My Indian Summer

(This is a work of fiction and all characters are above the age of consent. It is a contemporary story drawing from the current situation with two characters, and I attempt to alternate between their perspectives.)

1.Village Belle.

He.

I had summer break from college and mom suggested that I take the opportunity and visit my aunt's place up in the hills. She was my mom's younger cousin sister, and though technically my aunt, she was not much older than me. I had fond memories of her visits to our grandfather's ancestral home, during summer vacation, which coincided with our own. I loved having her around as she indulged me to the hilt, playing with me, telling me stories, feeding me delicacies she had cooked and even putting me to sleep.

It was the most vivid childhood memory that I retained, even after all these years I could still recall her distinctive perfume which made me feel so at ease, wafting across me as I slept in her lap. Her visits stopped after she started to go to college, and we lost touch as her father got a transfer up north. She had gotten married about a year back, but as I had my exams I wasn't able to attend it.

Six months ago, she had undergone a personal tragedy, when the ship on which her husband was stationed had gone missing in a storm and was never located. She was pregnant at that time and the shock had caused her to suffer a miscarriage, but she had borne it with great fortitude, refusing all help and staying all alone in a secluded farm up in the mountains that they had made their home.

She had extended an invitation to the whole family to visit her, but due to other commitments and the hectic pace of life, none of us had been able to make it. Mom knew that I was her favorite,and asked me when I was home from the holidays, whether I would like to go. I was bored with the heat, and jumped at the chance for a getaway to refresh myself before getting back to my books.

So preparations were made and tickets booked for a fortnight with my childhood favorite. Whatever apprehensions that I might have had about seeing her after all those years melted away, hearing the excitement in her voice over the phone. Being reticent, I could hardly get a word in edgeways. Afterwards, I was subject to much ribbing from my mom, about the innocent remarks that I had made in my younger days, that I would get married to her when I grew up, making me blush in embarrassment.

That night I couldn't sleep due to my excitement, the sound of her voice and the tinkling laughter, bringing back memories of my childhood days and a whiff of her perfume once more. I wondered if she would recognize me and I her, after all these years. I was a boy no more, and she, a married woman. I was apprehensive that the easy informality that we shared would cease to exist. I feared that it would be replaced by an awkwardness accentuated by my inherent reticence.

She was the only girl that I had talked with, usually being introverted and tongue tied in the presence of those of the fairer sex. I wondered if I had made a mistake in saying yes, doubting myself again, almost backing out. But the enthusiasm that was evident in her voice, made me rethink and put these doubts aside. If I could make her happy again, even for a moment, it would be worthwhile to bring a smile again to the face which had given me much joy, and which had been burdened by a mountain full of woes in the not so distant past.

And so it was with an air of expectation, tempered with a dose of trepidation, and conflicting feelings raging in my mind I embarked on a journey that would take me further than I had ever imagined that I would. Weighed down with a bag load of provisions and homemade delicacies that mom had insisted on packing for the journey, as if I was going to an expedition in an unknown barren wasteland. It left me with just a backpack into which I just managed to stuff my clothes and other basic necessities. Besides the rations, that could feed an army, were a earful of instructions and advice. I journeyed forth on what would be the greatest adventure of my life, little anticipating what a momentous difference, an impetuous decision had the capacity to make.

She.

The past year had been a roller coaster ride, from the highs of being on top of the world to having your dreams crash all around you. I had a dream wedding and a great start to marital life up in the hills, enjoying the delights of conjugal bliss, subsisting on little else but love and fresh air. Our happiness knew no bounds when I learnt that I was in the family way and our love had borne fruit.

But it was tempered with the wistfulness of his departure, as his shore leave was over, and he had to report for duty back again. But I didn't fret, as he had promised to be back to witness the birth of our child. Little did I know, as I tenderly kissed him goodbye, that it would be the final farewell. In a cruel twist of fate that amplified life's vicissitudes, that would be the last I ever saw of him and it would leave a gaping wound where my heart used to be.

I remember that day quite vividly as I was in the kitchen, humming a tune to our unborn child as I went about my work, and the phone rang. On hearing the words from the other side, the world started spinning around me, and I collapsed to the floor in a heap.

When I came to, I found myself lying in a pool of blood and a sharp pain in my belly. In a daze I managed to call for help, and spent the next week in a hospital, shattered with the knowledge that I had lost my baby as well as my husband in the course of a single day.

His ship had been caught in a storm and had disappeared off the map without a trace. I had lost all will to live, and had become numb, unfeeling. My family who had rushed to my side, on hearing about the tragedy, pleaded with me to return back with them to my maternal home, but I was adamant of going back to my farm.

My mom wanted to accompany me there and stay with me to help me cope, but I would hear nothing of it. I needed to go through it on my own to deal with my inner demons and make peace with them, coming to terms with my loss. I didn't want my close family to get even a whiff of the heartache I was experiencing, though I really didn't have the will to live anymore.

It was a winter that had stripped away all the colors from my life, and I just went through the motions, like a zombie without any enthusiasm for anything. There was an emptiness, a dull ache that felt I was being torn apart, but even the tears refused to flow. Those were dark days and I let myself go, not bothering about my appearance or any social contact whatsoever.

My parents used to call everyday, concerned about my well being and as much as I pretended to be okay, they realized I was not, and made me promise at least to take care of my nutrition and health. It was then that something deep down inside of me awakened, prompting me to snap out of the morose state, if not for myself, then for family. I pulled myself together, getting myself back into shape, busying myself in work, with a vengeance, not wanting to give myself time to mope.

But though I didn't have time to grieve there was still a sadness deep down within me. The cold nights were particularly painful, as sleep was difficult to come by alone, missing his warm body next to mine, and the pleasures of the flesh that my body had become accustomed to, with dreams of his insatiable appetite and tender touches making me awaken in a hot flush, wet and desperate for fulfillment.

My breasts had been quite tender and full and I needed to express my milk to give them relief, otherwise they would ache terribly. I contacted the local hospital and volunteered my services for a milk bank for babies.

The snow thawed and the first shoots of green pushed out after a long hibernation, heralding the arrival of a season of renewal and hope. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of tasks that needed to be done, when I got a call out of the blue from my cousin. She said her son was home for the holidays, and if it was okay with me, could he visit me for a fortnight before his college started.

It brought back a slew of memories of my younger carefree days when I had spent every summer at our grandfather's house. Her son was my favourite, and I had fond recollections of those happy days, eating, playing and having fun. I recall how I would blush in embarrassment, when he insisted he would marry only me. It would feel so nice to be loved, in spite of the teasing that I got from the family.

I hadn't seen him for years and wondered if he would even remember me. I was so excited that I was yakking away non stop as if I was dying to let all the words out that were close to overflowing, after a season full of monosyllabic conversation. He came on the phone and said a shy hello, before passing the phone back to his mother.

For the first time in months I had something to look forward to and it felt like spring had finally arrived, my mind blooming with a joy that found itself to my lips. I found myself humming a song as I danced around the house doing the chores which didn't seem like an insufferable burden any more. There was a lot of work to be done to get everything back into shipshape in the few days left until his arrival, but I didn't mind, in fact I was eagerly anticipating it counting down the days unable to bear the wait.

That night I undressed and surveyed myself in the mirror, looking at myself again for the first time after that fateful day. Though I was guilty of neglecting myself, I didn't look half bad as I struck a bevy of poses, some sexy, some seductive, practicing a come hither look that even had me wet between my legs. I was all aglow like a blushing bride before her honeymoon.

Though my unruly hair required a trim, my eyes were twinkling with happiness and my face had regained it's vivacity, with a smile playing on my lips. My skin was warm despite the night chill, and was covered in a slew of goose pimples across it's smooth surface more out of anticipation rather than the temperature. My breasts had really filled out and my nipples standing out like nubs from the dark pink areola. Lower down my belly was ensconced in rolls of fat that accentuated my cute navel at it's center. Going below, my slit was covered with jungles of tendrils growing wild which could do with some serious landscaping. My hips were curvy and mature and my bottom round and smooth. My thighs were toned and tapered down to my smooth knees and firm calves ending at feet that would kill, after a good manicure.

I looked irresistible and still had the charms to lure them in. I only had a nagging feeling of guilt, as to whether such sexual thoughts were appropriate. After all he was my cousin's son and I was supposed to be a grieving widow, but then I assured myself that loving yourself is no sin.

The next few days I buzzed around as busy as a bee, getting the place, and more importantly myself back into shape.The day before he arrived, the house was looking inhabitable again, and I got down to the business of some serious self care. I gave my tresses a trim and then treated myself to a luxurious massage with almond oil, lathering it all over my body and then rubbing it in, opening every pore, reveling in the feeling of femininity and rousing erotic sensations, that I had imagined to be dead and gone.

I cleaned up the vestiges of hair from my armpits and focused on clearing the undergrowth that obscured my loins. Slowly but surely my treasure pot hidden from view came into focus once more, Soon my mound was smooth as a baby and I felt a whole decade younger, and virginal once more. My bud stirred up as my hands caressed it, and my lips were wet as my fingers dipped into their warm depths.

I closed my eyes as the warm water ran over my body, and my mind drifted back to my wedding night, when I transformed from a girl into a woman. As my fingers simulated his movements within me, as I opened up like a flower in bloom. I needed relief so badly, and before I knew it, my whole body shuddered as months of pent up sexuality gained release. As I orgasmed, I visualized him making me complete, and cradling me in his arms once more. After a luxurious bath I indulged in some more self love, and got the best sleep that I had for months waking up refreshed and a new woman to the start of a new day.

I got to work immediately, rustling up his preferred meal. After a bath, I changed into my favorite saree, and opened my makeup kit for the first time in six months, applying, kohl, rouge, perfume, and lip gloss, looking more enchanting than ever, comfortable in the knowledge that my charms were intact, in fact stronger than ever. If looks could kill, an entire army would lie slain at my feet in a trice. Content with that knowledge I paced up and down anxiously, eagerly awaiting his arrival.

He.

It was a day's journey by train, a few hours onward by bus to the nearest town up in the hills from where I took a cab for another hour's journey for the final leg to her farm about 40 kms away, tucked away in the mountains. The mountain air was cool, crisp and refreshing. Whatever doubts or misgivings I had harbored, were all blown away. I closed my eyes, trying to dredge up hazy memories from the recesses of my mind of my childhood days with her around.

Mom had made at least a dozen phone calls since I had embarked on my trip to make sure I was doing well and was okay. I was a bit irritated, but knew it was a well meaning motherly concern that never goes away. The instructions to her place were quite clear and explicit, and she had warned me that the Wi-Fi and signal in the remote part of the mountain tended to be a bit iffy, but I wasn't a child anymore.

I traveled back to more than a decade back trying to patch up my quilt of memories, some quite clear, others hazy. I used to call her Di and she called me Chotu. I recollected her thin wiry frame, hair oiled and in pigtails, with a red ribbon at the end, dressed in a skirt and a shirt, glass bangles on her wrists. Her eyes so full of kindness and a smile constantly playing on her lips. were something that I remembered the most.

I would follow her all around like a little lamb, that was when she wasn't carrying me around. When she was around nobody else mattered, as she would pamper me like a baby, feeding me with her own hands, saving the choicest of morsels and delicacies for me. She insisted on bathing me, as I blushed at the memory of her seeing me in the nude, and I would sleep in her lap in the hot afternoon as she told me delightful tales that fascinated me. At night too, we would sleep together and I would insert my hand in her sleeve as I cuddled up next to her warm body, feeling comfortable and secure in her embrace.

I was jolted out of my reverie as the cab reached its destination and halted, coming to a stop. I heard my name being called and saw her waving out to me clad in a beautiful maroon saree. I was dumbstruck at the vision of beauty that greeted me like an apparition out of the mist. I got the luggage out and settled the bill as she rushed towards me, and enveloped me in a tight hug.

I felt a bit awkward as I was a kid no more, but was immediately transported back to my childhood, cocooned in her embrace. The eyes and the smile were still the same, though I could discern a tinge of sadness that permeated them. But she had filled out and had the most amazing curves, looking so ravishing that would put even a supermodel to shame.

As she put her arms around me, I could smell her distinct aroma once more, but a little more mature flavor, that made me close my eyes as I inhaled her essence. She was so soft and warm, that I felt a hard on coming up, despite my best efforts and stepped back a bit before she discerned it, and chided me for being a pervert.

She was so chatty, that I didn't get a word in sideways, asking me why I was so quiet. It delighted me to hear her tinkling laughter, when I replied that she hardly gave me the opportunity to open my mouth. She insisted on carrying the humongous bag that my mom had filled with the provisions, despite my protestations, as we walked the kilometer through hillside pathways to reach her farm.

She.

I was eager and anxious, awaiting his arrival, but didn't want to call him, knowing that his mom must have made enough calls for the entire extended family, without me adding to his woes. I decided to meet him at the main road and messaged him once I was there in good time, so that he would not have to struggle to locate my farm.

This was the first time I had ventured out again after my return from hospital, and I thought what an eerie sight, I would have presented, a woman dressed to her nines on a deserted mountain road, straight out of one of those ghost stories that we girls used to tell each other at those late night sleepovers to frighten the living daylights out of each other.

I sat down on a boulder, and my mind traveled a decade back to our last summer together at our village home. I was an only child, and loved the time I spent at my grandparents house, where all us cousins would meet up for the holidays. I was the youngest amongst them all, with a gap of at least 12 years between me and the next youngest. I felt a little strange as they were all married whilst I was still in school, and didn't have much in common except a shared ancestry.

But I looked forward to those days, only for the time with Chotu, besides whom I didn't need anything or anybody. He was the only one remotely close to my age, and fascinated me completely. So much so that I was very possessive about him, not even letting his mother near him as he occupied my entire day. I wondered if he remembered anything of those days, as he was just a toddler, and tried to imagine how much he might have changed and whether I would recognize him and he, me.

A car stopped a few meters away, and a strapping young lad got out to unload the luggage. Though his physical dimensions had changed, and he was not a waif anymore that I could carry in my arms, (probably the reverse would hold true with a physique toned and muscled, like a Greek God). I could recognize that unruly mop of hair, those piercing eyes and that shy smile from even a mile away, and chided myself for thinking such inane thoughts.

I was so excited to see him again after so long that I ran towards him in my saree, not caring about any decorum, or how funny I must have looked. I enveloped him in a tight hug and had half a mind to kiss him, but sensed an awkwardness, as he backed away, ever so slightly and was glad I didn't go overboard in my glee.

I tried to hold back my tears as I hugged him, and discerned that he was feeling the same way too. I have this foible, whenever I am stressed to talk non stop to distract my mind from whatever anxiety it may be experiencing at that moment. I began to yak away, with a backlog of 6 months of quietude exacerbating my quota of verbosity.

He was dumbstruck and dazed, not expecting a storm to hit him with such ferocity. He was walking behind me, at first I thought it was because he wanted me to lead the way, but a backward glance confirmed that he was checking out my derriere. I smiled to myself, not wanting to make it more awkward than it already was, keeping it a secret. I saw him stealing a glance at me, with a look that I couldn't quite comprehend, quickly looking away when his eyes met mine.

Then it struck me, that my Chotu was no longer small and seemed to be a bit smitten by the charms that I seemed to still possess. I too found him to be an improved beta version, and besides weren't we all adults now, a look is hardly a crime. But I was glad to see him again, the intervening decade melted into nothingness, to continue from where we had left off. I loved the simple beauty of the hills, but I wondered if he would miss the comforts of home.