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Durga Puja, the worship of the Goddess Durga, is one of the biggest festivals in India. Spread over five days, it is a time when people come home, families reunite, gifts are exchanged and everyone has a good time. In addition to the celebration in regular temples, many local communities build temporary temples, called pandels, and celebrate the puja on their own. Aligned to the Hindu luni-solar calendar, the festivities commence on the sixth day of the bright fortnight of the Hindu solar month of Aswhin (Sep-Oct) with the arrival of the Goddess. Festivities close on the tenth day of the fortnight with departure of the Goddess or the immersion of the idol in the nearest large water-body. Hence the celebration begins on SashThi (6th day) and runs through Saptami (7th), Ashtam (8th) and Navami (9th) with Dashami (10th) reserved for the departure. In addition to the religious ceremonies, Durga Puja is also when most magazines bring out special Puja editions containing Durga themed articles, stories and poems. This novel is written in the same spirit and is set in the picturesque locale of Topchanchi, a small town on a lake at the foot of the Parasnath Hills in Jharkhand, India.
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It had been a long day for Rudra and his mother Ritu but finally, at the cow-dust Godhuli hour of the gathering dusk, they reached Rudra’s ancestral home at Topchanchi. The lights on the Topchanchi dam were already twinkling but the autorickshaw that they were travelling in turned away from that tourist destination and dropped them in front of a rather forbidding looking house on the edge of the lake. Across the water, the Parasnath hill rose up against the western sky that was still ablaze with the rays of the setting sun.
It was the middle of October and a late Durga Puja was around the corner. Today was Panchami and the roads were already crowded with people going to the local puja pandel that had been constructed next to the house. Even though the bodhan, the commencement, of the puja on Sashthi was still a day away, the pandel had already been inaugurated and people, particularly youngsters in bright new clothes, were thronging the area. Loudspeakers were playing current hindi film songs that were suitably appropriate for the joyous arrival of the Devi and her entourage.
But the house that they had come to was sombre and seemingly detached from the festive air outside. Rudra unloaded the two strolley bags from the auto while Ritu went up to the main gate and rattled the lock that was hanging on a chain. No one appeared so they pushed the gate apart just enough for them to squeeze through. They were in a big, walled in garden and a path led to the door of a house that was visible through the trees. Lights on the windows meant that there were people in it and so the two of them walked up to the main door and knocked again.
A big, beefy and decidedly thuggish looking man opened the door.
“What do you want?”
“We are coming from Bombay and we are here to meet Thakur-saab.” Ritu answered as politely as possible, referring to her father-in-law in the traditionally respectful way of addressing a Rajput in Bihar, now Jharkhand.
“Why?” He was carrying a double barrel breech loading gone on his shoulder and his tone was that of a shooter or bodyguard.
“That is something that I will tell him myself.” Ritu’s voice hardened with the authority of government officer addressing a minion. “Just tell him that Riturani is here with his grandson Rudra.”
The tone worked. The man’s body language softened. He opened the door and pointed them to a rough bench that was visible in the room behind the door.
“Chotu.” He shouted, “Come here.” Another loutish character appeared from somewhere inside. “Please attend to these visitors. I will go and talk to Thakur-saab.”
Chotu was obviously here not to welcome but to keep an eye on them while his boss Budhia went inside to inform the Thakur.
Rudra and Ritu found themselves in a rough and rude passage that was poorly lit by some newly installed bursa escort LED lamps. But they did not have to wait too long because Budhia was back soon and waved them into a larger drawing room. This was well lit with chandeliers and had numerous antlers and deer-heads on the wall – all testimony to the hunting prowess of the current and possibly previous owners. There were big sofas spread around and a number of deep armchairs. Obviously, this is where the Thakur-saab entertained his guests. No sooner had mother and son settled themselves when the Thakur walked in.
He was another big, beefy man with a flowing mane of white hair that would have come down to his shoulders were it not for a band that kept it at the nape of his neck. He was broad at the shoulder and his well muscled arms were tattooed with symbols of violence. Age and alcohol had given him an ungainly paunch but had left untouched the natural meanness and cruelty that was evident in his narrow, closely spaced eyes and sneering lips. All put together, not a very pleasant man to come across in the festive season.
“Ah! Riturani,” He chewed his words slowly. “So you have decided to come back to Topchanchi.”
“Yes. Thakur-saab.” Ritu was on her feet, as was Rudra, as they bent to touch his feet in the standard style of familial obeisance.
“But why after all these years?”
Yes. It had been years since Ritu was here and for Rudra it was of course the first time. Ritu’s mind went back more than twenty years ago when she, a tribal Santhal girl in her teens had fallen in love with Thakur’s son, Raghu and in a moment of playful mischief in the forests of Parasnath Hill had conceived Rudra. Much against his father’s wishes Raghu had married Ritu and had brought her into this very house. Perhaps things would still have turned out reasonably well but for the Thakur’s penchant for sexual excitement.
Raghu’s mother was still eminently fuckable but the Thakur had a penchant for voyeurism and the thought of seeing his cute new Santhali daughter-in-law being fucked had caught his imagination. So in the course of a drunken orgy, that was all too common in the Thakur household, he had tried to force his son, Raghu to strip his pregnant wife and fuck her in public. The episode had ended calamitously with Raghu’s mother hitting him on the head with a pot and Raghu and Ritu fleeing Topchanchi in the middle of the night and seeking refuge, first in Calcutta and then in distant Bombay.
Life had been tough for the young couple, especially after the birth of Rudra, but neither of them had ever bothered to seek any help from the family. What had compounded matters was that Raghu had suddenly died in an accident. But Ritu was a born fighter and had not only carved out a space for herself and her infant son in distant Bombay, but had also managed crack the civil services exam that had led her to a very significant government job.
But in all these years, Thakur-saab had shown no interest in their well being and Ritu had of course no interest in him or his affairs either. But of late, and out of the blue, she had pieced together certain facts from old letters that Raghu had exchanged with his mother that had piqued her interest and firmed her resolve to get to or recover what was her due. Raghu’s mother had of course died a few years ago – heartbroken with the irreconcilable differences between the arrogant Thakur and his stubborn DIL, but that had not deterred Ritu. She was here with a purpose but obviously she had no intention of revealing her hand. Not yet.
“Blood is thicker than water, Thakur-saab. I really want Rudra to reconnect with his ancestors and his heritage.”
“Good. Good. It’s always nice to see my grandson, Rudra” But actually Thakur was more interested in his mother and he was ogling her openly. Which was not strange because most people still did ogle at the forty plus Santhali woman. But Ritu was less of a woman and more of a girl. Tall and dusky, with large limpid eyes, high cheeks, full lips and a finely chiselled jawline, she had that sultry look that would bursa escort bayan have all but the most stoic of men wetting themselves in their sleep..
“I thought that it would be nice if I could bring Rudra here for the Pujas. After all, this is where he belongs to even though he has been born and brought up in Bombay.”
“Of course he is most welcome here …” and then as an afterthought, or perhaps otherwise, “You too are more than welcome here. How I wish Raghu and his mother was here as well.”
“We will not trouble you, Thakur-saab. We will quietly spend the Puja here and depart on Dashami … along with the Goddess.”
“No, no, no trouble at all.” Thakur was all honey-and-sweetness. “Budhia, Chotu please arrange for our bahu-rani and my grandson to be accomodated in our very best guest room.” Then turning to the mother-son duo, “Please take rest, you have had a long journey. We will have dinner together at around nine.”
The guest room that had been alloted to them was huge – more of a suite than a room and divided into two parts in the shape of an L. The first part and closer to the door was a sitting area with a sofa set, a divan and low tables. The other leg of the L was occupied by a huge bed with an ornamental headboard placed against the wall. Scattered around the room were antique furniture – a ladies writing table, smaller chairs, cabinets, and a chest of drawers all arranged in a slightly haphazard fashion along the walls and giving the room a crowded, cluttered look. But what was most interesting in the room were the giant, ceiling high windows that looked out on the Topchanchi Lake and the Parasnath Hills behind it. The windows had big, heavy curtains that fell all the way from near the ceiling right down to the floor. When pulled apart, the view was fantastic otherwise both privacy and darkness were complete.
The sun had set but the Panchami moon – on the fifth day of the bright fortnight leading into Durga Puja – was still shining on the western sky. Ritu was lying not on the bed, but on the divan at one end of the room, staring through the windows at the starry western sky.
“This is so nostalgic, kiddo. This is the room where your father and I had spent the few happy days at Topchanchi .. looking at the hill, the sky, across the lake.”
“Yes Ma. This is indeed so very tranquil and scenic.” The raucous music from the Durga Puja pandel somehow seemed so very distant.
“It’s also so very private … just you and me and the gathering darkness.”
Actually, the privacy was contrived. Soon after they had stepped into the bedroom, Ritu, as a thorough professional but more as an intuitive female had carried out a quick reconnaissance of the room and had spotted a tiny CCTV camera. It was hidden inside an alcove in the wall and pointing to the regal bed which would of course be the target for any amorous couple. Obviously the Thakur was used to spying on his guests. She could have casually thrown a shawl over the camera but that would have alerted the voyeur. Instead, she quickly figured out the range and angle of vision and moved the divan out of it so that her privacy was complete.
The privacy of the window facing divan was important because behind closed doors, Ritu and Rudra were far more than just mother and son! The genesis of their relationship lay in their years of loneliness and struggle when the two had had to face a hostile world where they had only themselves to cling to for company. The question of whether it was right or wrong, moral or immoral was no more of any consequence to them ever since they had reconciled themselves to an exciting relationship. It had begun with quiet and intimate hugs and snuggles, of soft tits, tight butts and hard pricks in clenched fists that had then graduated through short, scanty and finally no clothes. Things had finally come to a head when mother and son decided to celebrate Rudra’s eighteenth birthday at a beach resort in Goa. That was when the two had completely given themselves to each other, spending the entire day in their beach front cottage without escort bursa a stitch of clothing and exploring each and every way to achieve and experience ecstasy. Well, not really every way. Ritu was reluctant to have her son’s penis in her vagina – even with a condom or on her safe days – and had drawn a lakshman rekha around it. Which was fine for them since they had, even otherwise, so much to keep each other excited and entertained with.
Which is exactly what they were doing the darkened bedroom at Topchanchi!
There was a single chandelier glowing brightly over the disappointingly empty royal bed but it still cast a pattern of light and shadow on the divan that Ritu was lying on, on her belly, propped up on her elbows and watching the darkening sky.
“Thinking of Raghu and the way he used to fuck me is making me so very horny kiddo ..”
“Let me help you Ma.”
Since they had been on the road for so long, Ritu was wearing a two piece salwar kameez and Rudra had little difficulty in loosening her pajama-salwar cord and pulling it down. Next to go was the kameez and then there was Ritu in just her bra and pantie lying face down on the divan. Rudra sat down next to her and loosened her hair that had been tied up in a bun. Then he carefully unhooked her bra, pulled down her panties and gently ran his hands up and down her spine. Next he slid his hands under his mother’s breasts and gave them a light squeeze and felt the hardening of her nipples. Ritu whimpered, then all of a sudden she grabbed the long, body pillow – a small passbalish – and shoved it between her legs and started rubbing her cunt against it. A low moan gurgled out of her throat. Rudra knew what his mother wanted. He quietly pulled her up by her waist, folded her legs in a kneeling position so that her vaginal lips were clearly visible from behind and then lightly ran his finger through the crack of her cunt. Ritu gave a squeal of pleasure and jerked her buttocks. With one hand, Rudra grabbed his mother’s hair, pulled her head up until her back was bent like a bow. The fingers of his other hand were now pushing and probing into his mother’s cunt and rubbing the nub of the clitoris that she had so carefully shown to him! Ritu was in pure ecstasy as memories of being fucked by his beloved Raghu flooded through her. Rudra’s fingers were moist as well, as his mother’s juices flowed out of her.
Then Ritu turned her head, gave a naughty smile and ran her tongue across her lips. That was a signal for Rudra to stop fingering her cunt. Instead he quickly dropped his pants, pulled off his shirt and came around to the head of the divan where his mother was waiting to suck his erect penis. Ritu lovingly fondled her son’s balls, stroked his rock hard erection, gently pulled back his foreskin and flicked her tongue along the exposed crack of his glans. A shudder of excitement rippled up Rudra’s spine as he again bundled his mother’s hair in his fists, grabbed her head and pushed it against the hardness of his penis. Ritu opened her mouth and swallowed her son’s erection all the way in until it pressed against the back of her throat. Deep throat. For the next couple of minutes, Rudra hammered his erect phallus in and out of his mother’s mouth until with a muffled cry he suddenly started spewing his cum into her face. Ritu sighed in pleasure and turned flat on her back as her son dropped and draped his body across hers and buried his face in the thick tangle of his mother’s pubic patch. Ritu’s breasts were now crushed under Rudra’s belly and his hands pushed her thighs apart. For the next few minutes Ritu licked his son’s cum covered penis while Rudra tongue darted in and out of his mother’s vaginal crack until she too squirmed in pleasure, bucked her hips and shuddered in ecstasy.
For a few moments, mother and son relaxed with their faces in each other’s crotch. Finally Rudra slid off his mother’s body and helped her sit up.
“It was almost as if you father was fucking me here today, kid.”
“I am sure he was here in spirit.”
“But now we need to get ready to meet your grandfather ..”
“I wonder what he would have said if he knew why we are here.”
“But the bigger question is where do we start .. I was never as clueless as this before an assignment.”
“We will play it by ear Ma.”
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