Tag: indian

As the parents of Guru belonged to village, they married early.  Soon after the marriage his mother faced a hostile mother-in-law.  Their relationship turned so sour that one day, when Guru was four, his father divorced his mother.  He kept Guru with him, only as a gesture of male dominance.  As per village tradition his father and mother re-married soon. After his second marriage his father decided to move to a nearby town.  His mother, however, remained in the village.  He occasionally visited the village and was aware of the fact who his real mother was but not permitted to meet her.  Change, however, had the final say.As Guru turned nineteen his father died.  His step mother declined to keep him in her home.  He shifted back to his village and started to live with one of his uncle.  There, he was treated as a servant and kept busy in different chores all day.  Seeing his plight, one of his maternal uncle asked Guru to start

Like many young lads my sex life started as a voyeur.  I was an only son of my parent and both of them were working people.  My parents shifted from India to Dubai when I was 11.  In Dubai I had a friend named Robinder.  We became so close that we used to spend some nights at each other homes.  The mom of my friend was a beautiful woman named Malini.  She was not very careful in her dressing.  Robinder had no problem me watching her in different stages of dress.  We would sit in the bedroom playing as innocent people while she used to come out of the bathroom after the shower.  Unknown that we were there she would wrap a towel on her body and come out. She had a beautiful smile and long legs.  When she would see us she would smile and ask us to leave.One day we were playing 'hide and seek' with couple of other friends.  I decided to cover myself in a sheet and hide under the bed.  Usually the dirty sheets are tugged under the

Here is a brief account of rather unsettling series of events that has transpired to me recently.  When I reflect upon them, I feel ashamed.  I'm a very different person now than who I used to be, and not entirely in a good way.  I am Japio Mehta, a tall and well built Indian man.  A year ago my wife died in child-birth.  Like many other Indian marriages mine was an arranged marriage but I still loved my wife.  Her sudden death was a big blow to me.  My parents came to console me attend her funeral.  I was 28 then, so my dad suggested me to remarry.  My mom Purva, however, was not amused at this suggestion.  She told my dad that he should let me get over my grief.  Frankly speaking I was not in a mood to repeat the experience so soon.Mom stayed for another week to help me settle in life again.  On the fifth day a strange incident took place.  Mom had some back pain.  She discussed it with the house maid who told mom

I am an Indian man of 22 who lives in the city of Varanasi with his mother Rukmani and Uncle Satish.  I was 11 when my father died making me a orphan and my mother a widow.  My mother at that time was only 31.  She was not much educated so pulling the life alone was not possible for her.  Her elder brother Satish was living alone too due to the fact that his wife divorced him.  A deal was struck between him and my mother that she will look after his house and he in return will take her and my care.  My uncle was kind to me as he had no children of his own.  He was a bit bitter about women in general because he felt that his wife cheated on him.  He put certain restraints over mom so most of her time was spent inside the house, either doing kitchen work or doing puja.  She used to wear white saree only but otherwise she was a beautiful woman.  She never talk dirty words and was always polite with others.  I was her obedient son and

“Six years is a long time.” I said it matter-of-factly, but inside I as stirred. Six years ago, my father-in-law had passed away after a short battle with cancer. He left behind two daughters, both married and in their early-twenties at the time, and a wife who was 42 at the time. My wife, Sandhya, had that perky, slightly upturned nose that her mom and grandmother both had. I remember the first time I saw her in a bathing suit…it was actually a photograph that I’ve kept ever since. The pleasant woman were blessed with elegance. They had no single outstanding feature, but they were perfectly proportioned and had an air of elegance without the haughty air of sophistication.My wife, Sandhya, and I had been married for nearly two years when her father died, and we had been married 8 at the time of this story. I worshipped her body. Her hips were not slim, but they were not wide. They were well portioned and rounded. I often would sit at work and long for the feel of pulling her

 இன்று என் அக்கா மோனிகாவுக்கு கல்யாணமானது. என் அத்தை ஷைனியின் மகன்தான் எனக்கு அத்தான். காலையில் கல்யாணம் முடிஞ்சு வந்த கொஞ்சநஞ்ச சொந்தங்களும் கெளம்பி போய்விட, அக்காவும் அத்தானும் முதலிரவு கொண்டாட ரூமுக்குள்ளே போனாங்க. மம்மி அமலாவும் டாடி அருள்தாசும் அவங்க ரூமுக்குள் படுக்க போனாங்க. என் ரூமிலே ஷைனி அத்தை படுத்துக்கொள்ள,நான் வேறே வழியில்லாமல் ஹாலில்

We are an orthodox Muslim family living in U P. My father name is Saifuddin Khan is working in Dubai and he is there for the last about 10-12 years. He is working as a carpenter there. We live in a village near Lucknow. We are 3 members in our family. Me Ahmad Khan age about 22 years and a student in a local college. My mother name is Kulsum Khan am, aged about 45 years and my elder sister Salma aged about 28 years.My sister is about 6 years elder to me and so she has already been married in a nearby village. As with the most of Indian Muslims, we are also less educated family. I am also doing simple BA. My sister was just 10 class pass and my brother in law is a teacher of Urdu in local Madrassa (religious school). My sister is married for about 8 years now but she is still childless. This is the biggest problem in our family these days. As in orthodox Indian society being childless and that also in a village community is the biggest problem. My sister is very beautiful and plump.

I am Sekhar, a twenty three year old student doing my Bachelor of Engineering course from a prestigious institution in South India. I had just completed my third year of the course (my pre-final year) and I came home to my parents during the summer vacation.The city where I was studying is about five hundred miles away from the city where my home was. Being their only son, my parents insist that I spend the summer vacation with them and I love it too. After months and months of the rigors of hostel life and the food there, I loved being fussed over and overfed by my loving mom. My dad was a senior executive of Marketing Company and my mom was a Bank officer.We lived in our own apartment at the Paradise Plaza; a twenty year old Residential Apartment complex located in a prime residential area. Paradise consisted of three blocks in a straight line, numbered 1 to 3. Block 1 was the one closest to the main gate and 3 was the farthest. Each Block had five floors above the cellar where

I was a late bloomer; at least in matters of sex. As a boy in a big, conservative, middle class family, I had a relatively protected and sheltered life. My values were what I learned mostly from the elders in the family; my loving parents included.However, as young teenager at school, I was exposed to my quota of school friends and learned a few 'adult things' too. Overall, at 18 and in the junior college, I was still a novice and often the butt of ridicule by my more 'manly' friends. My average physic and looks did not exactly help me either.But, if there was one thing that I excelled in, it was my grades. I was always at the top of the class and considered one of the brightest students, academically. This earned me the grudging respect of my peers. At home, my parents and neighbors were equally proud of my accomplishments.We lived in a good middle class residential locality. Our home was a single storied house with three bed rooms, a drawing room, a dining room and a kitchen. We had

The train slowly started its long journey at exactly five in the evening. It was an express train and its final destination was another, bigger city about 800 kms away. The expected time of arrival at the destination was 7-30 am next morning.I am Mohan, twenty going on twenty one, a student of final year engineering degree course. I was returning to my college and hostel after spending three weeks of winter vacation at home. I was seated on the comfortable, cushioned lower berth of the First Class Compartment. Those were the days when this was the highest class of travel in Indian Railways and AC coaches on trains were a rarity. As a student traveling home and back, I was allowed a 50% concession on the fare. That made it affordable.The First class cabin comprised of a total of four berths - two lower berths and two upper berths. As you enter a cabin, there is a set of one lower & one upper berth on your right and another similar set on the left, separated by about three feet of