Mohini enters the bathroom for a shower, but that's when she remembers that she has to wash her hair. The old shampoo bottle was exhausted, so she had to go back to get the new bottle. She steps out of the bathroom and looks for the shampoo bottle around her bedside table. She found it in almost no time and, picks it up. She turned around to get back inside the bathroom. Before she could take another step, a muffled moan reverberates her eardrums.
She’d brought Paneer from the market and made the Matar-Paneer dish for me as it was my all-time favorite. I can evoke the time when we were young, living under the same roof. She would always cook the same dish rather than our mother. It’s been well over a year since I’d tasted the Matar-Paneer from her hand.
Sunita was fooling around her son’s phone in an attempt to see if he was up to no good. She’d recently read on the internet everyone seems to be fap-chatting in some way or the other. She wanted to prevent him from landing in any trouble at his adolescent age. Scrolling around, she didn’t find anything. She was about to keep the phone away until she observed a thumbnail that had an odd-looking thumb on it. But it wasn’t a thumb indeed. It was something that made her mouth water and petals moist. The primal nature of the odd-looking thumb and how much she wanted to hold it, caress it, and get hammered by it stimulates her womanhood. And then it hits her. It’s her son’s pego. She recognized the bathroom tiles in the background of that image. She hurriedly puts the phone away, disgusted by herself.
Arunima put the bedsheet sighing and looking around her bedroom. It was not perfect, not like her dream bedroom but not bad though. The damp scent of the room was still there. It was an abandoned and unused apartment for a decade or so. Recently the building was renovated and Arunima was the first occupant.
We were going to our grandparent’s home. I was driving the KTM 390. My elder sister Vinni was holding our single backpack, sitting right behind. Vinni, aka Vinitha, was twenty-one years old. I was only seventeen.
My mother and I have a strange relationship. If I said it's incestuous, that'd be an exaggeration. If I said it's platonic, then I'd be lying.
My father is a Doctor who had to leave for the hospital. He's been staying out even more since COVID. That gave us a perfect window to spend some quality time with each other.
He wakes up at night around 1:03 AM. He needed to tinkle. They were on a luxury Bus sharing a couple-seat on the upper deck, sleeper coach. AC was blowing cold air at its full capacity; the temperature was low. Scientifically speaking, one tends to take a piss more often during winter than any other season. He was drowsy, so much so that he was barely able to open his eyes completely. Feeling lazy, he had a crazy idea. It didn't seem too crazy, at that very particular moment to him. He looked at her mother, fast asleep on his side.
The day before yesterday, Christmas. Ever since I was a kid, I remember celebrating it every single year. We aren't Christians, religiously speaking. As I grew, I became an agnostic. But that's not the point.
