The Brave Pedestrian

And thereupon it came to pass, on the Fourteenth Day of Za'karah, that The #Messenger (blessings!) and his tribe, whom he had led away from the cursed land of B'azilah, were resting in the mountains of Zo'am where they had taken up residence. And Za'kilah, fifth wife of The #Messenger (blessings!), saw that the toilet bowls were filthy, having been shat upon by her fifteen children, but the toilet brush and broom were nowhere to be found. "And how, in the name of the Great Rickrack Rock, am I supposed to clean up this mess?" Za'kilah questioned The #Messenger (blessings!). The words of The #Messenger (blessings!) issued forth from the divine pie hole. "You may cut your hair and tie it to my staff, woman, and it shall be your toilet brush and broom. And you may cut the shredded gown on your body, which you brought from your father's household 15 moons ago, and it shall be the swab to wipe the floor with. Ask me no further questions, for th...

[Friendship, love and trust have many meanings. This is an erotic story about all those beautiful emotions.] He lay awake in bed, waiting for her to finish her kitchen winding-up chores and join him. By the time she came in and began undressing for bed, he was very nearly asleep. With drowsy eyes, he gazed at her taking off her saree. She had grown a bit plump of late, but it only made him love her more. "There is more of you to hug now than when I married you," he sighed, wrapping his arms and legs around her in the dim light of the bedlamp. "This is sheer luxury!" She reciprocated by kissing him, and then turned around, determined to fall asleep quickly. Tomorrow was another tough day ahead, and she would have to cook a full formal lunch, keeping in mind his guest. Not just the daal-chaval that she made on days when she was feeling tired. "Turn off the lights, please," she said sleepily. "Not yet," he breathed in her ear. "Let me ...

Maharashtrian married women routinely use "Murdya" or "Melya" (meaning a dead man, a corpse) for referring to their husbands. For instance, if a man is demanding sex and a woman decides to yield, she may say something like, "Ghe re melya" or "Ghe re murdya" (Take it, you dead man). It's a derogatory word, but generally acceptable, and men don't react to it very badly. Having such a vocabulary makes it easier for a woman to deal with her husband's pressure to have sex. By routinely referring her husband in the third person as "melya", she reconciles to a man's more frequent need for sexual activity as something that is part of his nature. She may not like it, but she resigns herself to it. She does not take it personally when he forces himself on her, any more than she would feel violated by, say, a child that insisted on suckling. The question of "marital rape" does not arise in this cultural context, eve...

Our greatest joy in life can leave the biggest hole in our hearts, she reflected, standing before the mirror, studying the way her saree now draped around her. It looked good. To an outsider, it would look perfect. It would look as though nothing had changed. But everything had changed. Oh God, how rapidly everything had changed! Ten months? No, less! Far less. Tears welled up in her eyes. She wept for herself. And then she wept for her husband. Sobbing softly, she wept for them both. Just a few weeks had elapsed since she had first felt those lumps near her armpit, while soaping herself in the bathroom. Concerned, she had called her husband in. He had stepped into the wet bathroom, grinning. “So, you want me to help you soap yourself, huh? With pleasure, darling, with pleasure!” Suppressing the anxiety that was already gnawing at the pit of her stomach, she had handed him the bar of soap, and allowed him to soap her breasts, closing her eyes. It never ceased to amaze h...