Liberating the Goddess

"Thank God that we did not have to use the Glock!"

Sheela got up from the executive chair where she had been sitting for the whole day and stretched herself.

"Go and lock the door first," she told Rudra and lit a Trichy cigar. This was from a box that she had found in the drawer of Subho's desk.

Rudra and Sheela were in Subho's office in Nariman Point looking at the sun setting over the the Arabian Sea. This had been Subho's 'home office' on the 18th floor of Express Towers, one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in India, and was more like a mini penthouse. When he was in a mood to do so, Subho used to run his business from his regular corporate premises in the Kamala Mills compound and of course he had a bungalow at the Bandra Bandstand where Sheela had spent a couple of weekends. But now that he was no more, Sheela and her son Rudra had discovered this little gem of real estate that was the nerve centre of his personal world.

She had just finished the last meeting of the day with the management team of Subho's company - the CEO, Kamala, and the Company Secretary, Jagadish. They had put the final signatures on the various documents that were needed under Company Law to recognise Sheela as the new owner of the company and the Chair of the Board of Directors. Subho's sudden and unusual death at the PaglaJhora waterfalls had raised a lot of eyebrows and suspicions of those who had their eyes on Subho's very profitable engineering business. But with some deft handling of the rural police in North Bengal, it had been established, and reluctantly accepted, that he had indeed slipped and fallen into the falls and had drowned to death. As an intestate Hindu, who had not left a will behind, all his property had been equally divided between his two class I heirs, namely his widow Sheela and son Rudra. Now both of them were equal owners of his business.

"Would it be too windy if I open a window?"

"Go ahead, it will be quite nice."

Rudra opened a single pane of the bank of windows. The salty air from the sea rolled through the room that was already redolent with the mild aroma of the Trichy that Sheela was smoking. Mother and son sat down on two sofas near the window and stared at the orb of the sun that was sliding into the sea.

"Yes, it was good that we did not have to use the Glock. Things would have been a lot more complicated with a gunshot wound in the picture." Sheela finally got around to addressing the point that her son had been trying to make for some time.

"It was a convenient accident."

"It was an accident. Period." Sheela cut him off. "That chapter is closed and now that these company matters have been taken care of, we need to plan for the future."

"What next?"

"Let us start with what we know, or what we heard that night."

"We have been over it a number of times."

"But there have always been too many distractions. Let us begin with a clean slate."

"How should we start?"

"My mother, your grandma, Durgamati, was a very special woman with unusual powers. Agree?"

"Yes, and you have inherited some of that."

"Along with you and this power manifests itself when we are in a state of sexual arousal."

"Not just arousal, it needs an ejaculation."

"Yes, physical contact with freshly ejaculated spermatozoa"

"What is the nature of this power?"

"We see this in an explosion of physical energy, a glow, a raw incandescence, but it also has an impact on the social and economic world."

"You mean the world of my father's business."

"Yes, but right now, I am interested in its origin, its source."

"Which should take us back to my grandmother, from where it all began."

"Do you really believe that incredible story of her entrapment, her explosive release, her recapture and her transferral to you and me?"

"It is a little complicated, but I do know that my mother is trapped, and she needs release."

"I am with you in this."

"That goes without saying my little Lord. Without you I am powerless to do anything!"

"Really?"

"You remember how Kamala's opposition to my ownership of this company, that she had thought was hers, crumbled after.." Sheela paused with a naughty smile on her lips.

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Of course, he remembered! How could Rudra forget the day when Kamala had come to this very room with three burly police officers. They had grilled Sheela and Rudra separately about the manner of Subho's death in Bengal and about the Glock that Subho had purchased. Both mother and son had of course given a clear account of the events leading up to the death, leaving out of course the little excitement of the night before, but police had been sceptical and non-committal. It had been a very tense day for both of them and it was quite late in the evening when the police had finally left their office.

Before leaving however, one of the police officers had been a little too inquisitive and had done a perfunctory search of the office. That is when they had first learnt that one of the walls could be pushed aside to reveal a small private and very unique bedroom. One wall of the room was glass, from ceiling to floor through which one could see the lights of the city glittering far below. Two other walls were decorated with exquisite prints of Milo Manara nudes while the fourth had a home theatre system and a well-stocked bar! Obviously, none of these signs of opulence could be connected with Subho's death in the remote mountains and so the police had to reluctantly get back to more mundane matters.

But Sheela had taken one look at the cozy bedroom and had decided that there was no point in them going back to their Bandra bungalow. There was no one there anyway and it was quite late. She asked Rudra to order pizzas and crashed on the bed, tired and drained after a day of tense cross-examination.

"Ma, there is a lot of beer in the fridge, and it is chilled."

"I could do with something stiffer tonight."

"Stiff as in a single malt? Or something else?" Rudra grinned.

"You men have only one thing on your brain!" Sheela had said in mock anger, but it was not as if she was averse to the idea either.

"Come, come, you have had a stressful day today. Let me drain that stress out of your body with a good massage."

They had not planned to stay at Nariman Point and so neither of them had brought a change of clothes. But this was hardly a problem because Sheela was more than happy to pull off her kameez top and drop the salwar trousers that she had been wearing the whole day. Standing in her bra and panties, Sheela stretched out her arms and pulled her son into a big hug.

"What would I do without you kiddo?"

Rudra too hugged her tight but in addition, pressed his lips on hers and kissed his mother deeply. No words were spoken, none were needed as Rudra unclipped her bra then pushed her face down on the bed.

"I wish there was some talcum powder or body lotion to rub you with."

"Why not use that single malt in the bar as a rubbing alcohol!"

Which was an excellent idea that Rudra had put to good use. He performed the sacrilege of pouring a peg of Glenmorangie on his mother's back and running his thumbs up and down her spine. Sheela murmured in pleasure and wiggled her buttocks. Rudra obliged her by pulling her panties off. Sheela raised her buttocks to reveal the crack within the puffed cheeks of her vaginal lips. Rudra took the bottle and poured it directly into her lips. Then he pushed his fingers in and gave his mother a firm but gentle prod.

Sheela squealed in pleasure as the alcohol chilled through her genitalia. More so, as she felt her son's fingers push into her from the back. Her body twitched with pleasure and then relaxed to the soft touch of his fingers running down from her neck, across her back, over her butt right through her lips and all the way into her deepest innards. Rudra too had let go of his T-shirt and trousers and was in his crotch hugging briefs that had already tented with his own erection. As he reached across his mother to rub the single malt into her tired body, Sheela felt the prod of her son's erection pressing against her buttocks and even lower and deeper.

"Take off your undies!" Sheela ordered, "and press my scalp."

Sheela was face down on the bed and Rudra straddled her thighs. Then he leaned forward, dragged her head back by her hair and started to massage her scalp by gripping her hair in her clenched fists. Sheela purred with pleasure as she felt his erection brushing against her back and then prodding her butt. Her back was now bent back like a bow, her breasts were swinging free, and her nipples were already erect. Rudra reached out and grabbed one, then squeezed it lightly. Sheela cooed with pleasure and jerked her hair free, turned herself around to be on her back. Then she grabbed her son's face and pulled it down to her own and in the process, Rudra was now on his mother's chest, with his penis nudging her on her pubes.

Sheela kissed her son deeply, savouring the taste of his tongue as it pushed straight past her lips and on to her own tongue. Oh God, she needed this and more! She felt his penis, now big and hard, pressing into her belly and reached down to grab it in her fists. No words were spoken, none were needed as she expertly guided her son into her vaginal crack and then thrust her hips upward to swallow it completely. Never had it been as smooth and as satisfying as it was when her son penetrated her with one fluid motion. He then continued to pound her pussy with his penile piston until Sheela screamed out in sheer pleasure.

But it was not only Sheela screaming in pleasure. It was the conjoined ecstasy of mother and son thrashing about in the throes of an unworldly sexual orgasm. Too many things seemed to be happening but then again time must have stopped still because the clock hardly moved. Rudra was ejaculating copious amounts of cum that not only flooded through his mother's pussy with such intensity that it seemed to splash out and wet the whole bed itself. But along with the cum that was flooding through Sheela there was a blazing sheet of light that glowed where mother and son were thrashing around on each other. Then there was this roaring sound that made the windowpanes shiver. In all this, Sheela and Rudra heard what seemed to be people shouting, the sound of screeching that one hears when a car brakes hard followed by a loud thud. For a while there was silence and then the wail of the ambulance.

As the light and sound show died out, Rudra found himself on his mother's chest, softly suckling her teats while Sheela ran her fingers through her son's hair. They might have stayed like this, savouring each other, for some more time but then there was someone ringing the doorbell.

"That would be the pizza guy," Sheela told her son, "And remember to put on your pants." She grinned.

Next morning there were two small pieces of news in the papers. First, someone had noticed a strange glow of light that was briefly seen to illuminate the Express Towers and second that there had been a car accident that had injured three policemen, though none of them were very serious. Neither Sheela nor Rudra had seen either of these but a day later, Kamala had called up Sheela and had informed her that the process of transferring the shares in Subho's company to their name would be done in a day or two.

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Now that the ownership issue had been settled, it was time for the next step - the mystery of Sheela's mother.

Unlike most fathers, Sheela's father had virtually abandoned all contact with her as soon as she had got married to his friend's son Subho. Sheela had found this rather odd but in fact there were so many odd things in her life that she had taken this too in her stride. Now that she had heard a few things from Subho, on the night before his fortuitous accident, some of the oddities were falling in place. Of her never present but not dead mother who was supposed to be around the house but not visible to either father or daughter. Of her father eyeing her every now and then, not just as a daughter but as someone else. Of occasional visits to their house by Subho's father, accompanied by young women - a different one each time - and the way they would be closeted together in the library.

Of how during these visits, there would be muffled shrieks from within the library and the house would be filled with a strange sensation - part pleasure, part terror - that her father would neither explain nor deny in very explicit terms. It was all very mysterious and yet, even as a child, Sheela could feel a tingle of excitement and fear whenever such things happened. All of these had ended when Sheela was bundled off to Goethal's Memorial School in Darjeeling and then married off to Subho. Things were not yet fully clear, but Sheela was now in a position to see the big picture. She had bounced her ideas off from her son and with his help - both intellectual and sexual - a plan was beginning to take shape. The first step was to re-establish contact with her estranged father.

Sheela's father, Barun was originally from the tribal area of Chotanagpur, near the Bengal-Bihar border. He had a flat in Calcutta that he had gifted to Sheela, as a part of her marriage dowry. Sheela had stayed on in this flat after her marriage and Rudra had also grown up there, but Barun had moved to Mumbai soon thereafter and had barely been in touch with either his daughter or grandson. Subsequently he had acquired a lakeside villa in the Aamby Valley, in a distress sale when the township had run into severe political problems.

Rudra and Sheela decided to visit him during the Navaratri celebrations that coincide with the Durga Puja.

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Mother and son had spent the night in the small guest bedroom of Barun's lakeshore villa located in one of the most remote corners of the sprawling, but largely abandoned, township. Sheela was the first to wake up and see the stunning scenery that had revealed itself at daybreak. The still waters of the lake were glistening in the light of the sun peeping over the Sahayadri Hills. Had they been back in Calcutta, the drums in the local Durga pandel -- temporary shrines set up to celebrate the annual autumn festival of the goddess Durga -- would have been banging away. Today was Ashtami, the eighth day of the bright fortnight in the Hindu month of Ashvin, when the potency of the goddess peaks as she kills the evil ogre. But Sheela had no time to celebrate. There were many things to be done.

"Get up Rudra," she shook her son awake, but not before that she had first glanced at the ceiling and had made sure that her own sleeping suit was in place!

But why was she suddenly so conscious of her dress?

They had driven down from Mumbai the day before and had surprised Barun by arriving unannounced well after sunset. Barun was pushing seventy and had not aged very well. He was thin and because of his height had become a little bent. He was mostly bald with just a white fringe of hair. His cheeks had sunk, and he had a haunted, feral look in his eyes. The three of them were meeting after so long that both Barun and his grandson Rudra were a bit awkward, but Sheela had taken charge and had put them all at ease. There was much catching up to do but after some initial and inane chit-chat, Sheela had taken the bull by the horns.

"Baba, do you have a picture of my Ma? Rudra was very keen to know about her."

Barun was quiet for a while. "Of course there is," he said very hesitantly, "but.."

"But what Baba?"

"It may be a bit too adult for her grandson!" Barun smiled.

"Oh! He is old enough for anything." Of course, there was no need to say that he had been fucking is mother.

"Then let us open a bottle of whisky before we open his eyes."

Since they were arriving unannounced, Sheela had packed and picked up some biryani and kebabs from a roadside hotel. They had been on the road for the whole day and were ravenously hungry. So on arrival, they had first sat down for an early dinner and then, soon after Sheela had asked about her mother, Barun opened a bottle of whisky. Nothing classy of course, but Sheela noticed that he had poured for himself nearly double of what he had poured for his guests! Even then, Barun ran through his drink well before the other two and quickly poured himself one more as mother and son finished theirs. Evidently there was something that had rattled him.

"Baba, we are done." Sheela was feeling pleasantly buzzed. "Shall we go?"

"Yes, the picture is there in the library." Barun led them out of the dining room, through the large drawing room to the library on the other side of the house. The library was locked and Barun was way too high to shield his not-so-deft move to retrieve the key from the alcove where it was hidden. The room was less of a library -- there were hardly any books -- and more of a private lounge with windows at one end opening out towards the lake. But on the other three walls were large pictures -- some photographs and some paintings -- of a Santhali, tribal woman, obviously Sheela's mother and all in different stages of nudity!

For a moment everyone was quiet, until Sheela once again broke the ice. "That's a very impressive collection, Baba," then turned to her son, "and what an unusual introduction to your Dida, Rudra."

"Your mother was a very unusual woman, Sheela."

"Must have been," Sheela dropped her voice and spoke to herself, "If you can only think of her in the nude."

"She had charm, actually much more than charm," Barun was mumbling to himself. "A spark, a magnetic spark, actually an explosive spark."

"And what was it like?"

"It was a pulse," Barun smiled, "a pulse of..." he was groping for words, "of pleasure, of ecstasy."

"Ecstasy? Or Agony?" Sheela was scoping out the terrain.

"You know sweetheart," Rudra noticed that his mother flinched a little, as Barun threw his arms around her shoulder. "She was so much like you."

"Yes, Baba." Sheela played along. "That is why I decided to visit you, to see if you were keeping well, if you needed anything."

"Playing with her was like playing with fire."

"But of course, I would be nothing compared to her."

"Depends. Depends on so many things." Barun smiled at his daughter who smiled back. Then she drew close to him and ran her fingers across his face, stopping for just a moment at his lips.

"Oh God!" Barun remarked and suddenly his breathing became laboured and heavy. "I hope you are staying here for a few days."

"I am, but first let me see these paintings closely." There were five large paintings that stood out from the rest.

"That big one is the most realistic." It was. It showed her mother, Durgamati standing stark naked under a tree. One leg was raised on a tree stump, her hands were at her crotch and by the look on her face, she was obviously fingering herself to a state of bliss and ecstasy. There were others but not all of them showed Durgamati in ecstasy. There were quite a few where she was bound up and evidently under considerable stress.

"Who has painted these pictures?" Sheela pointed to one such stressed out picture.

"Different artists, but all working on photographs taken by Subho's father. He was good at it." Barun chortled. Sheela's jaw hardened as she imagined what would have been happening, but she kept quiet. She was looking for one specific image, but which one would that be?

"But Baba, which is your favourite? The one that is closest to..." she paused for a second, "your heart?"

"Will you get me some coffee, my dear, while I sit down on my favourite chair." Barun plopped down on a sofa that faced another naked picture of his wife -- one in which she was not just tied up but looked truly terrified.