The Village Is No Place for Girls

Hi everyone, this is my first attempt at writing a desi story. It is going to have a slow build up to the fun parts, so please have some patience.

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Sitapur was a picturesque rural setting at first glance, situated in Central India and untouched by most evils that comes along with modernism. With the main source of transportation being the Indian Railways that connects the small station of Sitapur to the rest of the country, the people still used bicycles, bullock carts and tempos during their day to day life. Gauri was the daughter of Raman Lal, the village school teacher who braved the traditional views and decided to send his daughter away to the big city for her college. The people of Sitapur while being proud of his decision, pondered upon the meaninglessness of it since a girls purpose was anyway to get married and have kids. That was three years back and now Gauri was a college graduate, the first girl from the village to have a degree and to everyone, which meant it was time for her to get married. While Gauri could resist the pressure from her parents when she was in college, once she was back in the village after being unable to find a job, her willpower was quickly overwhelmed by her relatives, and her marriage had been fixed to a young man from the neighbouring village.

Garima had met Gauri on the first day of college, and they had quickly become friends, even convincing the hostel warden to move them together into a room. After 3 years of friendship, Garima could only look on aghast as her friend was snatched away by marriage. Her own parents were more liberal, having lived their whole life in the city and willing to let their daughter build a career before trying to get her hitched. Nonetheless, when it came to the subject of her friend's wedding, and travelling to a far flung village, it took more than a few tantrums before her parents relented. Gauri's father had called up her parents to ensure her safety and the best hospitality they could provide, and Garima eagerly packed her bags before the big day, looking forward to travelling alone for the first time in her life.

Garima had a rough train ride. Her parents had come to see her off at the station, but she now found herself alone in the carriage as it crawled towards Sitapur. Within minutes of boarding the train, she realized she made a mistake wearing a tight light green dress, which hugged her figure and came to halfway down her thighs, and tight leggings. It was in no way risque in the city, but the population in the train seemed to come from a different background. She soon found herself the subject of lewd stares from the young men and disapproving looks from the older men as she sat in her seat. Even the ticket collector seemed to be trying to get a peek down her dress as he passed, taking a long time to check her ticket. It is only a few more minutes, she thought, fighting the urge to lock herself into one of the bathrooms. She'd change into more conservative clothing once she reached the village. She got down at the nearly empty platform of Sitapur, ignoring and avoiding the helping hands of multiple men who had lined up alongside the door, pulling her bag after her as she looked around for someone who had been sent for her. Her phone had lost signal a long while ago, and she realized she'd entirely have to rely on Gauri's relatives during her stay in the village.

Raman Lal was one of the more well off men in the village, and with the help of relatives had prepared a grand wedding for his daughter, a three day long function with mehndi, sangeet and anything else that his young relatives suggested was in vogue. To humor his daughter, he had promised Garima's father the best of hospitality, as the big day arrived, he found it a terrible inconvenience. There was so much to be done that to find someone to take care of her would be hard, and his daughter would be busy attending the ceremonies and relatives all day. He didn't want the city girl that anyone hardly knew to take the limelight in the proceedings and hog his daughter's attention. But in the end, his problems were solved once Gauri pulled out a photo of the two of them on her phone. Within minutes, Birju, his cousin was standing by his side, offering to make the city girl feel at home. Birju was a known to be incompetent and unreliable, and this would be a good way to get him away from the functions too. Raman promptly asked him to book a room at the lodge far from the house, and sent him off to the station to receive Garima. And so when her train arrived at the station, Birju was there in person, waiting with a big smile and a round belly to welcome the esteemed guest.

It didn't take long for Birju to recognize the city girl, she was the sole passenger that got down at that small station but he was certain that she was someone he wouldn't miss even in a crowd of people. Birju was dressed in a kurta pajama and in his hand he held his prized mobile phone, a Nokia Music Express with a color screen. "Bitiya, idhar." (Child, here) He waved at Garima while hurrying towards her and before long he was standing in front of the beautiful city girl. "Hallo, haw are eyu?" He laughed with pride at the fact that he was speaking English, no matter how thick his accent was or how uncertain his tone was. "Yeh dekho aapka photu, bitiya rani ne humko bluetooth karke bheja." (Look, here is your photo, that our child has sent me through Bluetooth") Birju handed his mobile phone to Garima to assure her that he was infact a family member of Gauri and came there to pick her up. "Kaisa lag raha hai humra Sitapur?" (How do you like our Sitapur), waving his hand over the emptiness around them. It was the first time he had seen someone who wore a tight dress like that and all Birju wanted to do was ogle at Garima's ripe body but he knew that there was a time and place for everything. "Aapke liye humne ekdum first calas hotel book kiye rahe." (We have booked out best hotel for you)

She was surprised that the old phone was able to get a signal whereas her own phone was pretty much dead. The short conversation kept on as the two of them came out of the railway station and headed towards the village on a dirt patched road. Birju carried the luggage bag of the city girl with ease, he was a strong man and a farmer who was used to carrying loads five times heavier than what Garima brought along with her. The journey to the village didn't take long or at least didn't seem too vexing since the whole road was shaded by big Neem and Peepal trees.

As they came upon a gap in the trees, the older man stopped, telling her about the cellular network reception in Sitapur and how it's all but a gimmick, there's no reception anywhere in the village and the people who are lucky enough to have phones use it for everything else but making calls. The spot they stood was one of the few in the village where they could get reception and he advised her to call Gauri from his phone before they moved on. The family had gone to the nearby town for some shopping and would be gone all day, but atleast it was a place with a good network, so she could call and confirm in person. After a quick phone call with her friend to confirm what she had heard, and announce her arrival, Garima handed the phone back to him, unsure of what she was supposed to do all day.

Before long Birju stood in front of what looked like a seedy motel, it had a sign board in local script which read the name of the business, 'Welcome Lodge'. "Pahuch gaye tip top."(We've got here OK) The lodge was worse for wear and looked like someone had abandoned it five years back. "Chalo aapka room dikha deta hu phir aap muh haath dho lo aur fresh ho jao."(I'll show you the room, and you can freshen up) .The old man at the reception raised an eyebrow as Garima walked inside, but held out a key to Birju nevertheless, his gaze lingering on her back as the couple walked inside the building. Birju ushered the young lady through the narrow and dark corridor that led to a row of identical doors. "Yeh raha chabi aur yeh raha aapka room." (Here's your room), Birju said, waving her inside.

Garima stared at the room with no little concern. This was the worst place she had ever stayed in her life, but she had to accept it as he told her how the household had been full of relatives and workmen. It had a small creaking bed on one side and a table on the other, looking old though the room looked like it had been cleaned recently. Small mercies, she thought as she bent over to pat the bed. For a moment, she froze as she realized that he had followed her into the room and had a perfect view of her bottom as she bent down to touch the bed. Birju had placed her luggage bag next to the table and took a seat on the floor, startling Garima for a second since she must have been unaware of his presence. From his vantage point he was able to get a good glimpse of Garima as she bend down to grab something from the bed, her green dress rising up and showing off more of her legging clad thighs.

Birju hadn't offered to host her out of chivalry. His wife had died young and the only company he had had for the last decade was that of the village prostitutes. The young women of the village knew to stay away from his charms, and he couldn't resist when the opportunity came to get close to a fresh young thing. But unlike most rascally young men, who would rather slaughter the hen that laid golden eggs, Birju believed in hatching those eggs and perhaps it was this foresightedness of his that kept his hands away from her even as he had her alone in there. He had his eyes on her every move. He knew that the girl would be staying there for nearly a week; if he grabbed her like a maniac, he could have a taste; if he could find a way to seduce and control her, a whole feast was on offer. He knew that some women responded to dominance, some to tenderness and others slutty enough to respond to lewdness. He wondered what would get through to the girl in front of him.