My Mother was Mintu's Dad's own sister. So, we called him Mamababu. I lived in Kolkata with my parents and two brothers. One older and the other younger.
Since we met after long intervals of time, we really knew each other through social get togethers, such as family weddings etc.
My Dad was a Senior executive in a large company and was endowed with reasonable wealth. At that point of time, my family was the only one who could offer to pick Mintu and Mamababu from the station.
Since I was not too good in studies and more interested in meeting people and being nice in the traditional Bengali sense, I was dispatched by my Mother to the station with the car and bring them home for their trip.
The car. Any Indian would know what the Ambassador car was like. It was nothing but the Morris Oxford model of 1950s of UK.
When the train arrived and I saw them alighting from the train in the heat and dust, I proceeded to be near them and did pronaam to Mamababu and insisted that Mintu did pronaam (Indian salutation of bowing down and touching the feet of the elder) to me. (I am only four months senior to Mintu in age) MIntu totally refused and said "Ja. Bhag. Tokay. Aaar pronaam? Maatha kharaap?" ("Go get lost. Touching your feet? I am not out of my mind!!")
In the bumpy journey back from the station to their house in Ballygunj, Mamababu sat in the front seat and Mintu and I sat in the back seat and chatted all the way. Talking nineteen to the dozen. There was a little bit of my teasing each other that is traditional between siblings. He made comments about my weird old world glasses. I retaliated by pinching him on his arm. When he got more and more hysterical about my hair style, clothes and everything else, I complained, "Mamababu. Dakho naa, Mintu jaa taa bolchey." (Uncle. Please intercede. He is trifling me around!!")
Mamababu simply ignored the complaint or just said, "Toomadyer bhai boner baypaar. Aaami aar kee korbo?" ("It is a matter between a brother and sister. What do I do about it?"
Soon enough we reached home. The visitors went in for their bath and soon were served a sumptuous meal of bhaat, daal, chochodi, chhechki, kopeer torkari and rooee maachcher paatlaa jhoul. Followed by rosogolla.
Soon after the meal was over, Mamababu ordered Mintu, "Jao. Pordtey bosho." ("Go in and start studying.")
He went in and did exactly that.
Two days later the exam was over. Mintu was not too satisfied with his performance. Mamababu was outright angry. He complained to my Mother, "Shyama. Ki kori bol toe? Pora shuno korey naa." ("Shyama. This boy does not study. What do we do??")
The next tree days were pure holiday at home. Mamababu and my Mom sat out in the open balcony and chatted and joked and laughed. I went into the guest room or invited Mintu into my room and chatted. Sooner than later, the main topic was whether I have any boyl friend and likewise, whether he has any girl friend.
(And by the way, in the Bengali context, the word friend in this situation means a lot more than friend. It truly means who you may hold hands with, steal an occasional kiss and talk to possible life long coupling. If the boy is very lucky and aggressive, may be, he will be able to feel her breasts and kiss her on her breasts. And if he is terribly aggressive and lucky, he may be able to slip his hand into her blouse and feel her breasts. All without taking the blouse off.)
I really did not have any 'boy friend'. He insisted she too had no 'girl friend'. (Though I believed otherwise. Besides, he was gangly and nearly mis-shapen. In so far as I was concerned, I was well 'developed', whatever that means.
During this period of time, I got into the habit of pinching him wherever he had any disagreement on any matter, while he would simply tickle my flanks in the waist region and I would jump up. Within these few days, we had become close to each other and did not mind one touching the other. Though in the context of conservative Bengali homes, this is not easily workable.
Soon they returned back to Delhi and awaited the results of Mintu's attempts to enter one college or the other.
Within two months we got to know that he had got an admission notice from the prestigious IIT in Kharagpur. On the 28th of April MIntu left home and proceeded for life in the hostels of IIT. In Kolkata again I picked him up. Mintu stayed two nights in our home and then boarded the local train from Kolkata to go to Kharagpur.
All through the nights of those two days, we chatted under the mosquito net.
Clearly, that much of matter never exists for chatting that much. And inexorably the topic wavered back to girl friend and boy friend. In that close space lying close to each other, we got physically close.
I must confess that several times during the 6 hour chat sessions, his hand may have strayed over my body. Likewise my hands definitely brushed his several times. But that did not appear to be important or exciting. During this short stay, Mintu mentioned to me, under intense pressure from me that he indeed had a girl friend. That did it. I launched into asking him if he had ever kissed her or done anything else with her.
Again through the course of his stay and the endless chatting he conceded that he had indeed kissed her in the stair well of their multi storied block of flats. No matter how much I asked he would not say any more. May be there was not too much to tell either!!
He too wanted to know whether I had concealed my liaisons. I insisted I had never touched a man leave aside meet him and do anything else. And let me assure the reader that was an accurate statement. In the conservative world of well to do Bengali families, we girls are too protected and practically not permitted to meet men, if it is left to parents. Many girls do manage to slip that cordon and have affaires. But I still had not had any liaison, leave aside an affaire.
But Mintu cross questioned me as to if I had a boy friend, whether I would like my boy friend to kiss me hard or softly. Or whether normal girls liked to be dominated and forced into having a 'physical relationship.'
Before leaving for Kharagpur, we promised to each other that we would write to each other regularly.
In the months that followed, our letters to each other slowly became more and more frequent and increasingly open and started discussing sex pretty openly. Though sexual terms used were, to put it mildly, very conservative.
In the month of January two years later, (by then I was 19 and half years old and well into the age of legal consent as per Indian law) after my mid term exams, we as a family, without my Father that we would drive to Digha for a holiday at the sea resort. I asked my Mother whether I should ask Mintu to come along. She agreed and asked me to write to him and find out. I wrote to him that our entire family would be driving to Digha and would like to pick him up on the way to Digha so that he too could have a holiday with us.
After ensuring that his parents had sanctioned his trip, he agreed to go along with us. I wondered how we (four from our family and Mintu and one driver) would fit into that 'Ambassador' car!!!
In any case, it is pretty normal in India to pile into a small car and suffer the squeeze. The day arrived. Our car swung into IIT. We reached his hostel. He had packed a small over-nighter. We piled in and managed to shut the door of the car and off we trundled to Digha with no stops in between to try and reach before dusk.
I was in the front seat with Mintu sandwiched between the driver and me. I had joked with him several times, with a hushed voice and meaningful glances that if she sat next to the driver, "Oee lok ta, gear change kortay giye aaar kitcchhoo tey haat diyedebay to?" (While trying to work on the floor shift gear stick, if I am next to the driver, he may try and touch something else.")
When I said that the first time, he looked at me in amazement. I was bordering on risqué language. So he answered back, "Aaar ammar ki hobey?" (Then what will happen with me?")
Without waiting a second, I retorted, "Tor ki? Oi lok ta bhab-bey jey o, gear change korechhey. Are ki??" (So what? The driver will think he has changed gears, while he would have shifted something else")
When the rattle trap of that car was moving the bumpy roads, we had to hold our bones together. In order that he could remain seated, he had to extend his right arm over the flat back rest.
Each time the driver shifted the gear, I would glance at him and smile and whisper, "Ki. Rey. Dhorey naye nee to?" ("Hey. What. Did he hold 'that' by mistake?")
Once he suddenly answered back, "Jodi atoee bhoyer pabaar hoye, to tui bachieye raakh." ("It this is a matter of this kind of concern, you should protect 'it' for me.")
I responded with, "Theek aachey. Ami tai korbo." ("Okay. I guess I will have to help you in protecting that.")
During the next ten minutes, once or twice I let my right hand stray and placed my palm over Mintu's crotch, not touching, in mock protection. And I said, "Daaakh. Amaar bhaier jinish ta kay aami bachieye rakhcchhi. Tor girl friender jonney." ("Notice this. I am protecting my brother assets from attack just to please your girl friend.") Clearly, Mintu was embarrassed and said, "Kee Hocchhey ta kee? Oi lokta dekhchhey." ("What are you up to? That man can see what you are doing!!")
Once, while the car was turning, he was about to fall over on to the driver. I asked, "Tui ki driverer uporey dholey podbee nakee. Jaani na baba. Tor ki ichhey?" (Will you now fall all over the driver? I don't know about your propensity for mischief.")
He asked back, "Taaholey kee dhoree bol?" (In that case what do I hold onto?")
I answered back, "Amaar kandhey haat diye raakh." ("Put your hand over my shoulder.")
He did exactly that. The finger tips were dangling close to my heaving breasts. I am certain, his must have brushed my breasts a few times over about half an hour. I was worried that on noticing that he may pull out his hand and shrug me off. But, fortunately he did not. May be he did not notice.
Clearly, as the journey progressed, we had not only become good friends, but physically close too. Meaning, we had reduced the area of personal control, as defined by Alan Paese in 'Body Language'. Again, in the Indian context, that was pretty much, on the border of relationships, even between brothers and sisters.
Soon we reached Digha. Quickly we unloaded all the bags etc. We all visited the bathroom by turns. And with increased haste, we rushed to the sea front to view the evening. It was truly enchanting.
Being a Bengali girl, I was wearing a Tangaiil cotton saree with a wide red and green border. The body of the saree was bright yellow. I had a red blouse with its hooks in the back (somehow I liked the hooks in the back) with 'Mangia' sleeves. (Bengalis would understand that short sleeve.) The neck line was cut, but not too low. I was wearing leather slippers.
In atleast my home, I wasn't permitted to wear a swim suit. So, when we decided, immediately on reaching the small dingy hotel to leave for the beach, my Mother told me, "Joley tumi beshi jeyo na. Bujhey chho?" (Don't wade in too deep a level. Do you understand?")
On reaching the beach, Mintu and my two brothers took off their loose trousers and emerged with their swim gear. My two brothers had swimming trunks on. While Mintu was wearing white sports shorts.
We walked to the beach. It had reasonable waves hitting the shore. I took off my slippers on the soft sand beach and held them by the straps. All I could do was to be near my Mother and hitch my saree up, by about 6 inches and enjoy the shattered waves run over my bare feet.
I could see, Mintu and my two brothers enjoying in the water. Jumping up as the wave came in and going under and swimming a bit and laughing.
Soon enough, it got dark and my Mother sent out a call, "Tomra beriey asho." (Come. Come out of the water.")
They picked up their dry clothes and we walked back to the hotel room. My saree bottom was dripping with water.
On reaching back, they went in to change into pajamas to retire for bed and strung up their wet clothes for drying and I too went in a slipped into along night dress, called 'Maxi', in the Bengali context.
My elder brother was dispatched to fetch some food from nearby road side eateries. We all munched up the dismal content of the eating matter. Gulped down Coke instead of water, to avoid diarrhea and washed up for the evening.
My elder brother commented at dinner, "These two are whispering and talking the whole night!! What do they talk?? So much??"
I laughed it off saying, "Tomaar to kono bondhui nei. Aaami amaar bhaier shatthey golpo korchi. Taatey tomaar ki?" ("You have no friends anywhere. I am chatting with my brother. Why does that bother you?")
Soon it was bed time. Again I ensured that Mintu was inside my mosquito net and we could 'chat' the whole night.
I decided that Mintu's ascetic behavior and his endless gentlemanly act had to be broken. So, I launched into risqué conversation. I teased, "Hai rey. Toor shorts ta eirokom phuley chhilo kanoe?" (Why were your shorts having a bulge in the front?)
Mintu naturally grunted and said, "Ki bolchhish tui na?" ("What shit is that?")
I had a burning feeling below my navel and I wondered why I was feeling so restless. The greasy feeling between my legs. The crack between my legs was welling up with juices. All woman will understand what I mean.
I took the conversation one step ahead and whispered, "Torta ki khada hoey gachilo?" ("Was you dick on the hop?") He answered after much prodding, "Hai To ki korbo bol?" ("Yes. So? So what?")
"Keechu na!!" ("Nothing. Just keep it up.")
As the hours went bye, the burning sensation between my legs grew and I could nearly feel the juices dripping down the crotch. In order that I could get 'man' handled, which I dearly needed by then, I asked, "Tell me. How do you kiss your girl friend?"
Mintu said, "How can I describe it?"
"Okay. Theek aacchey. Amaakey chumu kheye dakha." (Okay. Kiss me and show me how you kiss her.")
Mintu was pretty uncomfortable. But relented and planted one anemic kiss on my cheek.
I commented, "Baaas. Eita tore chumu?" ("Is that your kiss?)
My crotch was burning with an unknown feeling of turmoil and I wondered if he too was feeling the urge to relieve himself from this discomfiture. I was truly restless.
I said, "Thhhaam. Tokay aami dakhachhi. Chumu khawa jineesh ta ki." (Wait. Let me demonstrate what a kiss ought to be.")
I kissed him on his face and once on his lips and left off and said, "Kee ray. Moja ailoe?" (Did you feel the pleasure that is due?")
Now I could feel that Mintu's ascetic reluctance was breaking down. I was breaking into his male fortress and the dam of passion was boiling in him too.
He kissed me back. This time passionately on my lips and on my face and eyes.
When he stopped he said, "Aita kirokom holoe?" ("How was this performance?")
I was amazed at the sheer strength of his arms and the positive feeling from those kisses.
My crotch was on fire. Yet, we were inside the hotel room. All I could do was to remain restless and want more kisses.
I said, "Aaar ektoo joray chumu khetey hobay. Chhedey dish na. Aaroe chumu kha." ("Be stronger and more insistent. Don't let off the pressure and flow.")
Mintu launched himself into a shower of kisses onto my face and lips and eyes. He wrapped his powerful arms around my torso and pulled me into her grip and kissed strongly and positively.
I wanted to move into the next gear. I told him, "Tor jeeb ta amaar mukher modhhey dieye de." ("Do some French kissing.")
Mintu was a quick learner. I could feel the nectar of his mouth flowing into my mouth and I was trembling with desire. I wondered why he was not reading my state of excitement. Even in that crowded hotel if he decided I would simply give him my prized virginity. But he was still being a restrained gentlemen.