Amma’s coconuts 1

Amma’s coconuts 1

Thus we started a new life. To clear all our debts, my mother sold the tea-shop and our house and we moved into the house of this old couple. It was not a big house. It was a rather old-fashioned one. We were given a small room beside the kitchen to live in. The old couple seemed to be good people. Parvathiamma was initially a little reserved with my mother. But when she saw that my mother was a good-natured and hard-working woman, she became quite attached to her. The old woman was the talkative type, but she was ill most of the time and so my mother had to take good care of her. Vasu, on the other hand, was a quiet man. He hardly opened his mouth in the house. Since he had been a school-teacher, I would often take his help with my lessons. He would help me usually, but sometimes, if he was not feeling like it, he would shoo we away. The old couple did not have many visitors in their house, therefore they valued our company very much. One frequent visitor to the house was a man called Raghu. He lived in a nearby village and came to the house once or twice a week to do odd jobs. He was a tall and stout fellow with a very dark complexion. He liked to talk and chew betel. The old man and woman rarely allowed him to enter the house. Whenever he came, he was given a number of tasks like chopping fire-wood, digging the ground around the coconut trees, mending the roof, so on and so forth. He was punctual most of the time, and when he was not punctual the old woman would scold him. He seemed like a friendly person to me. I liked to watch him work and he seemed to like to talk with me. He would tell me about his village, the festivals there, his wife and his many quarrels with her. My mother also liked to talk with him. She one day told him our story, about my father and our little tea-shop. He was a good listener and he listened to her as he chopped wood. He addressed my mother as “chechi”, meaning, and elder sister.

This happened when I was around thirteen. Then I lived with my parents in the outskirts of an unimportant district of Kerala. My father ran a small tea-shop and my mother helped him in the business. Though I was their only child, I was not much spoilt. I was not bad in my studies and frequently stood first in my class. I was very obedient to my parents. Since they were fairly educated people, they knew well the value of good education and, though it was beyond their means, they were sending me to an English medium school in a nearby town. Looking back, I think that we were a happy family, though poor, and were envied by all our neighbors. Our troubles started when my father fell ill suddenly and died. He was in the habit of drinking toddy once in a while, but of late, probably because of the sudden heavy losses in running the tea-shop due to the appearance of a restaurant across the road, he had started drinking more frequently. Early one evening, his condition got so worse that we had to rush him to a hospital. The doctors said that his condition was very critical. He died after remaining bedridden for some weeks. After his death, my mother gathered herself together very quickly and tried to run our tea-shop alone. But she soon found out that she could not do it on her own. I suggested to her that I could stop going to school and give her a hand in the tea-shop. But she would not allow that, even though our financial conditions were fast becoming from bad to worse. During my father’s long illness, we had to borrow heavily from our friends and relatives. They were now coming to our house almost everyday and demanding their money back. We were in a desperate situation.

It was during this time that a woman in our neighborhood told my mother that an old couple in our locality was looking for a servant-woman who could do all the household work and take care of them by staying with them in their house. My mother and I went to see this old couple. We found that they were in their early sixties. The old man, who was called Vasu, was a retired school-teacher. His wife’s name was Parvathiamma. They had a son and a daughter who were now married and were settled in different places. When my mother expressed the desire to work in their house Vasu and Parvathiamma asked her if she had any previous experience of working as a servant-woman. My mother told them that she had the experience of running a tea-shop for more than ten years. This seemed to satisfy them and they were ready to take my mother in as the servant-woman of their house. They warned her that she would have to do all the work alone, and without any complaints. My mother agreed.

Thus we started a new life. To clear all our debts, my mother sold the tea-shop and our house and we moved into the house of this old couple. It was not a big house. It was a rather old-fashioned one. We were given a small room beside the kitchen to live in. The old couple seemed to be good people. Parvathiamma was initially a little reserved with my mother. But when she saw that my mother was a good-natured and hard-working woman, she became quite attached to her. The old woman was the talkative type, but she was ill most of the time and so my mother had to take good care of her. Vasu, on the other hand, was a quiet man. He hardly opened his mouth in the house. Since he had been a school-teacher, I would often take his help with my lessons. He would help me usually, but sometimes, if he was not feeling like it, he would shoo we away. The old couple did not have many visitors in their house, therefore they valued our company very much. One frequent visitor to the house was a man called Raghu. He lived in a nearby village and came to the house once or twice a week to do odd jobs. He was a tall and stout fellow with a very dark complexion. He liked to talk and chew betel. The old man and woman rarely allowed him to enter the house. Whenever he came, he was given a number of tasks like chopping fire-wood, digging the ground around the coconut trees, mending the roof, so on and so forth. He was punctual most of the time, and when he was not punctual the old woman would scold him. He seemed like a friendly person to me. I liked to watch him work and he seemed to like to talk with me. He would tell me about his village, the festivals there, his wife and his many quarrels with her. My mother also liked to talk with him. She one day told him our story, about my father and our little tea-shop. He was a good listener and he listened to her as he chopped wood. He addressed my mother as “chechi”, meaning, and elder sister.

Most of what my mother earned as salary was spent on my education. Often it was not enough. Sometimes when I asked for money to buy books or other things she would go and borrow from the old couple. Vasu would show readiness to help immediately. But the old woman would initially show some reluctance, but eventually she would give in. She would tell my mother that the borrowed amount would be cut from her next month’s salary. But often my mother would get the full salary itself; the old woman would ask her to forget the money she had borrowed. The old woman was kind to my mother in many other ways also. Often, when her son or daughter visited the house and brought presents, she would give something or the other to my mother. I used to wonder why she was being so kind to us. But soon Parvathiamma was to ask something from my mother in return for all the kindness she was showering on us.

One day I was in my room studying for my exams. My mother was in the kitchen. Parvathiamma came to the kitchen and struck up a conversation with my mother. At first I was not paying any attention to what she was talking. Then when I realized that she was discussing Vasu’s sex life, I naturally began to listen attentively. The old woman was saying that in his youth her husband had been rather shy. He had not taken much interest in sexual activities. It was only during the later years of their married life that he began to show a keen desire for sex. After their children had grown up, Parvathiamma had little desire for sex, but Vasu, on the other hand, had started craving for flesh so much that her disinterest in the subject angered him. At that time he had quite openly expressed to her about his hidden lusts, often embarrassing her with his statements. She would laugh at him and this would make him more frustrated. And once, the old woman told my mother, he said to me that he wished to see me in the arms of another man. He would love to watch it, he said, another man making love to his wife. Parvathiamma laughed loudly when she said this to my mother. My mother was clearly embarrassed. She tried to pass it off with a few remarks of exclamation and embarrassment.

Parvathiamma sadly commented now, as if to herself, that the old man had surely failed to enjoy himself during his youth. And now, in his old age he was showing a wild interest in sex which, she said, was very unbecoming of him. She said again that she felt pity for the poor man because he had failed to see all the colors of life during his “best times”.

” What can I do?” she told my mother. “At my age I cannot satisfy his hunger. Moreover, he does no desire me at all. I feel sorry for him.”

Here she paused. Then she said to my mother, “But, Sunandini, you can help him.” There was another pause, during which I know that my mother must have looked at her in a puzzled manner.

Then she told my mother in very plain words that she could help the old man by having sex with him!

My heart was beating wildly when heard this. I waited with abated breath to see how my mother was going to react. She was undoubtedly shocked, just like me. There was silence for a few seconds from her part. Then she tried to laugh it of as a joke. But she realized quickly that the old woman was serious, and she grew silent.

“What do you say, Sunandini?” asked Parvathiamma in a gentle voice, when my mother remained silent for a long time.

“I… I don’t know what to say, Parvathiamma,” stammered my mother. She sounded utterly confused.

“Think about it,” said the old woman. “Think about it for a moment. What do you have to lose?”

A deep silence prevailed in the kitchen for a while. Then I heard my mother tell Parvathiamma in an apologetic manner that she could not even think of doing such a thing, that it was a sin and the gods would never forgive her.

To my amazement the old woman became quite angry. She reminded my mother of the many times that she had helped her. She called my mother a thankless woman and suddenly started to cry. She told my mother that she was ready to fall on her feet like a beggar.

“I can’t bear to see him suffer”, she said, weeping. “That’s why I’m begging you. He could never go with an outside woman, because then somehow people will know. You live in our house. You are not an outsider. So there is no danger of anybody finding out. Besides, at his age do you think that he will be very demanding? Just let him hold you once in a while. That’s all.” She kept on talking like this, obstinately, angrily, beseechingly.

“Don’t forget,” she told my mother. “One word from me and you and your son will be thrown out of this house in no moment.”

“Aiyo, Parvathiamma, don’t talk like that,” said my mother. “I and my son will be ever thankful to you and sar.”

“Then , this is how you show your gratitude?”

My mother began to cry. Maybe she was hurt when the old woman called her thankless.

“You will say yes to my request or not?” asked Parvathiamma, as if for the last time. The tone of her voice was very threatening.

A brief pause. Then with my own ears I heard my mother say a weak yes!

Parvathiamma was overjoyed. She thanked my mother again and again.

Then she said, almost in a teasing manner, “Shall I send him to your room tonight, after Hari is asleep?”

My mother did not reply.

“Shall I?”

“Aiyo…tonight?”

“Yes. He cannot wait any longer.”

As a teenager, at that time, I had already started experimenting with sex. I used to talk a lot about sex with my friends and we also used to watch a lot of adult movies in the local theatres. But none of us – at least, not me – had ever seen a blue film. It was my greatest desire to see a blue film. My mother was in her late thirties at that time. She was thirty-eight, I think. She was a very beautiful woman with a wheaty complexion and a body which was the dream of every man. At my age I was very much aware of the sensuality of her body. Since we shared a single room, it was impossible for me to turn a blind eye to her voluptuous figure. I used to feel very guilty whenever I found myself eying at her large breasts, her midriff, and her deep navel. But she was not at all aware of my feelings. She thought that I was still a small kid. Sometimes she would change her sari standing right in front of me. And I already knew that Vasu had an eye on her. Although he hardly talked with her, I had so many times seen him gazing at her body longingly. He would hide behind his newspaper and ogle at her as she moved around the house with her work. Once I was in his room and he was helping me with a problem in mathematics. My mother was there, atop a stool. She was cleaning the ceiling fan. To reach the fan, she had to stand on her toes and stretch her arms up straight. Every time her arms went up, her sari would be lifted and her navel would come into view. All the time she was there the old man had kept on glancing at her unashamedly. And every time he glanced, his blood would rush up to his face. In another instance, I caught him staring at my mother through the kitchen window. She was in the backyard, washing clothes. Her sari had slid off her shoulder, revealing the tops of her heavy boobs seen through the low neckline of her blouse. And Vasu’s eyes were simply feasting

That night mother was very silent. She was very thoughtful while we were having our dinner in the kitchen. After eating, we entered our room. There were two cots in the room, put close together. The room was so small that the two cots covered a large portion of the floor. The cots made an “L” shape; I slept on the cot laid against the wall that separated the kitchen from our room and she on the one next to the window. The window opened into the backyard of the house where there was a tiny coconut grove and a well.

I lay down. She also lay down after switching off the light.

“Hari, have you studied everything for your exam tomorrow?” she asked me now.

“Yes, amma,” I replied.

Then silence fell in our room. The window was open and silvery moonlight was flooding into the room through the space above the curtain. I was not going to sleep. My young mind was almost bursting with anticipation and excitement. I waited, counting the seconds, controlling the great urge to toss and turn on my cot. Time seemed to suddenly stand still and I just got on becoming more and more impatient.

The clock in the drawing room of the house struck ten. A moment later Vasu knocked at the door and called my mother’s name softly.

My mother sat up. She looked at me. I did not move a muscle. I was lying wide awake with one arm placed on my forehead. She could not see my eyes. But I was afraid that she might hear my rapid heartbeats. When she felt sure that I was asleep, she got up. She stood in the center of the room and adjusted her sari. Vasu called her again. She looked at the door undecidedly for a while. Then taking a firm step forward, she opened the door.

From where I lay I could not see Vasu. But I could see the nervous way in which my mother looked at him and then looked down at the floor.

“Hari is asleep?” I heard him ask her, almost in a whisper. It was difficult say whether he had asked a question or made a statement.

“Um”, she said.

There was a brief silence.

Then the old man said, “I am unable to sleep. It is awfully hot in my room. I’ll sit here for a while here.” So saying, he gently brushed past her.

When Vasu saw me, he frowned, as if he had not expected me to be here. He stood beside my mother’s cot, looking at me a little nervously, and then shifted his gaze out of the window, at the moonlit coconut grove. My mother just stood at the door. I noticed that she was breathing very heavily, as if she had been running. Her face was a sudden whirlwind of emotions. Then, all at once, she stepped forward and fell upon the old man’s feet.

“I am a poor woman, sar,” she said as she burst into tears. “Please…”

Vasu was not ready for this. He was almost panic stricken for a moment. He glanced at me in alarm.

“What are you doing!” he exclaimed. He stepped back, away from her. “Get up…get up. Don’t make so much noise here…your son will wake up…”

“Please…” My mother kept on trying to hold his feet and she would not stop crying.

“I said don’t make noise,” said the old man, irritated, very much like a teacher in a noisy class. He glanced in my direction again and again.

“Sar, I beg you…please…”

Vasu now bent down and desperately caught hold of her shoulders. He tried to bring her to her feet. She stood up slowly, her cheeks wet with tears, her face contorted, as if she was in pain. She kept on crying, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. He stood holding her, looking at her, perhaps suddenly finding it hard to believe that he was so close to her, that she was in his arms. He kept on gazing at her, his mouth slightly open, as if mesmerized by the sensuality of her face. He looked at her quivering lips, her full cheeks, and her soft chin. He slowly looked down at her bosom where her sari had slid away slightly, showing the tops of her large tits. My mother very large tits. They were so large that she was literally embarrassed of them. She was in the habit of wearing her sari wrapped around her shoulders to hide their enormous size. They were so large that they would be the first things anybody – especially men – would notice about her. In between her crying, she suddenly became aware of where Vasu was looking. She quickly stepped back and adjusted her sari. The old man now looked at her arse. She was standing a little sideways to him, and when my mother stood sideways her large arse stood out very prominently. It was broad and well-rounded. It was pure heaven to watch her big arse jiggle as she moved around the house. Vasu’s mouth watered. He gulped and looked at this sex goddess whom he longed to take into his arms and… She wiped her face with her sari and looked at him through a corner of her eye. He gulped. She was a beautiful woman, fair-skinned, healthy and with a very sexy face. Sometimes just watching her lips move used to give me a hard-on.

The old man sighed and he suddenly sat down on my mother’s cot. He looked in my direction, vaguely lost in thought. Then he said, “Sunandini, I am not going to hurt you. I promise.” She just kept standing there with her eyes fixed on the floor, her cheeks still moist from her crying. “I just wanted to talk to you,” he told her, his eyes shifting between her huge tits and her big, sexy arse. He sighed again. It was a hot night. He had started to sweat. He kept quite for a while. And then, as if he had been gathering his courage all that time, he said, “If you come and sit her…close to me…for a while, I will go away. Just for while.” His voice was shaking.

She stiffened visibly when she heard this, and she began to breathe rapidly, as if she was going to burst into a fresh torrent of tears. She gazed at him and caught the imploring expression on his face.

“Sunandini,” he whispered. “Please…”

She turned her face away from him, her mind in turmoil. She was well aware that Vasu had been good to her ever since she had come to live in this house. He had helped her so many times. And in return if she… No, no…she could not bring her to even think about it. Her fingers kept tugging at a corner of her sari unconsciously.

She looked at me. I was barely breathing.

“Sar,” she said slowly, “this is not proper…”

“Who will come to know of this? Not a single soul.”

“But…”

She bit her lips, her eyes shut tightly, teardrops still forming at the corners. What was she thinking? Maybe she was thinking about what Parvathiamma had said to her in the kitchen: “Just let him hold you once in a while”. And, how that old woman had threatened to throw her and her son out of the house if she did not do what she wanted her to do. Her son. He was a bright lad. It was important that he should continue with his studies.

She looked at the old man. He patted upon the cot. He said, “Come, sit here. Just for a while. And then I will go away.”

“Sar, Hari will wake up,” said my mother.

“We will not make any noise.”

She took in a deep breath. In her mind she realized that perhaps this was the only solution to the whole matter. Maybe, if she just sat down with this old man for a few moments he would go away. She once again looked at me.

Then she started to step towards him. But Vasu said to her, “Close that door first.”

The interruption seemed to make her undecided again. But she slowly headed for the door. I watched the old man look lustily at her behind. She bolted the door and slowly came and sat down upon the cot. She sat close to the old man, close but not touching. He seemed to relax a bit. He looked at her.

His sex goddess. In flesh and blood, and so close to him. My god! He was drawing his knees together, as if already he was having an erection.

Vasu said, “Sunandini, I know that you are always worried about your son’s education.”

He moved closer to her, so that their shoulders and thighs touched. She stiffened, but she did no move away. She just sat there, her sari wrapped around her tightly, as if it was a fortress, and her eyes more interested on the pale floor of the room. A short, dull laugh unconsciously escaped the old man’s lips. He was so much filled with excitement.

He brought his mouth close to her face and breathed, “From today, whatever you need for him, just ask me. Okay?”

She did not say anything. She moved her face slightly away from him, as if he had bad breath. But he was not really interested in what he was saying or how she had to respond. All his attention was on her sexy lips, her round tits…

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Um” she nodded now, feeling very uncomfortable because she was well aware of where he was looking.

Then the old man said, “Ever since I saw you…I have been…”

He was unable to complete his sentence. Suddenly he caught hold of her hand.

She tried to pull it away at first, then she let him have it. He squeezed it gently, looking at it like a child with a new toy. He laughed again, a short triumphant laugh. A lusty laugh. “Sar…,” she whispered for no reason at all. “Why are you so afraid, Sunandini?” Vasu asked. He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Aiyo!” she said. She glanced at him and then looked away. He kissed her hand again. Then, even as I looked, Vasu gently guided her hand to his loins. Shocked, she withdrew her hand with a jerk and looked away from him. He slowly extended his left arm around her shoulders and held her tightly. “Sar!” she exclaimed.

“Please…” he whispered into her ear, “don’t get up”. And then, with his other hand he slowly parted his mundu to reveal a big, half-erect cock. It looked like a large banana. Through the corner of her eye she saw what he had done and she turned her face away even more. She tried to stand up but he held her down with his one hand. Vasu was a strong man. Even at this age, whenever Raghu was unavailable, he would chop wood, a work in which I was not very skilled. “Please…” he begged. My mother sat stiffly. He caught hold of her hand again. She tried in vain to pull it away. He very slowly brought it to his penis. She cried out lightly when her fingers touched his large organ, as if his it was red hot. She tried her best to free her hand from his grip. Now he used both his hands and, after a short tug-of-war, he made her hold his cock. “Please…” he said like a very desperate beggar. He did not leave her hand. He knew that if he did, she would immediately withdraw it. She did not say anything. She was sweating hard and the shocked expression would not leave her face. He begged again. She shook her head. Without looking at him, as if in a dream, she said, “Hari might wake up, sar.”

“He is fast asleep, Sunandini. He won’t wake up if we don’t make any noise.” She bit her lips and rolled her eyes, as if she was unable to think clearly. Then with my own eyes I saw my mother’s fingers gently tighten around Vasu’s big cock. But she did not turn her face around to look at him or his penis. She sat very stiffly, all the time her face turned towards the wall. Vasu seemed to be feeling dizzy. He left her hand very slowly, and with drunken eyes, he gazed at her hand holding his cock one its own. And the cock – big as it was – was getting more and more erect by the second. He tightened his grip around her shoulder, drawing her closer to him. He sat and for a long time he gazed her hand holding his cock. She was holding it loosely, almost as if she was afraid of crumbling it if she held it tightly. And then, even as he looked, my mother started moving her hand up and down, stroking his big cock very, very gently. He shut his eyes, relaxing completely, and breathed, “This is all I want…Sunandini…this is all I want.” Up and down, up and down, went her hand. Very gently. But she was actually holding his cock for namesake only, rubbing it with just the “O” of her thumb and index finger. My god! What am I seeing! I thought to myself. By the expression on her face you could see that she was not liking it one bit. She was taking it all in like a very awful tasting medicine which she wanted to gulp down as fast as possible. Perhaps she was thinking that the sooner she satisfied him, the earlier he would leave.

As she continued to rub him, he withdrew his arm from her shoulder and sat back, planting his palms behind him on the cot. He just watched her hand do the work. She sat stiffly all the time, not daring to turn her face and look at his organ. But after a while I realized that she was gazing at it from the corner of her eye. This rubbing went on for almost ten minutes. Then, she suddenly grew restless and stopped moving her hand. She said, “Madi, sar. Enough. Hari might wake up.” She could not take it any more. He shook his head impatiently. “No, no,” he said. “You go on…don’t stop now…” She sat undecidedly for a while. Then she whispered to him, “Shall we go into the kitchen?” I wondered with a sudden panic whether she had seen that I was awake. Or had I made some unconscious movements of my body? I was myself having an erection under my lungi which was getting more and more uncomfortable. Vasu’s whole body was tense. Maybe he was on the verge of an ejaculation. His eyes were shut tight and he was totally drenched in sweat. “Don’t stop now…” he seemed to mutter. With a feverish movement, he threw his arms around my mother. “Aiyo, sar!” she exclaimed. She left his penis and started to get up. But she could not get up, for the old man was too strong for her.

 


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