Erotic Reunion with Bina

I had long since ceased to fantasise about Bina, the flame that inspired me to the impressive heights that I ultimately achieved in life. I would never have thought that a general strike called by a few political parties in a major metropolis of India would bring into my life an experience that almost half a century of my earlier existence had not.

I was on my way to the United States on business. The airline connections entailed an overnight stop over at this metropolis, before I boarded a 7am flight on my way to Los Angeles. This was routine. I had arranged to arrive at about 6pm on a domestic flight that day for an overnight stopover, check into a hotel in the city and then catch the morning flight. Everything seemed normal till my flight landed in this blessed city. I collected my bags from the belt and proceeded to the Exit Gate.

The scene outside was one of total confusion. There was a huge crowd of people, the strength of the multitude being unusual even for an Indian airport. I soon learnt that the City was on a general strike called by trade unions affiliated to some political parties, that no transport was plying and that the scenes witnessed during the day had been pretty appalling. Even private vehicles had been targeted and forced off-road. That is how the Hotel in which I was to spend the night had not been able to send their pick-up vehicle. The spectacle of spending the night outside the airport horrified me, coming as it would just ahead of a long and tiring flight to the US. I was almost at my wits end. I was told that the Airport Hotel was full. However, flaunting my position in the Government, I learnt that there was a Left Luggage facility, where I might leave my bags. That would leave me relatively free to move about with higher level of independence and flexibility. I promptly deposited my bags there, including the cabin baggage, and came out.

Even though I was somewhat of a jetsetter, I had not been a frequent visitor to this city over the years, partly because this was the city where Bina lived after her marriage. She had abruptly gone out of my life more than a quarter of a century back after being the beacon that guided me for almost a decade. Out of sheer depth of my love for her, I had resolved then never to create any problems in her married life and I had ever since stayed away from her and her husband. So, I ventured out of the airport, hoping to find a suitable hotel within some reasonable walking distance.

***********

I had met Bina when I was just entering my adolescent years. My elder sister was getting married, and it was over a pre-marriage meeting of the two families at a relative's house that I saw her. She was a petite little nymph, all of 15 and I was into my seventeenth year. Something about Bina impressed me instantaneously. Since she belonged to the groom's family, I understood the sensitivities involved, and our discussion during that first meeting was confined to normal exchange of pleasantries. But Bina had left an indelible impression on my mind.

Before the wedding day, Bina visited our house once as part of a big group of people from the groom's family for some customary rituals and I found myself getting an indescribable pleasure and satisfaction, just looking at her. She was undoubtedly a very pretty and stunningly beautiful girl. She had a perfect face – most beautiful and expressive eyes, rose petals of lips, pink and round cheeks, a pearl-string of teeth, an exquisitely shaped nose, cascading black tresses, a very fair complexion and overall a very captivating personality. Bina was the daughter of the groom's elder brother. The older ladies did some weird arithmetic and concluded that Bina was to call me "Mamaji", maternal uncle, a brother to her mother. We both seemed to protest, but we were told that since my sister and Bina's mother were daughters-in-law of that family, they became sisters, and Bina's mother became my sister as well.

The marriage of my sister was soon solemnised. Thereafter, my meetings with Bina became more frequent. She was the eldest of three sisters and one brother. In the initial stages of our acquaintance, with a view to breaking the ice, I would often ask her questions related to academics, and she would always shrug them away. She was more into other aspects of life. Bina's father was a senior official in one of the local utilities in Delhi, and a very pleasant, influential and respected man. While my family belonged to the lower middle class strata, hers certainly was an upper middle class family. Her dad had a Government bungalow in one of Delhi's upmarket residential areas. In those days, owning a television was a big luxury in India, and they had one – a black & white TV. They also had a telephone in their house, a rarity in New Delhi of the early 1970s.

However, Bina never behaved like a pampered girl. I would often go to their house on one pretext or the other, including for watching cricket matches on television, and spend long hours in her company. I invariably noticed that she enjoyed my visits to their house as much as I did. She had such a pleasing nature. She would often ask me to drive her around on my scooter. While I always complied, I was frequently also inclined to accommodate her youngest sister's requests for a ride with us. I noticed that Bina always resented this. I also noticed that Bina would initially sit on the pillion holding the seat handle, but as soon as we were out of the neighbourhood, on the main road, she would hold me tight as many grown up married women would do with their husbands driving the scooter.

Bina had now turned sixteen. Our scooter rides would often make her now growing breasts to smash against my back, passing mysterious thrills through my body. Our relationship was assuming mysterious proportions. She would always address me as "Mamaji", but she was always a very close and dear girl friend to me. I remember how I articulated my discomfort one day at her manner of addressing me but was amazed her brutal pragmatism.

"What is the harm if I call you "Mamaji"? It keeps everyone around happy and they do not suspect anything. You know, at our age, they would put a million restrictions on our spending time together but for this facade. It's all fine so long as we both know how our true relationship is. I have asked Dadi (grandmother) and she says there is nothing in this relationship."

"Did you tell her about us?" I enquired apprehensively, realising that her Dadi was also my sister's mother-in-law.

"No. I asked her pretending that a friend of mine was wanting to marry someone related to her like this and she said it was ok," came the prompt reply. It did not escape my attention that Bina had talked of 'marriage'. Just remember, she was merely a sixteen year old then.

So, we decided that it was best for her to keep calling me "Mamaji". But I did extract a concession from her that I would call her differently when no one was around. She wanted to know how I wanted to address her and I divulged " As Dollie". Bina was a bit surprised at the name chosen, and I just reminded her that she was my childhood friend. I was too shy to use the term childhood sweetheart. But I'm sure she understood what was stated and also what was left unstated. Thereafter, she had become "Dollie" to me, when alone with me.

With each passing day, we grew more and more fond of each other. Bina would discuss minute details of the passes that young boys used to make at her on her way to college, and I would share with her my interaction with girls of various descriptions at the University. The underlying, though unstated, axiom in all such discussions was that those boys and girls were all wasting their time on the two of us, and that we were made for each other.

Actual realisation of one part of the important role that Bina was quietly playing those days in shaping my destiny came much later. I was a good student myself, but I had found during the years in the University that many of the other bright boys fell by the wayside because their adolescent urges caused colossal waste of their time chasing girls of all descriptions. I never got afflicted with this malady, for, Bina constituted my Feminine World in its entirety. Bina was always there, just a bus ride away, or just a telephone call away. I had no fears, no points to prove. I had my girl, and the best girl in New Delhi at that. Consequently, my academics remained at a healthy level, consistently. This was to play a crucial role in determining my station in life as a grown up adult.

Soon, I realised that Bina's viewpoint on the subject of how she used to address me was so right. One day, she told me on telephone that she wanted me to take her to a movie. I offered to go with her to one of the hot favourites running in some theatres.

Bina was quick to reprimand me, "Budhdhoo (dimwit), we must go to a movie where no body else comes."

I complied. I got tickets for an old English movie running in one of the best theatres. The 'Mamaji angle' came in handy and we had no difficulty being allowed to go for the movie. I had asked for corner seats, but we realised that it hardly made a difference. There were not more than 20 people in the hall. Sitting on my left, Bina talked almost the whole length of the movie. We held hands, I put my left arm around her neck and my left elbow felt her lovely breasts on a few occasions. In the middle of a particularly romantic scene, Bina even placed a light peck, bisecting my right cheek and lips. For sometime during the movie, the palm of my hand around her neck hung over her left breast and it gave me immense thrills to feel it heaving with her breathing. More than once, I did close my palm over her breast softly and felt its size and shape.

I must admit that I was considerably aroused during the show and I'm sure that Bina noticed my huge hard-on. She dropped a key chain (accidentally or by design I could not tell) and bent to collect it in front of my feet. As she was picking it up with her right hand, her left hand pivoted on my thigh and slipped to my erection momentarily. I could see her smile softly and blush. I also noticed that Bina shifted in her seat restlessly for a few minutes after that, grinding her thighs against each other, and steadied only after a little moan and a bit of gasping, together with stretching of her legs in front. I understood very little of all this and it was only decades later, more precisely today, that I was to learn that that was Bina's first orgasm. On our way back home, I asked how she liked the film and she admitted she had not gone for the movie, but for spending some good and quality time, close to me. I found her stealing a peek at my crotch, which was by now well behaved. She added for good measure that for her, being in physical contact with me for three hours had been the reward.

Our visits to each other's house became more frequent. She would often create opportunities citing academic assistance as a rationale. The 'Mamaji' cover always came in handy. We would often sleep in the same room, even though her sisters (when at their place) or my own younger sisters (when in our place) always gave us company. However, we would often talk much beyond midnight, when the youngsters in our company were long and fast asleep. We would flirt endlessly, but never got explicitly erotic or sexual. Perhaps, we had both not discovered our own sexuality in any appreciable measure yet. She would always sleep on the bed next to me, with a gap of about a foot in between and would often keep one hand on my wrist or my palm. I would often wake up in the middle of the night and stare in the filtered moonlight entering through the window at Bina's lovely form, lost in deep and serene sleep. Her deep breathing and her heaving breasts would often make me have hard-ons. I remember having softly cupped her lovely breasts on a few occasions like this, and could see a smile on her lips each time I did that. I also remember having placed soft kisses on her tender lips a few times, and she always seemed to be awake subconsciously, a mysterious smile coming on her lips each time.

Years rolled by. With time, our relationship matured. We had by now become more aware of the true dimensions and connotations of our relationship. I had completed my masters and had begun work on my doctoral thesis. In the meantime, we did go through the usual ups and downs of the lives of adolescents and young adults. There was a time when she reported her parents getting interested in a boy from a known industrialist family as a match for her. I was quite taken aback for a while when she seemed to show more than normal interest in that boy. A thread somewhere seemed to snap in my life. But the very next week, she came home one evening, entirely unannounced, and declared in a matter of fact manner that she had said "No" to the guy. When I wanted to know the reasons, she retorted, a bit angrily, that I should know.

I had now begun to fantasise about Bina and me spending our lives together. But I could never bring myself to articulate these thought in front of her. The economic chasm between her family and my family always made me apprehensive of the future of our relationship. Besides, the "Mamaji" angle added to my self-doubts. And yet, I had begun to love Bina. Yes, I knew I was in love and I was sure that she loved me too. I also knew that the lead in the whole matter would have to be taken by me, that our traditionally conservative families were most unlikely to spot our mutual fondness and arrange our coming together for life on their own.

That is when the determination to make it good in life took me over. I argued with myself that if I were to attain for myself an economic status of high standing, other things would easily fall in place. That is when I decided to jettison a career in Physics and join the civil service. Civil service was a plum career those days and entry was most difficult. There was a two-stage stiff selection process, with more than 100,000 candidates vying for 500 odd positions.

For three months, we hardly met. I concentrated on my preparation. Civil service examination those days used to be as much a test of ability and intelligence as of endurance. I remember how I used to write my answers like mad sitting in the examination hall. My fingers would often begin to ache, but I would remind myself that I had to carry on in order to get Bina. Bina became my inspiration to do well in the examination. Therefore, it came as no surprise to me when I was called for an interview with the Board a few months later. The image of Bina as my bride kept on propelling me endlessly and I cleared the final hurdle.

I had been selected for appointment in the Superior Civil Service of India. I was delighted and so was my family. I remember Bina came within a few hours of the result being flashed in the newspapers. I could see the pride writ large on her lovely face. Her eyes had a glow I had never seen before and she was simply ecstatic. When we were alone in my study room for a little while, she gave me an unprecedented hug, squeezing her ample breasts against my chest, grinding her pelvis against mine and giving me an instant erection. Even as I tried to absorb what was happening, she stood on my feet, raised herself and gave me a full kiss on my lips. It felt wonderful to get a preview of the future, with my future wife expressing her affection and pride in explicit terms.

We had lunch together. Although no words were exchanged to that effect, we both seemed to be sure that we would now become man-wife, very soon. While her pride in my achievement was clearly manifest, my pride at the prospect of having Bina as my wife was no less. I knew that she was the woman of my life, that a better wife I could never get. My thoughts were speeding at enormous pace. In those few moments, I saw her as my fully dolled-up bride; I imagined about our "suhaag raat" (the nuptial night of consummation); and I even dreamed up our two little kids.

But the euphoria did not take long to subside. We had never thought that circumstances could so fast join hands with our elders to conspire against us. My success sent danger signals to Bina's parents. They had always liked me, but somehow, I got a feeling that they wanted their eldest child to be married into a really really rich family. A bureaucrat as a son-in-law was perhaps not what they aspired for. I am sure they had their own valid reasons. Bina's father had himself been in government service and they had perhaps concluded that the limited income in government service was but a pittance against the earnings of boys in business. One day, when I rang up Bina, she sounded distraught. We could not talk for any length of time and she could only say that there were serious problems.

Howsoever much I would try to get her on telephone again, I could not. I was always told, in a most pleasant manner though, that she had gone out, was in the toilet and so on. And then, I learnt that the family had gone out of town for a week or so. I felt most uncomfortable. The happiness that my success in the examination had brought had all but evaporated. The week ended and they were back. Bina's mother visited our house with a pack of sweets, and announced that Bina had been betrothed to a boy in the metropolis that I was in today. The boy was a known entity. Even I knew him. He was a very sweet person indeed. They were family friends of Bina's family and had roaring business.

The marriage was fixed and was to take place inside a month's time. All had been lost. I had not even been able to make my love for Bina public and she was grabbed away. I wanted so much to be with her. News trickled of frenzied shopping for the wedding. It was on one such day when I knew her mom was out in the market that I ventured to dial their number. Bina was on the line.

"Do something, Mamaji, no... no... Raj" she pleaded with me.

It was not often Bina had addressed me as Raj. I understood the import of this but there was little that we could think of. We both had utmost regard for our parents and the first axiom on which our actions were to be based was that we were not to hurt the sentiments of our parents. I had been arguing with myself that the boy chosen by her parents was really a good fellow, and rich at that. He would keep Bina happy. So, her part of the 'story' had been tied up. I could not care less about myself. A misplaced sense of making sacrifice for the sake of Bina's happiness prevented me from thinking through a drastic action strategy.

"Can I make one last request?" she asked me suddenly.

I mumbled my assent.

"I want to spend some hour with you before I start belonging to somebody else. And I want us to be together in a hotel room. Raj, please do not misunderstand me, but I want you take my virginity. It belongs to you. Day-after-tomorrow at 10 am at our usual spot in Connaught Place," she commanded and hung up.

As the enormity of her decision hit me, I became increasingly uncomfortable. And yet, I respected her decision. Here was a girl, about to get married to perhaps one of the most eligible bachelors around, wanting her true love to deflower her even before the wedding.

My own behaviour at home must have alarmed my parents. They had sensed that something was amiss and that it was all related to Bina's impending wedding. They were also quick to understand the sensitivities involved, the impact any foolish action on my part could have on my elder sister's position in the family of her in-laws. On the morning of the day fixed by Bina for our peculiar 'escapade', my father gave me a big lecture, admitting that he appreciated that I had a soft corner for Bina, but explaining also that a match with her was not possible because of the way we were related. I did come out openly and stated that the relationship was not a barrier and that since we were not related by blood, nor in any other close manner, there was nothing immoral. I did concede that it could at worst be a bit awkward for a while. But my father asked me to stand clear of Bina and not to do anything to bring the two families or Bina into disrepute.