Puchku Babu 1

Puchku Babu 1

Hi, my name is Rahul. I am a Software Engineer in a multinational company presently posted in Pune. I am 33 years old. I have already been on an onsite posting in Australia for 3 years. We have our own house in my native city where my parents live. 

Did all this sound like I am reading out my Matrimony App profile ? No, actually this was just to explain to you that academically, financially and career-wise, I can be termed as quite an eligible bachelor. But unfortunately, it was not so in practical life. When my parents started searching for a bride for me, I was continuously getting rejected by the girls’ families.

 The main drawback for me was very physical - my height. I am actually very short. I am only 4 feet 10 inches tall and just 51 kg in weight. I am not skinny though. Also I had very less growth of facial hair and on my body, just a thin layer down below. Thus with my small size and boyish face and skin, I looked more like a high school boy. Now you know why I was getting rejected by prospective girls and their families. It had come to such a stage that I had lost all hopes of getting married. 

But ultimately one day my fortunes changed. One of the families liked my profile on a matrimonial site. After some initial chats and telephone conversations, my mother and I went to meet the girl and her mother at a Cafe.

The girl's name was Anjana. She was not so pretty in the truest sense of the word but had quite an attractive face. With high cheekbones and a little roundish but oblong face, her looks were quite sensual. She had a rather dusky complexion. Well, I know it's not proper to discuss a girl’s complexion. But I just wanted to put my position in the right perspective. She was 5’5” tall and quite well proportionate for her height, at about 67 kg. That means she would be 7 inches taller and 16 kg heavier than me. That's a lot of difference, I know. But all that didn't matter to me. All I hoped was that they would not reject me because of my height and weight. The girl was just 22 years old, which was also quite a significant difference with me, my age being 33 years. But even then, that age difference of 11 years was okay with me, I was so desperate to marry any girl.

The girl's mother said that, since her husband had expired some years back, and she had to raise her three daughters single-handedly, she would not be able to spend much for the marriage ceremony. That was also not a problem for me. I clarified immediately that I'm totally against dowry. And I am okay with a simple marriage, even just registered marriage would do. I just wanted to get married. And fast. 

My mother took me aside for a private discussion. She had some serious objections with this match. She said that the age difference of 11 years is just too much. Also that the girl was 7 inches taller and 16 kgs heavier than me. And although she was 11 years younger to me, she looked more like she was my elder sister, my mother complained. Also my mother's objections were that the girl's family did not seem to be socially and economically compatible to ours. 

But I didn't care. I argued that whatever the differences, this is the only family who has till now agreed to give their daughter's hand in marriage to me. I cannot let go of this opportunity. I might not get any other girl if I reject the only family who has approved me even with my 4’10” height and small frame. I am 33 already. After this I may only get proposals from widows and divorcees or specially challenged girls. Even for that, there's no guarantee as such.

So finally I was able to convince my mother. I was so desperate after facing so many rejections that as soon as the girl's mother confirmed that they were okay with the match, I insisted on finalising the marriage date at the earliest. I also informed them that there was a possibility that I could get an onsite posting, possibly in some country in Europe in a few months time. As such, I wanted to get the marriage over as soon as possible, so that I could take my newly wedded wife on a paid honeymoon to Europe. Anjana and her mother both got excited at this prospect. So it was decided that we could get the marriage registration done in a week or ten days time, so that I could get Anjana’s passport done immediately, which would be required for her visa processing, as and when I get my onsite posting. The formal marriage ceremony can follow later.

Anjana (or Anju as her mother was calling her by), lived with her mother and sisters in her father's house in a small village town around 200 kms from our city. It was a 2 hour train journey to the nearest station and then an hour’s bus or car ride from the station to their house in the village. Anju’s mother worked as a school teacher in a small private school there. She didn't earn much. With her meagre income she had raised her three daughters in quite a hardship. Her husband was a clerk in a private company before he expired, quite some years back. He just left behind his ancestral house and some insurance for Anju’s mother and daughters.

So, because of a shortage of funds from Anju's mother and shortage of time from my side, the marriage registration took place in our city after ten days without much of a fanfare. We, on our part, organised a small reception for only our close family and friends on that day. A minimal wedding ritual was solemnised. Only Anju and her mother were able to attend from the girl's side. The sisters or close relatives did not travel the long distance for the small ceremony.

I had exhausted my leave and so had to leave for my work location at Pune the very next day. Obviously I insisted that my newly wedded wife Anju come along with me. My parents and Anju’s mother came to see us off at the airport. Anju was over excited for her first experience of boarding an aeroplane. She literally clung to my arms all through the airport. She had dressed up and was glowing with happiness. She insisted on wearing a 2 inch heeled shoe. I had to request her not to wear it. As it is, she is 7 inches taller than me. The top of my head barely came up to her lips level. With a 2-inch heel, she would be 9 inches taller than me. Rather I wore a shoe with 2 inch heels. That reduced our height difference to 5 inches. That was still quite noticeable, for the wife to be 5 inches taller than the husband. But still, I didn't mind. After all, I now have a wife, that too, a tall and attractive one at that.

I forgot to mention one point. Anju's mother, who is now my mother-in-law, was quite an impressive personality. She had an extraordinary figure with an imposing height of 5’10” and was solidly built at around 90 kgs. She wasn't fat though, no muscles either. Just solid mass, with a full feminine figure. She had a dusky complexion like her daughter, with high cheekbones and round face, giving her 41 year old tall well built figure a strong personality. 

At the airport, when bidding us the final goodbye, after hugging her daughter, my mother-in-law turned towards me. When she embraced me, my 4’10” and 51 kgs just got completely engulfed inside her 5’10” and 90 kg huge body. My face got completely squashed inside her twin big breasts because that was the maximum my height could reach up to her tall and buxom figure. She had her two solid arms around my back, hiding my slim body totally inside her huge frame. She had her big fat palm behind my head and was lightly pressing my face inside the crevice of her two huge soft breasts. She was doing it lovingly and playfully, but the sheer weight and pressure of her hands were enough to make me panic. It was all darkness for me. I thought I was going to suffocate inside her breasts. But I didn't. My nose quite snugly fit inside her deep cleavage. The mixed aroma of her perfume and her sweat was making me dizzy. I just felt my arms going halfway around her big, firm and solid waist. My MIL held me with my face stuck inside her breasts for a little more than a minute. She bent her head down and kissed the top of my head. Then slowly took my face out of her big breasts, held me at arms length, smiled sweetly at me, pressed my cheeks between her long fat fingers and let me go.

I had a small one BHK flat in Pune, Hinjewadi area. Anju proved to be an able housewife. Within a few days, she took control of everything. Even me. We had a whirlwind kind of marital love. I was on the moon. Literally. Most of the time, Anju used to just sweep me off my feet and pick me up in her cradle. She would carry me in her arms over her well rounded breasts. She used to just walk around the rooms holding me on her breasts and gently rocking me in her arms like a baby, smiling sweetly down at me. She was 7 inches taller than me. My face would be just near her neck, the top of my head barely reaching her chin. With her being 7 inches taller and 16 kgs heavier than me, I just couldn't put up any resistance when she just forcefully picked me up in her arms whenever she felt like it. Every Sunday afternoon she used to bathe me with her own hands. She used to be in her nightie or sari and made me stand naked in the bathroom, while she rubbed soap and then rinsed and washed me with her soft hands. On some days, she even used to feed me with her own hands. Although I was 33 and she was just 22, which is 11 years younger to me, I used to feel more like her child than her husband. When I asked her why she carried me in her arms and lap and fed me and bathed me, Anju said, “I love your cute little body and the way you look so weak and helpless when I forcefully pick you up in my cradle.”

Anju's mother used to call up quite frequently. She used to regularly insist that we visit my in-laws' house in their village. I have not yet visited their house even once, since we had to come to my workplace immediately after our marriage. She would have mature family-related conversations with her daughter. But while talking to me, my mother in law would suddenly resort to baby-talk. Like, “How's my bachha (child) ? How's my Puchku babu ? Listen my baby, before going to bed don't forget to do your ‘susu’ ( meaning - going to the toilet ). If you have to do ‘susu’ at night, don't go alone. You are so small, you might fall down in your sleep. Call Anju, she will take you to the bathroom.”

I didn't like the name ‘Puchku’, she used to call me by. ‘Puchku’ means ‘tiny’. Yes, I know that I am short, but still I am an adult. I work in such a big company, with such important responsibilities. I have earned my respect at work from my seniors and colleagues, because of my efficiency and dedication at work. But at home I'm just treated like a small child. 

Anyways, with Anju and her mother's continuous insistence, I could manage ten days leave. It was planned that we would first visit my in-laws' house in the village. Then, we would spend the last few days of the leave with my parents in the city. We took a flight to our city. From there we went straight to the station to catch a train to my In-laws house in the village. That train ride took us about 2 hours. From the station, we booked a local taxi to take us to Anju's home, which was about an hour's car ride. 

In the car I had dozed off. I woke up when we reached Anju's house. It was late in the day by then, around 12 noon or so. Both the weather and the welcome we received on reaching were quite warm. I had not met Anju's sisters till then. I only knew that their names were Manju and Ranju ( shortened from Ranjana.) The differences between the three sisters were 2 years each. My wife Anju was 22, Manju was 20 and Ranju was 18. I also heard that my wife Anju at 5’5” was actually the shortest in their house. 

When the car pulled up at the gate of their house, all three ladies came rushing out to receive us. It was then that I saw the sisters, my sisters-in-law or Salis as we say in Hindi. If I thought that my mother-in-law was very tall, I was astonished to see that Manju, the 2nd sister, was even taller than her by an inch. She was 5’11” tall and athletically built. She weighed, which I later found out to be 75 kgs, with a well-toned figure. She was a district-level athlete and a Kabaddi player. Ranjana or Ranju, the 3rd sister was a young girl of 18 years, 5’8” tall and 72 kgs of weight. She was a little chubby. She was studying in Class 12th. 

When all these three tall and big ladies of heights 5'10" ; 5'11" and 5'8" stood around me to welcome me, with my 4’10” height and 51 kgs weight, although I was 33 years of age, I looked like a small schoolboy in front of them. In fact Manju actually knelt down in front of me and Ranju bent down with her hands on her knees to come down to my level and look at my face. 

“Ohh ! What a cute little Jiju we have. Our Puchku jiju,” said Manju. 

Manju squeezed my cheeks between her long fingers as if I was a small child. 

Ranju smiled at her mother and sisters and said, “See how small and cute he looks in front of me. And to think, I'm just 18 and Jiju is 33 years old. He is not even coming up to my shoulders. Chho cute.”

My mother-in-law intervened. “Enough girls! Leave Rahul now. Go and take their luggage inside and keep them upstairs in Anju's room. I am taking them inside. You both chat with your Jiju later.”

(Here let me explain. Jiju is the short and loving form of Jijaji, which in Hindi and other north Indian languages means elder sister's husband.)

It was an old two-storey bungalow sort of a house. There was a small courtyard all around the house, with various trees and plants in it. There were high walls all around the courtyard with tall trees planted on the sides. They lived on the first floor. A staircase ran up from one side of the building right up to the first floor. 

As the sisters Manju and Ranju carried our heavy travel bags upstairs, Anju said, “Mummy, it's too hot, I need a bath. I'm going into the bathroom upstairs. You take care of Rahul.” 

Anju turned to me and said, “You know dear that I take a long time in the bathroom. I'm taking my bath upstairs, you freshen up here. There's a hand pump at the side, Mummy will show you.” Anju hurried up the stairs.

I protested, “I'll wait till you finish. My clothes are in the bags which your sisters have taken upstairs. Besides, how can I freshen up in the open ?”

Anju shouted back from up the stairs, “Now don't fret, nothing to feel shy about. Take off your clothes and have your bath. Only Mummy is there, she will get you a towel.”

My mother-in-law already had her fat arm around my shoulder, holding me tightly to her huge body. My head was actually tucked under her armpit. She bent down from her imposing 5’10” height to peer down at my face and said, “Come my little darling, let's get freshened up. Don't feel shy. Everybody washes like this in the open in the village. Nobody can see you, it is all covered by walls and trees, so what's your problem? Manju, Ranju are upstairs, they won't come down. Come my sweetie, you must be very tired. Freshen up fast, then we will all have lunch together.” 

Saying this, she just bent over, wrapped her one big hand around my thighs, and stood up, picking me up with me sitting on her arm. Before I could even start protesting, she started walking carrying me easily in just one hand and walked towards a hand pump at the back side of the building. I was so embarrassed. My mother in law was 41 and I was 33, which means she was just 8 years older than me. And now she was carrying me in her arms like I was a small child. She put me down on the floor and reached for my t-shirt. She just pulled it off over my head. Before I could realize it, she just held my pants around the waist and pulled them down. I found myself standing in my undies. She tried to pull down my underwear. I resisted. I looked up to my MIL in shame, my face coming just up to her breasts. 

My MIL smiled sweetly down at me from her 5’10” height and said, "Arrey baap re, kitna sharma raha mera bacha, tu itna chota sa toh hai, mere samne toh 7-8 saal ka bacha jaisa hai, aur 7-8 saal jaise bache ko sharmana nahi chaiye. Ohh my, why are you feeling so shy, my baby? You are just like a 7-8-year-old kid to me. And 7-8 year old babies should not feel shy." Saying this she took off my undies. I was naked like a newborn baby in the open, just a few minutes after reaching their home.

She poured water all over me and rubbed me with soap. She kept on saying, "Kitna pyara sa, chota sa bacha jaisa hai aur itna sharm kar raha tha. Such a cute little baby and you are feeling so shy." 

I did not have many pubic hairs and also my wife removed hairs from my privates as well, which made me look like a kid. I also do not have a big dick, just a small 2.5 inches one which can grow up to 4.5 inches max when erect. While bathing me, my mother-in-law kept on saying, "Kitna pyara sa bacha hai, tumhara nunku bhi kitna pyara chota sa bachey jaisa. Dekho dekho, tumhara nunku toh meri ungli se bhi chhoti hai. What a cute baby, your prick is also like a baby's. Look look, your dick is even smaller than my little finger".

After this, she turned me so that my back was in her full view. She started rubbing my back and buttocks with soap and water. She kept on saying, "How cute little bums you have, so soft like butter, ekdum makhan jaisa. Tumko to nangu pangu rehne me sharm ana hi nahi chahiye".

She poured water on me and after having finished she just gently smacked my wet bums. She said, "Tum sach mooch bachey jaise ho, tum mere damad nahi, mere liye ek chota sa bacha ho. You really are a kid. You are not my son-in-law, but my little baby."

Meanwhile, I heard somebody coming down the stairs; I heard someone calling, " Maa".

I recognized the voice, it was Manju.

I just pleaded with my mother-in-law, “Mummyji please ask Manju not to come to this side.”

MIL laughed and said, "Arey to kya hoga, bache ko to sab nangu pangu dekhte hi hai. What is the problem, there's no harm if a baby is seen naked ?"

I requested, “Please, Sasuma. Mujhe bahut zyada sharam aa raha hai. Please Mummy ji, I am feeling very embarrassed.”

My mother-in-law said, “Zyada sharmao mat, aisa kab tak chalega. Tum toh ek chota sa bacha hi ho. Thik hai mai Manju ko bolti hu ruk jane ke liye. Don't feel so shy. How long can this go on ? You are only a small baby. Ok, I'm asking Manju not to come now.”

MIL said in a louder voice, “Manju, idhar mat aa. Don't come here.”

Manju asked, “Why Ma ?”

MIL laughed and said, “Mai tere chotey se, pyare se Jiju ko nehla rahi hu. Uske sare kapde utara hua hai…… I'm bathing your cute little brother-in-law. He is not having his clothes on…”.

Manju started laughing loudly, "Kya bol rahi ho maa? Jiju matlab humlogo ka Puchku babu nangu pangu hai ? What are you saying Mummy ? Our Puchku Babu is fully naked ?” Manju burst out laughing.

MIL replied laughing, "Haan, par abhi bahut sharma raha hai; bahut mushkil se mai isko nehlai. Fir bad me kabhi….. Yess, but now he is feeling very shy; I had a lot of problems bathing him. Not now, later perhaps .. ".

Manju was protesting playfully, "Mummy it's not fair, Jiju to mere samne ek chota bacha jaisa hi lagta hai, fir mujhse bhala kya sharm. Jiju looks like a child in front of me, so why is he feeling shy in front of me ?"

Mother-in-law shouted back, “Baad me kabhi; abhi to bas niche ek towel sukhne ke liye pehle dia tha, usi se poch rahi hu, ek minute me ho jayega. Fir aana nichey. Later on perhaps. I am now rinsing him with a towel, which was here for drying. It will just be a minute. Then you can come down.”

Mother-in-law completely rinsed me with a towel. After that, she wrapped it near my waist. The towel was just above my knees. She put her left hand below my waist hoisted me high up near her breasts and started walking into the house.

Manju started laughing seeing me being carried in the arms of my Mother-in-law with just a short towel on my bare body. She clapped her hands with glee, "Wow Mummy, Jiju toh aap ki goud mein bilkul chota baby lag raha hai. Jiju is just looking like a small baby in your arms".

My mother-in-law started carrying me up the stairs and inside the house. Manju, my 20-year-old 5’11” tall Sali (sister-in-law) followed us laughing and requesting her mother, “Maa, ek baar do na mujhe Puchku Jiju ko meri godi mey. Mummy just let me carry my Puchku Jiju in my arms, for once please.”

Can you just imagine the scene? A 41-year-old middle-aged woman, 5’10” tall and 90 kgs in weight, just now bathed a 33-year-old fully grown-up adult man of 4’10” height and 51 kgs in weight, stripping him fully naked. The 41 year old Sasuma was now easily carrying her 33 year old Damad (son-in-law) tightly held in just one arm with only a short towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

My worst fear now was, that the towel was so short and so loosely wrapped, it might come off any time, while I was being helplessly carried by my giant mother-in-law towards my giggling Salis. What if the towel comes loose and falls off now…..??

(To be continued……)

( Acknowledgement - The idea of this story was shared with me by one of my avid readers. He wanted me to develop a story with his plot. I thank him for his idea. )