The British Raj

A month had passed by quietly. Every new day became just like the previous one. There was nothing new, no spark to light up my morose, featureless existence. But it wasn't entirely uneventful. I still sat everyday near the farm to watch Giri Raj work. Even though there was only so much work that the farmers could do, I would waste no opportunity to invent work for them. My governess-Padmini, once gave me an excellent idea.

"Organise a kabaddi competition memsahib."

I pondered over it a few days and soon the entire village started to participate. It wasn't massive in scale but it did attract a few 20-50 people everyday. Had I known about this sport earlier, I would've exploited it to exhaustion. I got to see Giri Raj everyday, as he wrestled all the other fighters for my personal amusement. Padmini knew that I loved watching him, so she would do her best to put him against the best the village could offer. But to her dismay, none could outwrest Giri Raj.

It was during these Kabaddi games and wrestling matches, I learned that Giri Raj was popularly called as Giri. This was a relief, as I found it terribly hard to pronounce his name (which I did a lot because I lauded him immensely after every win). These events provided me with a small window of excitement in my otherwise monotonous and abhorrent life. 

Yet, there was still something missing. I wanted to be close to Giri and although I saw him everyday in the fields, I craved his arms around my waist, his lips on mine, my body beneath his as we made love. My passion for him was growing everyday. But I couldn't outright flirt with him. That would shatter my modesty and as a lady should act meek and coy in front of a man, it wouldn't make a lot of sense for me to outright fall for him. There was a second matter in question as well. Giri was a shy and prudent person. Add to it the fact his laconic vocabulary. He spoke very little and albeit his wrestling and violent persona depicted arrogance, he seemed to be the most gentlemanly man out there. I knew that it would have to be me. I would have to take the first initiative.

So one fine December morning, when my husband had left for a week-long business trip to Shimla (obviously Ragini accompanied him as a 'massager'), I invited Giri to my house. My intentions weren't in any way malicious. I just wanted to see him. That same day I decided to change the house interiors. So the drapery, the sheets etc had to be neatly arranged. In some rooms I altered the positions of bedsteads and tables. All this I accomplished with Giri. Yes, I made sure he was the only pair of hands that assisted me while I gave commands.

Axiomatically, the hard work had made him tired and I ordered water and a few sandwiches for him. I saw him drink and eat after that exhaustive round of work. Even on a cold December afternoon, Giri was sweating a lot. I witnessed a solitary stream of sweat flow down his forehead, past the eyebrows and across his cheeks and drip down his jaw. It was at this moment that I felt a sudden wave of trance zip through my body. I also started to leak a little from my vagina. All from just seeing a man.

I continued to aim my gaze towards him as he ate and drank, only once or twice did he raise his head to see me staring at him. He would do nothing. But as soon as he got up to leave, I stood up and paced towards him; I planted the most gentle and the most soft and affectionate kiss on his cheek. At this, he suddenly darted back a few steps, shocked at what I had done and to make it any less embarrassing I said:

"Thank you Giri." He just bowed his head and did not say a single word back. I extended my hands and pointed to the plates.

"No memsahib." He said with guilt and turned around to march out of the room. 

He walked towards the kitchen while I stood in front of my bedroom door, processing what had just happened. Soon I saw him crossing the living room and as he entered the frame, he turned his head towards my direction and smiled. I returned back the courtesy and walked back inside my room and locked the doors.

I went straight to the mirror and noticed that my cheeks had gone pink as I blushed in passion. 'Oh God, did he notice?' I asked myself embarrassingly. I couldn't help but let loose a small smile like a teenage girl ecstatic about a fling with her partner. And yet I was lightyears away from Giri. I didn't know why I kissed him and even if I tried, I knew I wouldn't be able to come up with an accurate answer. However what I did notice was a sudden change in my mood. The incident had unlocked a prison of feelings I had long ignored and kept trapped. Giri seemed to bring me joy.

Days passed and I started to dress better even though I had no one to impress. I started to wear frock coats with straight trousers, you know all that Victorian stuff. Nothing truly changed and only after a few days of adventurous attempts, I abandoned them, coming back to the simple frocks and sweaters which I had knit for myself. I also made Giri, a permanent household helper, and with him always inside the house I made him accustomed to seeing me and being around me. It took him time but he adjusted very well. I also started to understand him as a person and analysed his habits such as his wake up time and how he prayed each morning to the sun during sunrise. And it was on the night before my husband's return that I sanctioned my plot.

Edward had to return tomorrow. But tonight was the beginning of something new. Years spent being ignored and walked upon were over. I had to take charge of my life and I had to make decisions for myself. Decisions that would make me content. Being a woman, there was a little hesitation on my behalf. If I was caught then surely that would be the end of me. I would certainly be banished from society and everyone I loved would abandon me for good.

Despite this, my heart and soul craved attention. It also craved the touch and warmth of a man I loved. Edward wasn't that man and even if he was, his interests lay in someone else. Thus, it made good sense for me to also move on from him. If he wasn't interested in me then I wouldn't be interested in him. Like a snake, I had selected my mate with careful examination and I wanted him. Giri was that mate.

After supper I made everyone leave. To avoid any suspicion, I employed Giri to wash the dishes. The house soon was silent. Only the occasional cackling of local animals, a distant but gentle breeze blew. The clear night sky was lit up by the generous gift of moonlight. I sat in my bedroom, waiting for him to come to me and ask my permission to retire. But tonight there would be no rest, for either of us. As I gazed out of the window into the night sky dotted with numerous stars, I heard approaching footsteps. I fidgeted in my chair, adjusted my hair and my robe hurriedly as I sensed the footsteps approaching towards me. 

The footsteps stopped in front of my door and for a whole two seconds there was pin-drop silence. It felt as if an eternity had passed between them. Soon enough those two knocks aborted the omnipresent quietude.

"Memsahib, the dishes are done." Said the person standing beyond the door. His voice was heavy and low, like a man's.

"Alright darling!" I replied instantaneously. By now my mouth had gone dry. I stood up and walked towards my bedstead and waited.

"May I go home, memsahib?" Asked the voice in a very broken English. I stood gazing at the door. His torso was clearly visible beneath the door as it covered the lamp light.

"In a moment Giri, but first come inside." I replied. There was another pause. I started to huff and puff as my breathing increased its pace. The door swung open. Giri stood frozen right in front of me. He was only wearing a dhoti and a woolen sweater. A gamcha adorned his neck. His preserved face locked on me and his eyes met mine.

I was only wearing a white cotton robe. It wasn't very difficult to see through it. I watched his eyes go through my torso. My soft smooth breasts, my velvety silken thighs and skin. He soon turned his attention back towards my face. I had done my best. I had tied my hair up in a lazy bun with many strands left free to float. It gave a very leisurely and lackadaisical vibe. Suddenly I saw him flinch and come back to his senses.

"I'm sorry, memsahib. I just came inside to ask for permission to go home." Sensing the rising tension, I walked towards Giri. That seductive approach might have shocked him enough to not make any move but just stand there. My noble eyes looked at him hungrily. A gentle breeze flew around his torso and hit my face. Naturally the loose strands started to dance with the wind.

"You're not going home tonight Giri." I said and stood on my toes, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He didn't do or say anything. Emboldened by his reaction I kissed him again. I could clearly see his eyes move swiftly here and there as he analysed the repercussions of this event. He could be killed for this. Having sex with a white British woman was the biggest crime in the land as dangerous as a murder. To ease him, I said:

"This is just for us." This probably did the trick because as I said this to him he picked me in his strong arms and carried me to my bed.

He climbed on top of me and before anything would stop us, our tongues had collided. I felt his strong arms grip my slender waist as we kissed. He squeezed it passionately as I let out a soft moan. I began stroking his hair. Our kisses were sloppy with saliva oozing out of our mouths but we didn't stop for that was the least of our worries. Just like that we had committed the greatest of sins either of us could. If we were caught then our lives would surely come to a violent and quick conclusion. But that Taboo feeling this generated made us more passionate. A certain kind of fire was burning within our hearts which couldn't be extinguished by societal morals or cultural pressures. It was more biological than anything. We were like mating partners coiled around each others' bodies, busy with doing what animals were designed to do.

A few minutes afterwards we were both naked and he was about to enter me. As I lay beneath him, I glanced down south towards where the action was about to happen. His organ was monstrously massive, as thick as my wrists and at least eight inches long. Without a doubt this specimen which stood hard and eager to enter me was the largest I had ever seen. I squeaked at the size and he looked at me. He must've clearly seen the worried expression on my innocent face. He said nothing and kissed me. After that he just looked at me as if asking for permission. I nodded.

He proceeded very softly and before even half of him was inside me I gasped for breath. For the first time, I was truly stretching beyond my limits. He knew that my moans would only grow louder, hence, he proceeded further into a virgin territory. My husband wasn't even half his size and I truly knew now how big they could really get. His brawny hands gripped my tender ones as he pinned me into the bed. Our gaze never shifted from one another. My mouth was wide open as I leapt out loud moans every time he pushed inside me. It felt as if someone's entire arm was rifling my insides. But thankfully he was gentle with it.

My juices were leaking and after every few thrusts I would leak a massive amount of juice. Clearly he had worked his charm against me. Us doing this on the first occasion assured me that we both were wanting this for a long time. When I looked at him, he did not look like an inferior human to me, he did not look like a slave. Albeit our skins were differently pigmented but we felt like equals. That animal instinct inside us made us feel one and the same. How could I refrain from him? We were so compatible together that there was no need for words while we made love to each other.

My slender frame was held firmly by his brawny, rough hands. We found ourselves side by side with each other. He continued to gently penetrate me. I continued to moan out in ecstasy. 'Ahnn. Uhhnn. Yaasss.' These were the only human sounds that filled the room. I looked at him. We were both sweating profoundly for what seemed like an hour of copulation but in truth only thirty minutes had passed. I saw as he thrust in me with passion. His dark brown organ was amending my insides. I went close to him and kissed him as my neck arched back. As we lay to either side of each other, with his brawny hands tightly clutching mine, with him inside me; it was truly heaven. I felt loved after such a long time and as the house was empty we could do whatever we wanted with utmost freedom.

Thank God, we hadn't wasted our time in foreplay, there was no need for it. Our bodies just wanted to be stuck together. As we continued our copulation a sudden thought dawned on me. What if I got pregnant. I instantly looked him in the eye and said,

"Andar nahi girana!" With an innocent look on my face. I asked him not to 'finish inside me'. My lover nodded in affirmation. He must've been puzzled by that foreign accent of mine. I had been learning hindustani from Padmini for a few months now and I could speak it although not eloquently as of yet.

He was back on top of me again. This time he lay on top of me. Both our bodies were sweating like a fountain. My stomach literally felt like a lake of sweat. His arms were wrapped around me as he continued to thrust in me. My hands instinctively scratched his shoulders at times even drawing a little blood but that didn't distract my lover.

Feeling a strange sensation rise in me I opened up my legs further. Very soon I felt a strong ripple go through my body. I started to shake violently as I felt it ravage my entire torso. It was a very intense and strong feeling. Axiomatically, I started to kiss his neck as if to thank him for making me feel like that. I had never felt that with Edward but Giri seemed to bring out the best in me somehow.

With another few thrusts Giri extracted his penis and came hard on top of my stomach. Ropes after ropes of semen adorned my stomach, chest and a few strands had even struck my neck. After that he collapsed right beside me with one of his hands still gripping my left buttock. I had never felt like that in my entire life what Giri had made me feel in less than an hour. I continued to pant heavily while he dozed off without a concern.

I washed myself and came back to find him gone. My sheets were changed and a rose was left on my bed. Just like that our first night together had come to an end. We had hardly spoken any words while we played with each other and now just as quietly as he had come, Giri had vanished. Although I did appreciate the gesture of the rose, a sudden pang of anxiety and unhappiness hit me when I realised that my husband was to return tomorrow and I would be forced to return back to my sadden state once again. Remarkable, how happy a single night of passion had made me feel. That too by an Indian servant. A white woman like me should never have stained my race's name in such a manner and yet I had because it felt so right. It felt so natural.

A few days passed since our first night together. The environment now was more intense than it had ever been. Giri and I would occasionally lock gazes multiple times a day. I acted upon every opportunity to be near him. Quite contrary to what I expected, Giri was at his most professional around me. He always acted like a servant and did not even smile at me let alone embark in flirtations. I was perplexed but it wasn't long before it dawned on me why he was behaving that way. The simple answer? My husband was at home. If we were in the wild, a man like Giri would've easily been the alpha male due to his gigantic size and masculine features but it wasn't the wild we were living in- it was the human society.

Our attractions towards each other could not be justified under any circumstances. What we had already done was punishable by death. And knowing that any loose actions on my part could hurt him so badly, I too refrained from getting very close to him or showing any kind of unnecessary comfort in his presence. Only my heart knew what my body and soul craved so badly. It wouldn't be long before my heart would fall for him. I knew it. It was only a matter of time.

As my husband continued to work in the day, I busied myself with the household work and also rekindled my hunger for literature: my first love. Ever since I read my first book at the age of six, I wanted to become a writer. Through the years I had honed my skills and constant practice had made me a master in storytelling. There was but one flaw in me- my sex. I was a woman. Whenever I expressed myself faithfully to my parents I was shunned. With time that love for reading and that passion for writing faded away and I was left a plain character in the body of a sombre but beautiful British woman. My marriage didn't help either. 

Edward wasn't even a partner let alone a faithful husband. Every night the sounds of him and Ragini consumed the corridors and the walls literally laughed at me for marrying such an adulterer. Now those nights where I lay crying on my bed engulfed by absolute pain and misery, were replaced by the nights where I dreamt about Giri and slept peacefully. For some reason a single night had helped me expose my creative side. I was happy once more.

One lonely night as I sat at my desk writing I hosted a rare visitor.

"How are you doing my love?" Asked Edward. He had on his routine white shirt and black pants. I looked up at his face. I realised how seldom I ever observed his face. There were new creases in his foreheads which I knew did not exist. Quite shamefully I could easily see the love marks on his neck which he hadn't cared to hide. His shirt buttons were open which revealed his hairy chest, something which he greatly prized as a result of his maturity.

"Nothing much. You'd be glad to know that I've taken up writing once again." I said breaking eye contact and busying myself with my work before he said something that greatly upset me.

"Once again?" He mocked, "Did you write earlier too? I don't seem to remember darling." When he said 'darling' it pricked my heart. He had long lost that privilege. There was an obvious grin stretching across his face. I would say it was God that stopped me from piercing his eyeballs with my inked quill.

"I did Edward. Before marriage, I was quite an artist. And I had told you all about it countless times before our wedding."

"Interesting. I might have forgotten. Now, would you care to join me for supper?"

"I wouldn't mind dear husband."

"Good, I'll have the cutlery arranged. Come soon." Saying this he turned around with his macho suave which looked horrible at best I must admit. 

Soon enough I sat beside him waiting for food. We made minimal chatter which concluded as soon as that. We had hardly anything in common. Moments like these made me curse my luck. 'If only I was born somewhere else!'

The evening slowly faded and the overcast weather blanketed the sky. Thick fog swept over the Gangetic plains. A thunderstorm was approaching. The Governess Padmini entered along with that witch Ragini, holding plates.

Inquisitively I looked at my husband. His eyes glowed when he saw Ragini enter the room. Like an obedient servant she went straight towards Edward while the Governess arranged my cutlery. I could distinctly hear them whisper. What about, I did not know. In the end when all was done Ragini looked at him and smiled, he smiled back. 'You shameless swine', I said to myself. To do this in front of his own wife was pathetic. It was then that I realised: I hated my husband. Forget dislike, I hated him like an enemy.

Soon enough the meal was over and we had retired back to our lonely chambers. After spending a few minutes trying to write, I got up and went to bed. Alas, another dreadful day had come to an end.