Chandigarh L&C - 2

Some Statistical data for better visualisation:-

Arjun 40 years.               5’3” 64 kg
Harmeet Kaur 50 years 5’9” 90 kg
Babita 22 years.            5’11” 80 kg
Kamla didi 60 years      5’10” 85 kg


The next Saturday afternoon, Babita hosted a casual get-together with her friends from her university basketball team.

Arjun gets a call on his mobile. It was Babita. “Arjun ji, can you please come downstairs for five minutes.” Her voice was very polite. 

Six girls, all tall, athletic, and loud, came over in jeans and tees—most of them in the 22–25 age range, all comfortably above 5'8", all clearly strong.

The living room buzzed with chatter and mischief.

Arjun entered the room cautiously. “Are you sure I should be here?”

“Yes,” Babita smirked. “You’re the showstopper.”

“What ?!”

Babita clapped her hands. “Girls, presenting—Arjun ji! Our spoken English teacher. He is a Software engineer, 40 years old but looks like a baby squirrel.”

The girls laughed and waved. “Hi Sir!”

“Wait—he’s forty?!” one asked, her mouth open.

Arjun cleared his throat, “Yes, I am. And I think I should go n…”

Babita didn’t let him finish. She stepped behind him, and with no warning, bent down and hoisted him over her shoulder like a sack of rice.

“See? Told you he’s light ! Barely 64 kilos.”

“Babita!” Arjun yelled, squirming. “Put me down! I’m a grown man!”

“Exactly,” one girl teased, “You’re a grown man being carried by a 22-year-old college girl.”

Babita twirled around once, causing the room to erupt in laughter, and gently set him on the couch.

“I’m not part of the entertainment!” Arjun snapped, trying to compose himself.

“But you are entertaining,” said another girl. “Babita, can we try?”

“What? No! You can’t just—” Arjun began, but Babita winked and stepped aside.

“Go ahead. He doesn’t bite. Much.”

One of the girls, a 5'9" fitness enthusiast, came up and lifted him from under his arms, hoisting him into a cradle carry effortlessly.

“Oh my god!” she laughed, “He’s lighter than my backpack!”

“Hey! This is humiliating,” Arjun grumbled as another girl took her turn, swinging him up in a fireman's carry and walking around the room.

They passed him around like a plush toy, each girl trying a different lift—piggyback, over-the-shoulder, double-arm chest lift. Arjun tried to resist, but his protests were drowned in giggles and teasing.

“You’re lucky we like you,” one said.
“Otherwise, we’d kidnap you and make you our team mascot,” said another, bouncing him gently on her lap.

Arjun gave up, lying limply across three of their laps as they posed for a selfie.

“I’m forty and you are all half my age” he muttered to himself.

“Exactly,” Babita smirked, “Which is why we’re taking extra care of you.”

Babita clapped her hands. “Let’s play a game.”

Arjun, already wary from being tossed, raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

“Lifting challenge. But with a twist,” said Babita, pulling out a thick scarf.

“You’ll be blindfolded. We’ll carry you one by one, and you’ll have to guess who it is.”

Arjun stood up, flustered. “No, no, no. Absolutely not. I am a 40-year-old man, not a party prop for you college girls !”

The girls giggled. 

Harmeet Aunty, who had just entered with snacks, chuckled. “Beta, tumhare protest karne se kuch farak nahi padta. Bas maza aata hai.”

Before he could escape, Babita tied the scarf snugly over his eyes. “Don’t worry, Arjun ji. We’ll handle you very gently.”

One of the girls immediately swooped in from behind and lifted him up in a bridal cradle carry, her biceps flexing as she adjusted his weight.

“Guess who?” she whispered.

Arjun squirmed in her arms, face burning. “I—I don’t know… Sunita?”

“Wrong!” she laughed and gently bounced him. “It’s Mehak!”

Another girl came next, grabbing him under the arms and hoisting him up so he sat high on her shoulders. “Who now?”

“Ritika?”

“Nope! Neha!” she said, parading him around.

Arjun groaned in helpless embarrassment as the game went on—piggyback, fireman’s carry, lap lifts, shoulder rides—he guessed wrong most of the time.

“Why am I always wrong?!”

“Because we all feel the same to you—stronger than you,” Babita grinned. “You're just a lightweight parcel.”

Finally, Babita herself lifted him in an over the shoulder carry—with him facing her back, legs dangling in front. “Guess now?”

He sighed. “Babita…”

“Correct. I’m proud of you, little champ,” she cooed, spinning him slowly in place.


The next day, Harmeet Aunty laid down the new house rule over breakfast.

“From now on, on weekends, Arjun is not allowed to walk on his own inside this house.”

“What?! Aunty!” Arjun nearly dropped his cup.

Harmeet folded her arms. “You’re too precious. What if you trip? Hurt your back? No beta, from now on, either I or Babita or one of the girls will carry you wherever you need to go. Bas.”

Babita chimed in, pulling out a pink frilly apron. “And today, you’ll help us in the kitchen. But only on one condition—you wear this.”

Arjun stared at the apron with horror. “That’s for a child!”

“It matches your energy,” Babita giggled.

Before he could protest more, Babita scooped him up in a hip carry, walked him into the kitchen, and gently seated him on a high counter.

“There. Safe and cute.”

They tied the apron around him, and to make matters worse, Babita added two pink hairclips to his hair, giggling as Arjun scowled.

Every few minutes, as they moved around the kitchen, he was carried from one side to another. Babita would lift him bridal-style and plop him onto a stool. Harmeet would hold him on her lap while chopping vegetables.

“Can I please just walk to the sink?” he begged.

“No,” Babita replied sweetly. “House rule.”

Later, when they had to set the table in the drawing room, Harmeet picked him up and walked out like he was her handbag.

“Arjun, you're 64 kilos of helpless protest,” she chuckled.

Babita, meanwhile, whispered, “We should never let him touch the floor again.”


It was a quiet Monday evening when Harmeet clapped her hands with delight and exclaimed, “Oye, our Kamla Didi is back!”

Babita looked up from her phone. “Our old maid? She’s back?”

“Of course! After a whole month’s leave. She called me saying that she will be here by evening. And guess what?” 

Harmeet turned to Arjun, who was sipping tea nervously. 
“She’s going to stay with you tonight.”

Arjun choked on his tea. “What?!”

Harmeet nodded firmly. “Yes. You’re all alone upstairs. You might get scared. And who knows—what if you have a nightmare and there’s no one to hold you?”

Babita added with a grin, “Don’t worry, Kamla Didi is very strong. You’ll be in safe arms.”

Just then, the front door opened, and Kamla Didi entered with her usual booming presence. She was 60 years old, clad in a loose cotton saree, with thick arms and a wide frame. A big woman—5’10”, 85 kg; thick bone structure, no fat, full solid mass. She had a slight dusky complexion and with a husky voice and a gentle smile. 

“Arerey, so this is the Munnu baby you told me about, Madam ji?” she said, eyes twinkling as she looked at Arjun.

“Aunty please—I’m not a baby— I'm a forty year old fully grown up man,” Arjun began.

Before he could finish, Kamla Didi casually walked over, slipped one strong arm under his knees and the other behind his back, and lifted him up in one smooth movement, cradling him like a toddler.

“There now,” she cooed, gently bouncing him. “Haan haan, bohot bhari lag raha hai! Hahaha… not really, you’re light like a sack of atta.”

“Aunty—Kamla Didi—please! I’m forty!” Arjun struggled, but her hold didn’t budge.

“Hmm. And I’m sixty. So?” she said, walking around the living room with him. “I’ve carried two sons and three grandsons. You’ll be the easiest.”

Babita laughed till she almost fell off her chair. “Didi, should we give you baby lotion too?”

Kamla nodded thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea. He has such soft cheeks.”

That night, after finishing her work and changing into her cotton nightgown, Kamla Didi marched up to Arjun’s flat. He had tried locking the door but Babita had, of course, handed her the spare keys.

“Beta,” she called sweetly, “have you brushed your teeth before going to bed?”

“I don't…I'm not a baby,” Arjun said, typing a message on his mobile.

“So what if you're not a baby? You must,” she said, marching in and lifting him again, this time slinging him over her shoulder like a bag of rice. Arjun kicked and protested softly, but her grip was firm and loving.

She put him down inside the bathroom and stood outside the door, with her hands on her hips. “Now brush, otherwise I'll come inside and…”

She did not have to complete her sentence. Arjun brushed his teeth like a good boy.

Once done, she just bent down and scooped him up in her thick arms. Arjun was at his wits end. “Kamla didi, kya kar rahey ho ? What are you doing? I'm 40 and you are 60, already an old woman. How can you…?”

Kamla didi was smiling looking down at Arjun, being carried away helplessly in her strong arms. 

“How can I .. what ? Lift you up like you are a baby? Look at yourself dear. You are so small and weak in my arms baby. This old woman is much stronger than you, my Engineer Sa'ab. Chalo abhi so jaao. Kal phir office hai.”

She sat down on his bed and laid him across her lap, rocking him slowly as she hummed an old punjabi lullaby.

“I’m not sleepy,” he grumbled.
Kamla tapped his nose. 
“No talking. Time to rest.”

By 11 PM, the tall old maid was comfortably snoring on the edge of Arjun’s bed, with him tucked into her arms like a child, his head on her shoulder and one of her thick arms around his waist. He was snoring too, lying on her lap. 

The next afternoon. Arjun, the 40-year-old bachelor software engineer, had just finished another online meeting. He stretched and rubbed his eyes, feeling a bit drowsy.

Kamla Didi entered the room.
Her dupatta was tied snugly around her waist, and her thick grey braid swung behind her as she stomped up the stairs to the first floor.

Before Arjun could react, Kamla had reached the landing, beaming. “Aiyo mere chhote sahab! You look so thin… have these tall madams even been feeding you properly?” she laughed.

“Kamla Didi! Don't disturb me now !” Arjun managed, standing up awkwardly, but before he could say more—
WHOOSH!

With one fluid motion, Kamla scooped him up in her powerful arms, one hand under his knees, the other behind his back.

“Oho! You are as light as a pillow! I thought a 40-year-old man would at least feel like a grown-up, but tu toh bilkul baby jaisa hai!” she teased, rocking him side to side in her arms.

Arjun blushed hard. “Didi! Let me down... I’m not a child!”

“Bas bas… sharma mat. You’ll always be my baby babu,” she cooed, kissing his forehead, and then sat herself on the couch—still holding him in her lap like a bundle. 

She cradled his head on her shoulder, patting him gently.

That’s when Babita walked in from her practice session, tall and glowing in her tracksuit. Seeing Arjun curled up in Kamla’s lap, she grinned wide.

“Kamla Didi! You’ve turned him into a baby again, haan?” she giggled.

“Haan beti, what to do? He fit perfectly on my lap. So soft and sweet like a warm laddoo.”

Babita ruffled Arjun’s hair. “You know, Arjun ji, you’ve become everyone's carry-doll in this house now. Maybe we should take turns feeding you too!”

Kamla chuckled, “That’s what I was thinking! I’ll make khichdi today and feed him with my hands. Uske baad ek thoda tummy massage and he’ll take a nap on my lap.”

Babita nodded. “Perfect plan, Didi. I’ll bring him to the park tomorrow. My friends are dying to meet this famous toy boy of mine again.”

Arjun groaned softly in Kamla’s lap, knowing full well he had no chance of escaping their plans. Kamla pulled his head gently back into her chest. “Shhh… don’t worry, babu. Didi is here now. You won’t even need to walk anywhere. One of us will always carry you. Samjhe?”

Babita smirked. “That’s our house rule now. No walking. You’re our little prince.”

Later that evening...
As Kamla fed him warm khichdi spoon by spoon, humming an old Punjabi lullaby, Arjun sat cross-legged on her lap, head resting on her shoulder. Every few minutes, she would lift him up like a doll and rock him gently in her lap, much to his embarrassment and hidden comfort.

When bedtime came, Kamla insisted on staying upstairs with him.

She changed into her cotton night salwar suit, tucked him in, and then—without asking—lifted him like a child, sat down on the bed with her back propped up, and cradled him in her arms. One of his legs dangled off her thigh, his cheek pressed to her soft arm.
“Just the way you like it, babu,” she whispered. “Didi’s arms are your home.”

He sighed. “I’m a 40-year-old man, Didi.”

She chuckled. “And I’m a 60-year-old woman who can still carry this 40 year old man like my baby boy. Now hush.”

The night passed peacefully—Arjun asleep in Kamla Didi’s lap, as she gently rocked him and watched the moonlight stream through the curtains.

The early morning sun filtered through the curtains of Arjun’s modest apartment. He yawned, still half-asleep, only to feel warm, strong arms lifting him gently.
“Utho mere babu… chai bhi ready hai,” Kamla whispered.

Arjun stirred. “Didi... I can get up by myself.”

But she was already cradling him, holding him close to her chest, swaying slightly like a mother calming her toddler. He felt her soft cotton kurta against his cheek and groaned. “Didi please, not again…”

Kamla chuckled. “Not Didi, beta. From today, call me Mummy.”

“What?” he said, blinking at her.

“Yes, haan! You have no mummy here, you live alone, and I’m the one feeding you, putting you to sleep. And from now on, if you are naughty, I'll bathe you also. So, from now on…Mummy.”

Before he could protest, she kissed his forehead and added with a grin, “Samjhe, mere baby babu?”

Blushing, Arjun muttered under his breath, “Okay… Mummy…”

“Louder!” she teased.

“M-Mummy…” he said shyly.

“Wah! That’s like my good boy,” she said, planting another kiss on his forehead.

Later, as he tried to get out of bed, she stopped him. “Bathroom jaana hai? Chalo.”

“No, Didi—I mean, Mummy! I can walk—”

“Nahi! You’ll slip. I’ll take you,” she said with authority.

And before he could resist, she swooped him up again in a firm front cradle carry, effortlessly walking toward the bathroom. His legs dangled awkwardly. His face flushed with embarrassment.

“Mummy please, anyone could see—”

“No one will see. And even if they do, let them. You’re my baby. Mummy ke haath se hi sab hoga,” she said, entering the bathroom with him. 

Arjun protested, “But Mummy, please put me down, I want to …” 

He could not complete the sentence in embarrassment. 

Kamla didi smiled, “You want to what, beta ? Susuu, na ? Karo na, mummy se kya sharmana ? I'll look the other way.”

She changed her hold on Arjun, making him face the commode, while she held him straight from the back. His feet dangling 6 inches above the floor. Kamla held Arjun with one hand around his stomach. She held his little willy with her other hand’s fat fingers. She looked the other way and said, “Ok baby, I'm not looking… susuu kar lo.”

What could Arjun do, he started peeing, hanging awkwardly from the tall big old woman's arms. 

Embarrassment at its height !!


( To be continued…)