Then suddenly, she threw her arms around me and kissed me on my lips. That was my first ever kiss. Even today, I distinctly remember the smell of peanut chikki on her breath. I hugged her too & felt her trembling, soft body against mine. Almost immediately, she pushed me back & sprang out of my embrace.
"Let's go home. You better drive." She said in an unsteady voice.
This time, she sat astride on the pillion, throwing her arms around my waist & holding me tight. I was acutely aware of her soft breasts pressing against my back and the discomfort of my trousers constraining my hard-on. I drove as slowly as I could, to prolong the intimate moments. She let go of me only when we approached the city and could possibly be seen by passers-by. We didn't exchange a word on the way back to her home. Fortunately, there was nobody at home when we arrived. She quickly ran inside while I parked the scooter & then rode home on my bicycle.
I did visit her home a few times after that, playing badminton with Kirti & Kirit, but Swati had become remote & withdrawn and just barely acknowledged my presence. In any case, she was in the final year of her Bachelor of Arts course while I was in the eleventh standard, a crucial year from the point of view of securing admission to a good college. The final exams were drawing near and so we both became busy with our studies.
***
Swati Goes To Mumbai
Swati had an artistic streak in her and was particularly good at drawing. I had seen some of her sketches & even to my untrained eye, they had looked beautiful. After graduation Swati joined a post-graduate course in fine arts at a well-known art school in Bombay (now Mumbai).
I surprised everyone including myself by scoring excellent marks in the high school final examination. I also sat for a competitive test & gained admission to the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur.
***
In Mumbai, Swati suddenly found herself unshackled from many of the restrictions that a small town places on young, nubile girls. Moreover, in Swati's case, in spite of her attractiveness, her father's influence & power had made potential suitors wary of approaching her. Swati, having inherited her father's earthy, hot-blooded sensuality had found these restrictions all the more galling. It was no wonder then that in Mumbai she went a bit overboard with befriending boys and having a good time. She soon acquired a quite undeserved reputation of being a "fast" girl. She had an assertive, strong personality, quick wit and a sharp tongue. So, although she enjoyed being in the company of her many male admirers and reveled in the attention they bestowed on her, she never allowed anybody to take liberties with her, staying true to her mother's strict admonition: no canoodling and most certainly no sex before marriage. Nor did she ever violate the strict curfew rules of the girls' hostel she lived in. Until she met Satish, that is.
***
Satish
Satish was a tall, fair, well-built, handsome young boy, studying in St. Xavier's college. He had the looks and build of a Bollywood hero. He was the son of a powerful bureaucrat then posted in Mumbai. His family belonged to a wealthy, land-owning, well-connected North Indian Brahmin clan that traced its roots back to the days of the Mughal emperors. Over the centuries the clan had produced a galaxy of distinguished civil servants, academics, soldiers, diplomats and businessmen. Never had there been a time in the last four hundred years when there had not been clansmen in positions of power & influence in the durbars of rajahs & nawabs scattered all over north India, including the Mughal durbars at Agra / Delhi. The British era had been particularly propitious for the clan. Not only had they produced more than their fair share of Rai Bahadurs & Dewan Bahadurs, they had also accumulated immense wealth; lately by cornering lucrative war-time supply contracts.
Satish was an only son, born on the back of two daughters; the apple of his mother's eye. He had attended the best public schools; was urbane, polished and well versed in the airs and graces of high society. He was always well dressed, even foppish and never seemed to be short of money. He had access to all the good things money & influence could buy even in the socialistic era of the nineteen-sixties. His most prized possession was a shaft drive BMW motorcycle his father had bought for him from a departing West German diplomat. No wonder then that he was always surrounded by a bevy of girls.
Unfortunately, although Satish was reasonably bright, he was vain, weak willed, ambitionless and lacked a clear goal in life. The deficiencies in his personality and character had not been helped by the shortcomings in his upbringing. Being the only one to carry forward the family name, he had been coddled and spoilt from an early age. An overweening sense of superiority about his illustrious family and their rightful position in India's power elite had been instilled in him since childhood. It was not surprising therefore that he was rather self-centered and used to getting his way; his petulance and arrogance lurked just under the surface.
***
Swati Gets Married
Satish & Swati had met at a party and fallen hard for each other. Satish had everything that Swati wanted in her man: the looks and build of a bollywood hero, a background of wealth & privilege and a Brahmin to boot! To cap it all, Swati had been "shafted by his shaft drive motorbike" as she ruefully put it many years later while resting in my arms. Satish on the other hand was utterly captivated by the bright, smart, self assured, sexy, articulate young Swati who was so totally unlike any girl he had met till then.
They were soon inseparable. They bunked college and spent many an afternoon together, chatting in coffee shops, watching matinee shows, going on long drives on the powerful BMW bike and once in a while making out in the privacy of an obliging friend's bedroom. Although Swati was as passionate & hot-blooded as they come, she never allowed Satish to "go all the way", in spite of his desperate pleading & entreaties. She was very firm that to attain that prize, he would have to marry her first. This was a blow to Satish's pride; he had rarely had to take a no for an answer.
Weak willed & indecisive as Satish was, he waffled and procrastinated for a long time before finally proposing marriage. Swati was only too glad to accept, and immediately demanded to be introduced to his parents. Satish was realistic enough to know that his parents would never accept a "half-caste" Maharashtrian girl as their bahu (daughter-in-law). He didn't have any idea how he was going to broach the subject with his parents. He kept putting the matter off until one day Swati served him an ultimatum: there would be no more meetings until she was introduced to his parents. Fortunately, Satish was spared the pain of breaking the news to his parents when Satish's married elder sister accidentally found out about the relationship. When confronted, Satish had sheepishly admitted that he wanted to marry Swati.
With this, all hell broke loose in Satish's house. His hypertensive mother threw the mother of all tantrums and took to bed, refusing all food and drink, reducing Satish to a quivering lump of jelly. His father Santosh Kumar had a sound appreciation of his son's capabilities & character and knew that he would never be able to make the grade in the civil services entrance exams. He had therefore nursed dreams of setting Satish up in business and had even short listed marriageable girls from wealthy families of their own caste who could bring in a large enough dowry for the purpose. He was not prepared to see his dream shattered by an uncivilized, upstart half-caste ghati (a derogatory term North Indians sometimes use to describe Maharashtrians) girl. He was a powerful, influential bureaucrat with connections in high places. He immediately called his good friend, a highly placed police officer and asked for help to try and scare the girl off or, if absolutely essential, to bribe her to leave his son. His friend listened and promised to see what he could do. When his friend called back the next day, Santosh Kumar broke into a cold sweat.
"Do you know who her father is?" His friend asked Santosh Kumar and then proceeded to describe the reach and power of Laxmanrao's connections, right up to the highest political levels in New Delhi. Santosh Kumar was left in no doubt that Laxmanrao could be really bad news for anybody who dared to cross his path and that he was quite capable of ruining not merely Satish's life but also Santosh Kumar's career if he chose to.
"It is best to reach a compromise" was his last piece of advice as his friend hung up on Santosh Kumar. This left Santosh Kumar in a pretty pickle. He thought long and hard trying to find a way out. He made some more discreet enquiries about Swati & her family, probing for some weakness. He soon came to know about Swati's Brahmin mother & Laxmanrao's hunger for assimilation into the upper caste society. He developed an even greater appreciation of Laxmanrao's wealth & political connections. Gradually, it dawned on him that there was a real opportunity here. His spoilt, good for nothing son might actually have hit the jackpot, he realized.
Santosh Kumar's illustrious forefathers had been adept at reading straws in the wind and ingratiating themselves with ascendant political forces early on. That had been one of the secrets of the clan's great success. This faculty seemed to have curiously deserted the clan elders when in the late nineteenth century the forces of nationalism had risen from the ashes of their defeat in the 1857 War of Independence and slowly but inexorably gathered strength in the twentieth century, eventually resulting in the overthrow of the British Empire. As a result, there was not a single member of the clan in the nationalist movement in the pre-independence era and none in the political establishment, post Independence.
"Let's go home. You better drive." She said in an unsteady voice.
This time, she sat astride on the pillion, throwing her arms around my waist & holding me tight. I was acutely aware of her soft breasts pressing against my back and the discomfort of my trousers constraining my hard-on. I drove as slowly as I could, to prolong the intimate moments. She let go of me only when we approached the city and could possibly be seen by passers-by. We didn't exchange a word on the way back to her home. Fortunately, there was nobody at home when we arrived. She quickly ran inside while I parked the scooter & then rode home on my bicycle.
I did visit her home a few times after that, playing badminton with Kirti & Kirit, but Swati had become remote & withdrawn and just barely acknowledged my presence. In any case, she was in the final year of her Bachelor of Arts course while I was in the eleventh standard, a crucial year from the point of view of securing admission to a good college. The final exams were drawing near and so we both became busy with our studies.
***
Swati Goes To Mumbai
Swati had an artistic streak in her and was particularly good at drawing. I had seen some of her sketches & even to my untrained eye, they had looked beautiful. After graduation Swati joined a post-graduate course in fine arts at a well-known art school in Bombay (now Mumbai).
I surprised everyone including myself by scoring excellent marks in the high school final examination. I also sat for a competitive test & gained admission to the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur.
***
In Mumbai, Swati suddenly found herself unshackled from many of the restrictions that a small town places on young, nubile girls. Moreover, in Swati's case, in spite of her attractiveness, her father's influence & power had made potential suitors wary of approaching her. Swati, having inherited her father's earthy, hot-blooded sensuality had found these restrictions all the more galling. It was no wonder then that in Mumbai she went a bit overboard with befriending boys and having a good time. She soon acquired a quite undeserved reputation of being a "fast" girl. She had an assertive, strong personality, quick wit and a sharp tongue. So, although she enjoyed being in the company of her many male admirers and reveled in the attention they bestowed on her, she never allowed anybody to take liberties with her, staying true to her mother's strict admonition: no canoodling and most certainly no sex before marriage. Nor did she ever violate the strict curfew rules of the girls' hostel she lived in. Until she met Satish, that is.
***
Satish
Satish was a tall, fair, well-built, handsome young boy, studying in St. Xavier's college. He had the looks and build of a Bollywood hero. He was the son of a powerful bureaucrat then posted in Mumbai. His family belonged to a wealthy, land-owning, well-connected North Indian Brahmin clan that traced its roots back to the days of the Mughal emperors. Over the centuries the clan had produced a galaxy of distinguished civil servants, academics, soldiers, diplomats and businessmen. Never had there been a time in the last four hundred years when there had not been clansmen in positions of power & influence in the durbars of rajahs & nawabs scattered all over north India, including the Mughal durbars at Agra / Delhi. The British era had been particularly propitious for the clan. Not only had they produced more than their fair share of Rai Bahadurs & Dewan Bahadurs, they had also accumulated immense wealth; lately by cornering lucrative war-time supply contracts.
Satish was an only son, born on the back of two daughters; the apple of his mother's eye. He had attended the best public schools; was urbane, polished and well versed in the airs and graces of high society. He was always well dressed, even foppish and never seemed to be short of money. He had access to all the good things money & influence could buy even in the socialistic era of the nineteen-sixties. His most prized possession was a shaft drive BMW motorcycle his father had bought for him from a departing West German diplomat. No wonder then that he was always surrounded by a bevy of girls.
Unfortunately, although Satish was reasonably bright, he was vain, weak willed, ambitionless and lacked a clear goal in life. The deficiencies in his personality and character had not been helped by the shortcomings in his upbringing. Being the only one to carry forward the family name, he had been coddled and spoilt from an early age. An overweening sense of superiority about his illustrious family and their rightful position in India's power elite had been instilled in him since childhood. It was not surprising therefore that he was rather self-centered and used to getting his way; his petulance and arrogance lurked just under the surface.
***
Swati Gets Married
Satish & Swati had met at a party and fallen hard for each other. Satish had everything that Swati wanted in her man: the looks and build of a bollywood hero, a background of wealth & privilege and a Brahmin to boot! To cap it all, Swati had been "shafted by his shaft drive motorbike" as she ruefully put it many years later while resting in my arms. Satish on the other hand was utterly captivated by the bright, smart, self assured, sexy, articulate young Swati who was so totally unlike any girl he had met till then.
They were soon inseparable. They bunked college and spent many an afternoon together, chatting in coffee shops, watching matinee shows, going on long drives on the powerful BMW bike and once in a while making out in the privacy of an obliging friend's bedroom. Although Swati was as passionate & hot-blooded as they come, she never allowed Satish to "go all the way", in spite of his desperate pleading & entreaties. She was very firm that to attain that prize, he would have to marry her first. This was a blow to Satish's pride; he had rarely had to take a no for an answer.
Weak willed & indecisive as Satish was, he waffled and procrastinated for a long time before finally proposing marriage. Swati was only too glad to accept, and immediately demanded to be introduced to his parents. Satish was realistic enough to know that his parents would never accept a "half-caste" Maharashtrian girl as their bahu (daughter-in-law). He didn't have any idea how he was going to broach the subject with his parents. He kept putting the matter off until one day Swati served him an ultimatum: there would be no more meetings until she was introduced to his parents. Fortunately, Satish was spared the pain of breaking the news to his parents when Satish's married elder sister accidentally found out about the relationship. When confronted, Satish had sheepishly admitted that he wanted to marry Swati.
With this, all hell broke loose in Satish's house. His hypertensive mother threw the mother of all tantrums and took to bed, refusing all food and drink, reducing Satish to a quivering lump of jelly. His father Santosh Kumar had a sound appreciation of his son's capabilities & character and knew that he would never be able to make the grade in the civil services entrance exams. He had therefore nursed dreams of setting Satish up in business and had even short listed marriageable girls from wealthy families of their own caste who could bring in a large enough dowry for the purpose. He was not prepared to see his dream shattered by an uncivilized, upstart half-caste ghati (a derogatory term North Indians sometimes use to describe Maharashtrians) girl. He was a powerful, influential bureaucrat with connections in high places. He immediately called his good friend, a highly placed police officer and asked for help to try and scare the girl off or, if absolutely essential, to bribe her to leave his son. His friend listened and promised to see what he could do. When his friend called back the next day, Santosh Kumar broke into a cold sweat.
"Do you know who her father is?" His friend asked Santosh Kumar and then proceeded to describe the reach and power of Laxmanrao's connections, right up to the highest political levels in New Delhi. Santosh Kumar was left in no doubt that Laxmanrao could be really bad news for anybody who dared to cross his path and that he was quite capable of ruining not merely Satish's life but also Santosh Kumar's career if he chose to.
"It is best to reach a compromise" was his last piece of advice as his friend hung up on Santosh Kumar. This left Santosh Kumar in a pretty pickle. He thought long and hard trying to find a way out. He made some more discreet enquiries about Swati & her family, probing for some weakness. He soon came to know about Swati's Brahmin mother & Laxmanrao's hunger for assimilation into the upper caste society. He developed an even greater appreciation of Laxmanrao's wealth & political connections. Gradually, it dawned on him that there was a real opportunity here. His spoilt, good for nothing son might actually have hit the jackpot, he realized.
Santosh Kumar's illustrious forefathers had been adept at reading straws in the wind and ingratiating themselves with ascendant political forces early on. That had been one of the secrets of the clan's great success. This faculty seemed to have curiously deserted the clan elders when in the late nineteenth century the forces of nationalism had risen from the ashes of their defeat in the 1857 War of Independence and slowly but inexorably gathered strength in the twentieth century, eventually resulting in the overthrow of the British Empire. As a result, there was not a single member of the clan in the nationalist movement in the pre-independence era and none in the political establishment, post Independence.