Lovely Time At Mami’s Place
housewife, mami

It’s a story that is similar to thousands of love stories but the only thing different is that it’s difficult to say love was one sided or both or if at all it was there. It was the time of summer vacations and I was asked to visit my maternal uncle’s house to spend a few days with my mami since my uncle had passed away. She had a daughter Smriti, appearing for her board, and the sole purpose of my visit would most certainly be to train her in maths. I was studying college . I had started preparation for my exams a year back. Smriti was a very ordinary teenage girl; she had no ambitions and was generally poor in academics like any of the other girls in her village. I liked her simplicity, and the way she gulped down a cake last time she visited our house still lingered in my memory. That was all about Smriti when I knocked at my aunt’s door on May 1st, 1993. But my visit gave me a shock. She had lost her eye sight due to an accident and had to be helped by her mom at almost everything. Immediately I felt pity for her and thought I had entered the wrong house. To add to their woes, I was now a guest they should attend to. I told mami lot of times to shift to the city where Smriti could get operated but she replied in the negative citing financial crisis. I could understand her point but I surely wanted to help them in any way I could. My mama, when was alive, taught me so many subjects and even given all of the books he had written on Bengali fiction. He wanted to see me get famous and urged me to publish the stories in my name. This strange request timed back just couple of months before his tragic death. It was possible he knew about his fore-coming tragedy beforehand somehow. My mami was making rotis for me one night when we were vividly revisiting these old memories. Suddenly I could notice a tear in her eye. I feigned ignorance and tried to deviate from the topic when I heard her weeping. I held her in my arms but that was not enough to stop her flow. I told her, Mami I can do anything for you and Smriti. I owe you a lot. My entire life would be nothing. I really meant those words. Her reply shook me – “Then baba, promise me that you will marry Smriti when you get a job in the city. I don’t want her to be without a husband in future. And the reason your mama died, I might also have to give my life for the same reason. He had lot of loans from all the wrong guys in the village” I was shaken. It was certainly not a solution I could accept nor a decision I could happily make. Would I finally marry blindly a blind girl like her and take her responsibility life long? I could surely help them financially but marriage was the most important event in anyone’s life and time was needed before committing. Before more negative thoughts could cloud my mind, she said, putting a hand on my thigh, “Baba, please don’t say ‘no’. You are my little sweet baba”. She said and patted almost accidentally too near my upper thigh to give an automatic shiver. I was constantly looking down during this whole conversation and especially during her shift of ‘location’; I couldn’t dare to look up. “You are just like my son, Rajib. I wish had a son like you. A male member in the family has its own necessities”, she continued still keeping her hand on my upper thigh. I felt she stressed on ‘member’ while she spoke. I softly nodded in agreement. I was frozen inside and had no better reply. That night when I was fighting between sleep and decisions, I tried to re-access my natural reaction earlier. Why was I without a reply when she shared her problems with me? Did I want her to go on and pour all her emotions out without hindrance or was my body reacting to her touch on my upper thigh where no woman has ever ventured into? I really felt myself like a thief thinking this. I was my mama’s baby and never did mischievous things, like usually kids do, to anger my mom or guilt my mind. But now, just by thinking this I was experiencing the feeling of guilt the first time in my life. And the experience was not a pleasurable one. That night was also the first time in my life I had a completely sleepless night. Things moved on, days rolled by and I never brought up the topic again. I didn’t have to teach Smriti maths and mostly spent time chatting with her. Mami never allowed me to do any household work and as if she left me and Smriti to be comfortable with each other. Although I was buried deep under Mama’s debt, that thought made me sulk. I guess mami could figure it out from my expressions. “Baba, you know this time the climate is too hot in the village. Rains are nowhere to be seen. I can see you are not comfortable wearing jeans and T shirt. You are sweating. I will give you a half pant. You can change.” As soon I took out slid into the pant I realized it was too small and bit tight. Mami was standing behind me. “Never mind Baba, it’s the old pant of your mama. Don’t feel shy from Smriti.” She didn’t say the rest that she was blind and started weeping softly. My mami was about 35 years old. Her appearance resembled a friend of my mom’s, Tripti Aunty, difference was my mami was more traditional looking and always wore a saree instead of a salwar, that’s more common in the cities. Tripti Aunty was naturally good looking and I had a crush on her in the beginning when I miscalculated her age. That meant the same accolades applied for my mami, only that her movements were more restricted. However the scorching heat in the village had led way for more freedom for her as she didn’t wear her dupatta inside the house. When there were only two days left, I found she was more desperate to convince me. We had more discussions on the topic and I kept nodding in the affirmative. At night the electricity went off and there was no oil in the lantern. I was sitting in the veranda when I heard Amani’s voice. “Baba, come here, I have something to show you”. I went in the direction of the voice through the stark darkness. I stumbled on some objects in the floor and fell directly on a very soft cushion laid out possibly in the bed. A slight painful moan escaped. Soon I realized my mistake: I had fallen on my mami lying on the bed. My head was resting over her breast and my body over hers. My lips found skin and I could sense the absence of a bra. I tried to bite my lips to make sure I was not dreaming. Instead they found her aureola. She cried. I instantly said sorry. But it was too late; her hand was behind my head pressing it. Soon I was frantic like a wild child. My little half pant flew in the direction of Smriti because she said “Bhaiya don’t throw your clothes”. Her questions met our desperate panting. The little tiger was unleashed and soon it tasted hot wet saliva. There was something for everyone. She made sure I was settled deep, then unsettled and then again settled. Noises of constant slapping filled the room to which Smriti asked, “maa, why are you slapping Rajib?” “No my dear, we are only playing a game.” “Is it the same game you used to play with Baba?” “Aahh, err, yes” That last word indicated our completion also. Mami slowly headed to the bathroom, whispering to me “come after me”. I spent my time cleaning up with the towel. Suddenly the room lit up. The electricity hit me in the face hard. I was still semi hard. Smriti was sitting blindly at the edge of the bed, clueless. Guessing my dear mami will take more time in the bathroom, I told her: “Smriti I bought a lollipop for you from the shop, do you want to taste it?” “Of course, Rajib bhaiya” the excitement in her face was palpable. “I want to see if you can finish it in 2 minutes without biting. No cheating huh” “Sure, I can try. Give me”. Those two minutes were the best in my life. I wished this eagerness could happen with all girls without any tricks. Finally, I heard the bathroom door knob click. “Two minutes over, Smriti. You couldn’t finish sister” “Bhaiya but I don’t remember the taste of the cream?” It’s good you don’t remember, I thought, totally spent and heading towards the bathroom. Mami was coming out wearing a sari as usual. When I freshened up, she said “Rajib baba, Smriti told me you gave her a lollipop. Can we both have it again now?” I had already made that most important decision in my life that night. Comment me on [email protected] from Mumbai.