The personal impact of a recession can bring out the best or the worst in people. In my case, it was both. But on balance, whether it good or bad, I still haven't been able to figure it out. Only time will tell, I guess. But I am getting ahead of myself.Let me start at the beginning. My name is Prerna and until a few months back, my husband Dhruv and I were living the vaunted Indian middle class dream. We were both working in mid-level positions in the same small but influential financial corporation. In fact we met as colleagues, became friends, then fell in love, and then got married. We had decided to postpone having children until I got promoted to a managerial position. So two decent incomes without any children translated into a pretty comfortable lifestyle. We had both grown up in families with financial troubles, so when we had a good income, we spared no expense at acquiring any luxuries. A sea-side 2 bedroom rented apartment in Juhu equipped with every luxury from a flat

Sudhir sat in his corner of the large hall that served as his house's living-cum-dining room and watched the young girl bounce about. Aruna, his 22-year old niece had recently got married and had just come back from her brief honeymoon visiting her mother, and both mother and daughter had dropped by at their house to say hello.Sudhir had always had an awkward time around Aruna in recent years. The girl didn't seem to understand that a grown up girl needs to be circumspect with men -- even if those men are relatives.That is the custom in Indian homes. Till she is a toddler it is fine for uncles and older cousins to carry the kid all around the house and fete and treat them. But once she was in her teens- and especially if she had attainted puberty -- the nature of that interaction changed.Some of them remained playful and tom-boyish but the physical touch was completely eliminated. Not even a handshake, let alone a hug.And so it jarred him every time Aruna came visiting. She would

Chapter 01: A Thakur Challenges Her WomanhoodThe marriage preparations were abruptly stopped. As usual, there was no provocation for it beyond a sharp exchange of words, and egos were bruised on all sides. The boy's father, Thakur Hari Singh, flew into a rage when his plans for the young couple's future were challenged by the girl in front of her father and other family elders.But what really set the stage for what happened next was the way in which the disagreement became a war of words. In the typical swaggering style of a feudal lord, the Thakur had pronounced that he would wait for exactly 9 months to become a grandfather and that his newly married son should set about propagating the clan forthwith.This announcement was made at a gathering of the two extended families. Binita, the bride-to-be was expected to sit in on the proceedings only to know what was expected of her and not to respond, react or offer comment. But her father had not brought her up in that manner, even though

It all came to be because the house was full. Children were visiting with their own toddlers and his father had come to visit them. And because the house was full Deepu couldn't get enough of his wife Paromita. And because he couldn't get enough he was like an untamed bull.And that led to the brash decision to fuck on the kitchen floor. The rest of what followed was not known to him.She was sitting on the kitchen floor, grinding masala for tomorrow's hilsa fish curry and it was late night. As it is with Bengali households dinner ended late. One by one all the family members went to bed and the lady of the house, after clearing the dishes and putting away things was getting a lead on next day's intended menu.She sat on the floor, her saree pulled up naturally and was using the heavy grinding stone on the slab below to make the masala paste for tomorrow. A day in advance not only saved time but also somehow made the mix more pungent and potent.She would wake her husband early to go get

Sunita watched in fascination. No doubt, Shom Uncle had his back to her and he was fully clothed. But there was no mistaking what he was doing. The elderly recently widowed, father of her dear friend Deepa, and was busy stroking himself fast and hard. His hand was holding the railing and his head was thrown back. His hand was moving in long strokes and short thrusts…. A rhythm she was familiar with for all the times she had masturbated her own husband Kunal to orgasm. That was how she managed Kunal, when she needed to and it never took Kunal too long to come.But Shom Uncle seemed to go on for quite a bit. His hand was clearly under his dhoti and every now and then, his tall broad frame shuddered. He paused as he relished that wave of pleasure and then gave himself a few more long strokes. As he leaned forward and sometimes back, he turned a bit which gave her a glimpse of his hand on his cock. It seemed a full fist and the head was jutting well beyond the clenched fist. Sunita felt

It was not their fault that they were spotted by him while pleasuring themselves shamelessly. Nor was it his fault – he had not planned on spying on the young housewife that was his tenant.Either way, as Narain slowly climbed down the metal stairway he saw and was transfixed by the sight of Shanthi, his tenant's young wife, pinching her own nipples and mauling her breasts while a woman had her head busy between the her legs.He was over 70 years and he had cursed his luck for having to climb to the third floor to where the water tanks were. There was no place left to dry his clothes and no one to help him either. He had slowly climbed one step at a time, hung out his clothes to dry and was climbing down, wrapped in only a thin bathing towel.Since few ever came to the rooftop and still fewer climbed that metal ladder to the third roof, the women had thought themselves safe from discovery so long as the room door was shut.But the elevation of the stairway allowed Narain a full view