult man of 36 can't free himself from the arms of his mother ! Shame, shame !” She was mocking me.
I pleaded, “Put me down please ! Why are you doing this to me ?”
She smiled, “Say - Mummy please put me down.”
I said, “Nooo !”
She smiled back and started walking, “Ok fine. Come let's go to the balcony. Lots of people would be walking in the compound now. And there would be our neighbour ladies on the other balconies too. Let me introduce my son to them.” Her face showed mocked seriousness.
She reached a door which looked like it was leading to a balcony. I almost screamed, “Mummy ! Stop ! Please don't go out on the balcony carrying me in your arms.”
Her face lit up with a big smile. She stopped. But she did not put me down. Instead she continued walking slowly in the room carrying me helplessly cradled in her arms. “That's like a good boy. Now listen. I have serious discussions with you. And I need your time. But first tell me, where's your luggage ?”
“I left my bag and laptop in the hotel”, I said straightforwardly.
“Hotel ?? Are you going to put up in a hotel ? Why ? Isn't this your house ? Isn't my house your house too ? I'm your mother, damn it. I'm your stepmother. Why don't you accept the fact ? This flat is bought with your own father's money. Not my money. So this is as much my house as yours. Come, let's go to the hotel. I'll get your luggage out here.” She seemed to be visibly angry.
But what is this new angle she is taking now ? My house, your house.. I wondered.
I said, “Why bother for a day? You tell me what you want to say or give. Then I'll go back tomorrow morning. I'll have to attend my office on Monday.”
She suddenly broke down into tears. She took some steps back and sat down on the big sofa, still holding me in her cradle. I was sitting on her big wide lap, sideways. My legs got stretched out on the sofa out of her lap. She removed her hand from under my knees and hid her face in her big palm and started crying. Uncontrollably. Her other hand was still behind my back holding me on her breast. I felt so odd. Being a young man of 36, I was now sitting on the wide soft lap of a big tall middle aged woman, held on her big soft breasts, like a child sitting on his mother's lap. And my stepmother was holding me on her lap and crying…literally.
I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. On an impulse I held her hand which was covering her face. Ohh wow ! Her wrist…what thick wide boned wrist. My fingers could go around it only half the way. It gave me an odd sensation down under. Anyways, getting over that, I slowly pulled her hand away from her face. Her eyes were full of tears.
She looked sadly at me and in a heavy voice said, “You were not this obstinate and rude when you were young. We used to chat as friends, you remember, when you used to come to meet your father in his office. I know, you were all hurt when your father left you. You have reason to hate me. But that was a momentary mistake from both our part, your father’s and mine. There wasn't any emotion in that. And we both had to pay the price for that all through our life. Your father regretted that all his life. He didn't want to leave his family…your mother and you.”
My upper body was cradled in one of her arms. She held me lightly. So I was practically lying on her lap with my back supported on her strong arm. Her other hand which I removed from her face was now placed on my chest. She was slowly moving her hand all over my body. My chest, my stomach, my thighs, my legs. The effect on me of this slow messaging of my body was becoming devastating. What could I do? I was a young man sitting on the lap of my adolescent crush. And she was so tall, so big, so sexy. I was getting all excited. I could feel my underwear getting tight. I was apprehensive that Shukla would be able to feel it growing while her hand passed over my middle portion.
Now she looked at my eyes a little seriously. She said softly, “Tell me Ravi. Honestly. Why are you behaving so rudely with me after so many years ? Is it solely because your father left you and your family 20 years back because of me ? Or because you lost your first love when I was gone ?”
I was surprised. What was she saying ? How did she know that I had a crush on her? I looked sheepishly up at her face. I stammered, “What ? What do you mean by that ?’
She was now smiling. I could sense her hand had stopped on the centre of my pants, right over my crotch. I could also sense that a small tent has now formed inside my pants, which is now covered by her big palm cupping over it. She gave a small squeeze with her palm. Very softly. A sharp ecstacy ran through my loins. She whispered, “This. I saw this same reaction in your pants when I used to stand in front of you and shake your hand in our office, 20 years back. You were only 15-16 then and I was 23-24. I knew that you had a crush on me back then. You called me Shukla didi then. I see that you have the same craziness for me even now. Do you love me still, Ravi ?”
I heard myself saying, “Yes, I am crazy about you. I love everything about you. Your height, your size, your strength, the way I feel small and weak, the you are holding me helpless in your arms and your lap. But I can't call you Mummy. You are still my big tall Shukla didi.”
She smiled lovingly down at me lying on her big soft lap, “Ok fine…you call me by whatever name you want to. I will love you all the same.”
Her voice was just a whisper, “You know Ravi…I loved it when I used to see you trying to hide your bulge in your pants when standing close to me, twenty years back. I was myself a young girl of 23-24 then. I used to feel proud how I could control your senses just by standing in front of you. And remember that car ride back from our office picnic, where your dad brought you along ? While returning, since there was no extra space in your dad's car, you had to sit on your dad's secretary’s lap. My hands were around your body holding you on to my lap. My palms were resting on your pants front. I could feel this bulge in your pants that day too. Ohh I loved it then. My small and cute silent lover boy.”
