The British Raj

This is a work of fiction. It discusses strong topics such as interracial sex, non-consent, etc. If such topics are not to your liking then you can stop reading any further.

Otherwise enjoy! I would love to have some feedback. As this will be a series with multiple chapters I would like my readers to join me and construct future editions. You can leave a comment or reach me at my mail address.

I first set foot in the enchanted land of India in the year 1900. As the world stood at the dawn of a new century, I arrived in Calcutta as a married lady. My husband: Edward Owen was now a civil servant having marched through the Indian Civil Service examinations with flying colours. Edward and I had been married two months when he was assigned to take charge over a district the size of London in the Indian state of United Provinces.

I must admit, I knew very little of India before stepping foot in it. My mother in one of her tea gatherings had stated that all of India was a hot, boiling piece of desert land with little vegetation and inhabited by heathens who prayed to multiple gods. But essential information did reach me in the form of letters, sent to me by my dear cousin Winston. He was posted as a military cadet and would constantly write to me describing his surroundings and how different India actually was from what my mother described.

Winston also told me how it had changed him. To my horror, India had a profound effect on his faith. He once wrote to me,

'Religion is a delicious narcotic', he thought and even professed to accept Protestantism as he found it 'closer to reason'. I, as an obedient Roman Catholic abhorred this idea and was worried, thinking he might stray away from God entirely. Oh how many letters I wrote trying to sway his faculties to return home both figuratively and literally. Sadly, that would not be convincing enough.

After we set foot in Calcutta, we took a tiring journey to Oudh (Lucknow precisely) from where we took a carriage to Jamnagariya: our place of residence. I remember, distinctly, the clamour in the bazaar. Street vendors offering fruit, furniture and other finished goods. There was a horse salesman who shouted as our carriage rolled by, possibly because his ware could only be afforded by the rich. A great line of shops catering to selling colorful cloth. I mistook a saree for a table cloth only to be made fun of by Edward as he knew more of the culture than I did.

We rolled by the bazaar and the next scenery was of the farmlands. For as far as the eye could see there was nothing but green pastures, occasionally I spotted a hut or two in the middle. Farmers ploughing their fields in the scorching heat. It was largely peaceful. The only other noise apart from our carriage was being made by the crickets which I would learn later, were in healthy abundance. It was definitely the opposite of London which was a deep well of constant pandemonium and mayhem.

We would reach our place of residence at five in the eve'. The sun was about to set and even in the month of October, it was stiflingly hot. The heat was truly unbearable and I was stupid enough to wear a black plaid dress with a scarf around my poor neck. I felt suffocated so as soon as I stepped out of the carriage, I ran inside the bungalow.

While my husband stood outside laughing his guts out, I had made my way inside onto the porch. Immediately I saw three women approach me, one holding what looked like a glass of water, the other two on either side of her holding a copper jug and a hand fan respectively. I gulped down the contents in the glass without even noticing what it was. The after taste was both sweet and salty. I turned to the woman and asked,

"What is this?"

"Nimboo-pani", she replied plainly. The middle-aged lady draped in a violet saree had a look of maturity and command. Her forehead was wrinkled and her posture made her look respectable. So I axiomatically inquired,

"Are you the governess?"

"Yes memsahib. I deal with the day-to-day workings in this house." She replied, this time with more passion. Probably my inquiry had acted as a catalyst to her pride. Her laconic replies increased my curiosity but I didn't question her any further.

The lady on her left offered more from the jug, I denied.

"I'm well, thank you." This woman holding the jug was breathtakingly beautiful. Her exotic skin tone coupled with her feline eyes gave her the look of a celestial maiden, exactly like I imagined a Hindu goddess would look like. Her long wavy hair was set free and therefore, they would sway slightly with a gush of wind. I felt myself to be inadequate immediately and a feminine jealousy arose in me. She smiled and instinctively, I did not return it back. 'Be careful with this one', I thought to myself. Only if I knew what trouble she would be to me, I would've banished her at that very moment. But I was a fool for not sensing the obvious. They say a woman's instinct does not ever fail her and yet it has.

After reawakening my faculties I looked around me. Edward had busied himself with luggage and I found time to tour my new home with the governess whose name was Padmini.

The bungalow was surrounded on all four sides by gardens. There was even a small pond on the northern section of the garden. The house itself was massive, almost thrice the size of my family palace in Yorkshire. It had twelve bedrooms with attached bathrooms, three dining rooms, a large kitchen with a chimney, a large drawing room, four powder rooms and a large attic where the servants resided. 

"I told you Marge, we'll live like the Royals here." Said my husband while walking past me. He knew that I was mesmerised by the surroundings. It truly was a palace and not just a bungalow.

My first night was tumultuous. Dark clouds had engulfed the entire night sky and the wind was howling wildly. I could not sleep and while my husband was in his bedroom, I lay, staring at my ceiling and the chandelier that dangled from the ceiling, almost floating. I thought of picking up a book but was too lazy to act upon my thoughts. The loud thunder would've made it impossible anyways.

I tried again to sleep but after an hour passed with no result, I lit my candle. I had thought of sitting in the drawing room momentarily. 

As I walked out of my room a strong gust of wind extinguished my candle. I lit it again and returned. The night was ghostly dark and only the momentary lightning flashes were my source of light apart from my humble candle. I tread quietly through the veranda. I could hear, although hushed, the sound of a roan. 'I think it is a horse', I whispered. On this cold night, I was clad only in my cotton nightgown. The inclement weather had made it impossible for me to actually shield my body with the robe.

As I walked past Edward's bedroom I heard a muffled moan. What was odd was that it was of a woman. I went closer to the window. I could see through the little design and what I witnessed was truly shocking and saddening.

Edward was on top of Ragini (the maid from earlier). His right hand had clutched her wrists behind her head while his other hand was covering her mouth. Evidently he had failed to muffle her moans.

But the woman was also enjoying it as her feet crossed above Edward's waist, like a spider. Ragini (for that was her name) had a celestial figure in her. Her breasts were bigger than mine possibly because she was older than I was. But her movement also showed maturity. Her dusky body obeyed every motion of her lover's. A strand of her jet black curly hair lay on top of her face and every thing she did seemed natural to her. 

By looking at Edward's face, I could see the masculine lust, the overpowering sense of mating. Soon enough he laid her down and entered her from behind. Gripping Ragini's luscious, long curly hair he smacked his body into hers. Ragini wasn't petite like me, therefore, even after trying they could not muffle the metronomous 'clap' sounds. It was quite visible that Edward had no issues bedding an Indian native woman on the very first night and although I knew our marriage was more of an alliance between our families, Edward still should've respected the sanctity of the union. This chicanery would not go unpunished. 

Their copulation continued a few minutes afterwards. Edward had now placed her down on the bed with her back facing him. This time he was more intimate, kissing her from time to time while caressing her neck and at times even choking her. Ragini was doing everything a woman would. How could she deny her master? Abnegating his wishes would only make her miserable. Being a servant, she could not deny him and it looked like this union was more just the result of Edward's lust. He wasn't treating her like a whore as I had hoped but like a lover. This was something which hurt more than the actual affair.

As I continued to gaze through the room window for over half an hour I sensed that Ragini was moaning ever so loudly. Sensing this change in her, Edward started to motion faster. After a few seconds my husband had finished. Inside her, I might add. 

I walked back to my room as soon as the commotion acquiesced. My heart was broken as my husband had already shown how unfaithful a man he had become. But I was a woman after all. I was supposed to tolerate it no matter how much anger it raised in my chest. That rainy night when I walked back to my room, broken-hearted, I felt a tinge of jealousy, an ounce of hatred rising from within me. To be betrayed like this and that too by my own husband was scandalous and revolting.

As I lay in my bed acting to sleep like I was in a play I heard some commotion from Edward's room. Suddenly his door swung open and out came running Ragini (the seductive bedswerver), adjusting her saree, with her disheveled curly hair. She looked beautiful I must confess and even the most conservative clothing couldn't have hidden the highs and lows in her features. She was followed by my swindling husband who came running behind her and grabbed her near a pillar before she could escape his gaze. I must remind the reader that all this was happening right across the corridor from my room and I occupied the best seat for this drama which was unfolding like a work from Shakespeare.

After gently pushing her towards the pillar, Edward started to whisper something in her ears. Obviously she wouldn't have understood what he was saying but neither could I so this was just something I thought to be true. Soon enough he was stuck again to her neck. Ragini too did not seem to prevent it from happening. Her face did not even show a single sign of demureness. She just adjusted her neck and gave him more space to continue his infidelity. After a few moments they parted and while Edward went back inside his bedroom, I lay wide awake, shaken and wounded to my very soul. I wanted revenge but I was powerless. For the first time in my life, I felt truly alone during a crisis that affected me dismally.

My husband and I met for breakfast that morning. 

"Good morning husband." I said with a pleasant smile drifting across my face.

"Good morning honey. How was your night? Did you sleep well! I heard there was a thunderstorm?"

"Oh yes, dear. There was; One!" After replying I gazed at his face to make some kind of eye contact which was vehemently denied from his side.

"You know how heavily I sleep. Even if the heavens had fallen it would still require an entire battery of soldiers to wake me!" He joked. 'Jester to overlap your adultery', I thought to myself. Lord knows how I wanted to gouge his eyes out with my own hands! He wasn't even a man, he couldn't even look me in the eyes. That is when I knew that I had married a cuckold.

Post-breakfast both my husband and I busied ourselves with work. He went to his office which was in the nearby town whereas I was stuck at home; knitting. Padmini, the governess, and I soon took a break from our knitting crusade. As the weather was still overcast and a mildly chilly wind blew across the land; I decided to take a walk around our plantation.

Draping on a sweater and a woolen scarf, I accompanied Padmini on a casual stroll around our bucolic surroundings. We soon found shelter near a Banyan tree which faced the plantation. As I sat down on a bamboo chair, gazing towards the peasants labouring away, I felt a sense of ease. It was possibly due to the calm weather. The wind was ever so gentle as if kissing you as it flew past. Much better than that notorious English howl that felt more like thorns scratching your skin than a gentle breeze.

While my eyes wandered out and about the fields, I noticed a man. He was dark skinned (like his compatriots) and broad chested. He was working a few yards away from where I was seated and therefore he wasn't too far for me to examine. He was tall, probably a few inches taller than my husband (I would say that he was anywhere between 6'-6'4") and looked authoritative. He had a huge chest and a lot of muscles in his arms and the back too was remarkably shaped. Conclusively, he looked like a hard-working farmer. But what separated him from the rest was his youth and natural beauty. Not a single hair was on his face and with light brown eyes and chiseled jaw, he was certainly pleasing on the eyes.

I looked away and scoffed at my own behaviour. 'Fantasising about a servant. Oh poor you', I said to myself. There was no way that he could stand up to my stature or even to the stature of an English farmer. How could he? He was a peasant in British India. 

I tried my best to look away and gaze at something else. But whenever I tried, he would pop right back into my thoughts. So I would be forced to look back at him. Failing multiple times, I ultimately gave up and stared right towards him. His sweaty body as he toiled with his plough, his muscles moving with every movement he made, his pretty face; all seemed very attractive to me. For some reason, the more I examined, the more delighted I felt.

Padmini noticed me staring at him and said,

"His name is Giri Raj."

I looked at her, annoyed and replied:

"Did I ask Padmini?" Raising one of my eyebrows signalling my disapproval towards her displeasing interruption.

"Forgive me, memsahib. I was just-"

"Fetch me a glass of Nimboo-Pani, would you?" I interrupted. She got up fast and left, visibly hurt by my insult. But it was necessary. I did not like to be interrupted and she was having wrong ideas. 'What did she mean by stating his name? Did I ask?' I said to myself.

While she was away, my eyes again rolled back towards Giri Raj, for that was his name as we just learned. 'Awful name that is', I said to myself. Albeit I tried my best to get rid of the idea by shaming it, it just wouldn't pass my mind. Giri Raj was stuck permanently in my thoughts. Soon Padmini was back with a jug and a glass. We sat there for another hour but this time I engaged Padmini with small talk. I learned a little about the history of this place, the Hindu religion, caste, etc. When it started to get time for lunch I headed back to our bungalow.

On my way back I saw Ragini, the enchanted adulteress, watering the garden plants. As I got near her she bowed and saluted me with the 'memsahib'. It was then that I truly scrutinised her. Her dusky, almond coloured skin, her jet black wavy hair that reached her waist, those bewitching brown eyes and pouty lips, were all signs of attraction. Added to it was her voluptuous, developed figure (much more shapely than mine I might add), the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, her meaty legs and buttocks too. 'No wonder Edward couldn't keep his hands off of her', I thought to myself. Albeit she acted coy and demure in front of me, I knew that she was of the bewitching types who trapped weak men with their seduction and lust. And no man can resist this, the right woman can break any man and Edward was no different.

I smiled back at her and walked past her. Indeed I had got all that about her in only a few seconds. But I did know that it was all beyond me. Even if I wanted to, there was nothing I could do to stop my husband. He and I had only been in bed together thrice (all three times back in England), and albeit I had lost my virginity to him, I had become unattractive for some reason.

My mind continued to conspire against my husband as we had supper that evening. Giri Raj hadn't left my thoughts. The moment when I saw him, his muscles, his huge figure, his handsome face. These taboo thoughts just wouldn't leave my reverie and as I was pretending to eat food (I wasn't hungry at all) I could feel my knees going weak. I sensed my vagina quivering, literally, and a few moments later I had begun leaking. I immediately excused myself to the bathroom. 

I leaned over the bathroom door; my hands gilded south on my body and as I touched the lips, I felt a liquid just dripping down my thighs. I gasped at the sight and thought to myself, 'How could a brown servant boy do this to me without even a single touch?'

I cleaned my lust-wounds and rejoined my husband for supper. He and I rarely talked for a married couple. We had become estranged. The distance would only grow further after every passing night. He and Ragini were always in bed together every night. I would make my way to the window and watch them every single night. The passion between them was oddly satisfying to watch. Even though they did not speak a single word (for of course sex rises above linguistic barriers), their love-making would at times last for hours. It was almost like they were trying to enact the 'Kamasutra' every night.

Tonight too was no different. As expected, Ragini stood in front of his chambers at 11pm. She knocked. He opened and without wasting a second grabbed Ragini by the waist and pulled her inside his room. Ragini leapt out a squeak which was followed by a shushing sound by my husband who was obviously instructing her to be quiet.

It was a full moon night. I got up from my bed and made my way towards his bedroom window, as had become a regular custom for me night after night. By the time I stood in front of the open window both of them were completely naked. 

"This blasphemous scoundrel!" I grunted. Surprisingly they did not even turn their faces to look towards the source of this sound. I peeped back again, slyly like a chameleon. Edward was on top of her, with his penis deep inside her vagina. She would be moaning loudly if my husband hadn't planted his lips over hers. As he kissed her passionately, like ardent lovers do, I was amazed as to how both of them were so comfortable in performing such a hideous affair.

Ragini's breasts swayed as he thrusted inside her. Shaking wildly, those breasts had become a constant source of envy for me. I had a natural bust and I was proud of it because they amplified my beauty but they were not as big as hers. Ragini looked more mature, at least in shape, than me.

Their contrasting skin tones made the view even more exotic. She, being a lowly peasant woman and him being a white British army man were literally social opposites. This very act could've been easily termed blasphemous. 

Edward soon turned her around and entered her from behind. I noticed her turn her face around and as they both locked eye contact, she opened her mouth and let her tongue out. Without hesitating, my husband went for a passionate kiss. Their salivating mouths looked horrifying. I had never seen such a disgusting way of showing love towards your partner. But for them it acted as a catalyst. Edward breaking off his kiss started to pound her harder. Her big ass jiggled and so did her breasts. He gripped her waist tightly, almost too tightly as he unloaded inside her. Both of them leapt out a moan of passion, a moan of shared passion between the two.

I suddenly knew that both of them saw each other as animals. There existed no social boundaries. He wanted her and she couldn't resist him. And even if they couldn't talk to each other during the day, during the nightly hours both of them could let their bodies communicate their love for each other. For some reason it stopped hurting me after a few days. I continued to watch them every night but forgot all about it the very next morning. Some would call this a very sorry state of existence but over time, I started to wait for the night to arrive and to watch them copulate. I learned that this man of mine, my dear husband Edward Owen, wasn't someone I loved. In fact he was just an ordinary man.