As Durga Puja (a major Hindu religious festival) ended, and winter set in, Mintu's letters reflected his need for me and my love on one hand and the worry he had as to what I would do, when faced with the need to face the society we live in and tell our parents that we, while being first cousins, wanted to live together. Whatever that meant!

I was really nervous. And I was very happy, that atleast one man among the billions was willing to risk all, in order to have me and my love. Besides, I loved his style of making love. I often asked myself, if my brain had in fact been located between my legs and not between my ears.

Kolkata is not too cold. But we Bengali's behave as if we are on the North Pole. My Mother fussed around all the times, telling us, we should be well clad and never get exposed to the treacherous wintery wind. But, around 15th December, Mintu rang up and first spoke to my Mother. It was a good 6 minutes, before he asked whether I was home. She shouted to me "Khuku -- Mintu from Kharagpur". I made a face that denoted I was not terribly happy to speak with Mintu. My Mother hissed "Your brother. You can't speak to him without making faces!!!??"

I wanted my Mother to drift away when I spoke to him. But, she took her time trying to wrap herself with her shawl and then collected her disheveled saree and slowly padded away. Till that time, I made it appear that I was trying to arrange to find myself a seat on a stool next to the phone instrument.

As she walked away, I said "Hello". Mintu did not waste time. He said "I am speaking from a public phone in a local shop. I can't say what all I want to say. Besides I don't have too much money, so I can't talk for long. So listen carefully." I could make out from his firm voice that he was about to say something very important.

Myriad thoughts went through my mind. Mostly negative. What if, he has decided to dump me? What if he wants to go away? What if . . . . . .

I replied "Yes. OK"

MIntu just said, "Khuku -- I have a short vacation during Christmas, I want you to come to Kharagpur and stay with me for a week." I was about to say, "That would be difficult . . . ". Mintu added, "I have already requested Pishi to let you come over and she has generally made happy noises." I blurted, "She did??"

Mintu added, "I have told her that I need help with my thesis work". That was a curve ball. My Mother could not possibly not help Mintu. What would her Dada (elder brother) say if he heard that Mintu needed help and she did not let Mintu have that help?

"What kind of help do you need?" I asked loudly. He asked, "Is that for atmospherics??" I ignored that question and shouted "No. I can't come over in this weather," He kept quiet. I then again added, "What help can I be of?? In your engineering studies?? And how can I stay in the hostel and use the toilet?" He again remained quiet. I again said after a gap. "Yes. Yes. I know. Ma will agree to whatsoever you say. But, I don't want to be with you there. You bother me so much. How will I change? Where can I wash my clothes? Besides, where will I sleep? Where can you add a separate cot?"

The woman in me had woken up. I was play acting my irritation with his request, while my heart raced at the prospect being in his arms and surrender to his ministrations. My body ached for his pleasurable torture.

Mintu was laughing -- pretty loudly. He had caught on to the fact that my loud protests were serving an audience. When I stopped talking and he stopped laughing, he said, "Seriously speaking, just pack seven salwar -- kurta sets and other garments. No sarees." He then added with a short laugh, we won't need another cot. It creaks -- and all the boys will come to know what we are up to. I will pick you up from the station. I will borrow a ladies bicycle which does not have a back carrier and bring you on the cycle."

My sense of humor had perhaps been obscured by all the blood rushing to my crotch at the very thought of wanton love -- between the danger of being discovered. I asked my usual silly question (in almost a whisper) "How will I sit on the cycle? Besides why can't I come with you on a rickshaw?"

Mintu laughed loudly and said "Guess how you will sit on the front?"

For the life of me, I could not guess. I asked, "Where??"

"On my dick -- you fool!!"

I was getting flooded. But, by this time I had recovered my mind. I whispered, "May be I can sit facing you on the same seat."

I think he was stunned with my repartee. I turned the screw one more turn and whispered "That way, I can't fall off the perch. After all, with my legs wrapped around you and something inside me, I will be safer."

There was silence for a few seconds. Mintu said, "God. You are salty woman. That is why I like you so much. Just come over. I am bursting and I will not spill my seed in vain, when there is a perfectly willing place to deliver it. Besides, both of us love that, isn't it?"

I said, "Yes."

Then I shouted, "Let me talk to Ma. This is very unfair!!! Why do I have to undergo this stupidity because you can't do your work properly??"

A small silence was followed by my shouting "Yes. Yes. I will get the typewriter along."

"Okay. Bye."

I slammed the receiver down and yelled "Ma."

My mother answered back with irritation from the kitchen, "Yes. What is it?"

I thumped across to her and told her, "This is very unfair. You agree to my going to Mintu to help him without even asking? It will be very uncomfortable there. And I have other plans."

She simply said, "It is your brother. And what sister does not agree to help her brother at all times?? The discomfort is nothing. It is all in your mind -- silly."

I protested and made sorry faces. She only had to look at me with a sorry face once and I made it sound as reluctant as possible and said, "Okay. I suppose, I will have to go."

In the next few days, I packed a small suitcase with salwar -- kurta sets, bras, towel etc. My over-nighter pouch with tooth brush and small vanity material. I picked out the portable typewriter and dusted it and got its ribbon changed. I told my Mother that I will be able to travel on my own in the Kolkata -- Kharagpur suburban train (that takes three hours to reach)

I was dropped at the station and I reached Kharagpur. When the train coasted in, I saw him standing on the platform. I waved to him and he walked briskly to assist me get down from the train. I stepped down. He held my hand and ensured I was safe and picked up my suitcase and walked through the jostling crowd. I was thinking if he was really going to take me back on his bicycle front rod!!!

As we emerged from the under pass, he hailed a three wheeled manual rickshaw. We got into it and squeezed in.

In the bumping rickshaw, I asked, "What about that ladies cycle??" naughtily.

Mintu just looked at me, and quickly said, "Just wait. Brewing longer makes better coffee, remember?? You will ride the way you like best."

I could feel the tremble pass down my spine that spared off a crash of electric current in crotch.

I sat like a brother and told me in English, "I have a lot to talk to you about. I want you for life. And I don't care who says what about not falling in love with your sister. I have. I can't help it. I know our relationship will have no social sanction. In fact, it will be illegal. But, I want you as my life partner. If we agree with what we have to do to become life partners, may be, we will get married -- our way. And the next seven days can be our honeymoon."

To put it mildly, I was stunned. I never thought that I would receive a marriage proposal sitting on a rickety rickshaw. I blushed at the very thought that he wanted this trip to be our nuptial.

I nodded and looked at his serious face. He added, "If not, we can remain siblings. And if that happens, I will never again touch you -- like all brothers and sisters do in India."

Tears welled in my eyes. I don't know why. I wiped my tears with my small handkerchief that was rolled up in my fist. And I blew my nose and straightened myself up.

He looked straight into my eyes and said (in English), "You know, I can't kiss your tears away in this rickshaw." After a short silence, he added, "When we reach, I will make up to you."

Soon enough we reached Azad Hall of Residence (the hostel block Mintu stayed).

We dismounted and moved towards his room. On the way, we had to stop several times for me to be introduced to his friends "Aamaar Bone. Amaakey thesisey help kortay eshechchey." (My younger sister. I have got her here to help me type the thesis in." In the Indian context, friend's sister is immediately accepted and she becomes the universal younger sister. All friends got introduced and back slapped Mintu saying, "You lucky chap. You get your sister to help out. But, we will all chat with her and get her to cook some humanly edible food for us."

I had to be polite and as sisterly as was possible. So I agreed to cook and look after them. One friend offered that Mintu could share his room with him, while Mintu's sister could sleep in peace and privacy in Mintu's room.

I knew, this was the bad news. Years of making love nearly under my Mother's keen eyes had taught me to think on my feet. I quickly added, "I have not come here to sleep. If Mintu wants any work, he better be with me. And then, I will be a little scared too!!" Mintu's friend shook his head in an understanding manner. I quickly added, "And then, I will be able to sleep while all of you are in your class rooms and labs."

I had carried boxes of Bengali sweets for sharing with the wing mates in the hostel. They all met me and were amazingly polite and kind. They all partook of the sweets and offered any help that was possible. Mintu suggested, "Bol to, Khuku chaan kortay kikoray jabey?" (How will Khuku go for a bath??") The friends obliged, "Let her lock the front door of the common bathroom while she is having her bath and dressing etc.