Saali - 1

My Badi Saali (Elder Sister-in-law) Mousumi is actually 1 year younger than me. But she is 4 years older than my wife. Not my wife's own sister though, but her first cousin. My wife doesn't have any sister of her own. Mousumi is my wife's Uncle's daughter. But they are quite a close knit family. This uncle's family lives in the adjacent flat of my in-laws’ flat. So whenever we visit my in-law's place, this Saali comes over to meet us. Although Mousumi is younger than me by 1 year, since she is 4 years older than my wife, I also call her Mousumi didi, since my wife calls her Didi (elder sister). So Mousumi insists on me to call her didi too.

I had heard from my wife that this Saali of mine, Mousumi, is not getting married, although at 39 now, she may have crossed the conventional marriageable age. She always gets rejected by the grooms’ families. The reason ? Mousumi was a little too healthy. She was not a flabby sort of fat, but had a solid body of about 90 kgs in weight. Coupled with that with her height of 5’10”, she looked huge. To make matters worse, she was not so good looking. Not bad either, a roundish face, just plain simple looks. Not so fair too. I know this tantamount to body shaming in today's parlance. But all these are typical problems of our Indian middle class society for a woman not getting a good husband through arranged marriage. If one does love marriage, anything goes.

But otherwise she is a very good lady. She is a MA in English and is a teacher of senior classes in a local girls school. She is skilled in music too. The best part was that she is very lively. Rather too talkative, I would say. And just because she was my Saali of almost my same age, she would always tease me. Standing beside her I felt so awkward. Why ? Because I'm just 5’3” and 63 kilos. Yes, I am a small guy, even by Indian standards. Can you imagine, she was 7 inches taller than me and about 27 kilos heavier. When we meet during my regular visits to my wife's parents, Mousumi purposely comes and stands by my side. She knew that I was self conscious about her being so much taller than me. So Mousumi loved to tease me by purposely dwarfing me by standing beside me or behind me and towering over me. The top of my head just about reached under her chin. She used to playfully put her hand on my shoulders, so that the height difference between us gets even more accentuated.

This incident I am narrating today happened during one of our visits to my in-laws. One evening we went to a marriage invitation from my wife's distant relative’s family. The place was quite far, around 25 kms from our house. My wife could not go as she was sick; so my mother-in-law also stayed back. My mother in law insisted that somebody from the family must attend the invitation, otherwise it looks bad. Typical middle class sentiments. Although unwilling, I had no other option but to go with this sister-in-law. At that time, I was 40 years of age, so Mousumi was 39 then. So with her height of 5’10” / 90 kg against my 5’3”/ 63 kg, she was literally dwarfing me all throughout the evening at the wedding ceremony. The more I wanted to move away from her, the more she came and stood beside me. I was looking so small standing beside this huge woman, looking even bigger with her Banarasi sari draped around her big body and slight heels. The top of my head was barely crossing her shoulders.

At marriage parties, relatives and friends make a lot of fun and joke with each other. With our height and size difference, we were the butt of quite a few jokes. There were some relatives of my in-law's who I had not met earlier or possibly didn't recognise. We were standing, as usual, with Mousumi standing behind me, with both her hands on my shoulders, totally dwarfing me. She does this out of habit now, not meaning any harm, but it happens naturally now. A couple of girls, possibly younger than me, came forward to meet us with a smiling face. They seemed to be some distant cousins of my wife and this sister-in-law. They came and greeted Mousumi and said, “Arrey Mousumi didi, which class does your son go to ?”

Mousumi didn't get the joke but I did. Mousumi replied, “Aarey nahi rey ! He is not my son. He is Aman, my sister's husband. He is an Engineer in a big company.” 

The ladies laughed gleefully and said holding my hand, “Oh sorry sorry ! Please don't mind Aman bhaiya, you look so little standing in front of your Saali, we thought that you were her son. We actually know who you are. We are also your saalis, so we were joking with you.”

Then some girls called us saying that a group photograph is being taken with the bride and groom. So we all rushed to the spot. We were already late. Almost everybody had taken their positions. It was quite a big group of around 30-35 men, women and children. There were 3 rows formed. The shorter people are standing in the front two rows. The kids and some younger ones were also squatting or kneeling on the floor. Since we were late and since Mousumi is tall, she went and stood in the back row. Those two girls were calling me to come in the front row with them, because they were also short. But since I hardly knew anybody there, I preferred to stay with Mousumi. But the problem was, I was not able to see anything. The men standing in front of me were all much taller than me. So I was actually staring at their back or head from behind. 

But as the photographer said, “Now ready everybody, say cheese”, I suddenly found myself going up in the air. But I couldn't look back, since I knew the photographer was clicking the photo. I could see the photographer now between the heads of two guys standing in front of me. And I could feel two strong hands wrapped around just under my waist lifting me up from behind. I could also feel two big hard breasts pressing on my back. Also I could sense Mousumi’s face right beside my face looking over my shoulder. 

She jokingly whispered in my ear, “Jijaji, you are as tall as me now.” 

But I could not respond to her, nor could I ask her to put me down. As others will hear me and might turn back to see me lifted in my Saali’s arms. 

Mousumi kept on holding me up, as the photographer said that he was taking another shot. Also some family members were giving their mobiles to him to take photos on their phones. That was taking time. I could feel Mousumi’s breath behind my ears. And her fresh sweet perfume filled my senses. Also an odd but exciting pain was starting to form under my belly. But that did not last long. The photo session was over, so Mousumi quickly put me down. I turned back to look up at her. She gave me a sly wink and put her fat arms around my shoulders.

After dinner got through, it got quite late. Since we had to travel far, we got up and said goodbye to our hosts there. 

We tried booking a cab but no cabs were available. We came walking to the main road. We tried to catch any vehicle going towards our side.

Even the yellow taxis, one or two we found, refused to go towards our side, since it was past 10.30 pm. Ultimately I caught a goods vehicle, which was loading packets from a godown. It was a maruti van. When I explained our situation to him, the driver agreed. He was charging us double the normal fare. I negotiated with him but he reduced it just a little. I had to agree, since there were no other alternatives. 

The driver tried to make space on the back seat, by readjusting the cartons on the back seat. While getting on to the vehicle we found that only one of us could go, there was no space to sit for the second person. That was ridiculous. But nothing could be done. 

Since obviously I with my weight of 63 kgs could not carry my sister-in-law of 90 kgs for this 25 km distance, she offered to carry me on her lap for the full journey. I hesitated, but since there were no other options, I had to agree at last.

My sister-in-law first sat on the seat. I went and sat meekly on her lap. The car started.

My saali held me on her lap sitting straight on her lap with my legs going over her knees. She put her hands under my thighs and literally lifted me a little and pulled me inside on her lap. She held me tightly around my waist like a seat belt. Since my head was coming right in front of her vision, she asked me to rest my head on one of her shoulders. When I put my head on her shoulder, my face was right beside her. She talked a lot and was continuously talking to me. So whenever she looked at me while talking, she had to turn her face sideways. Since my head was resting on her shoulder, our cheeks touched. I don't know why but a sensation ran through my veins, when our bare chins touched.

Actually, since she was wearing a silk saree and I was wearing a kurta and churidar pyjama, I was slipping from her lap with the movement of the car. She had to continuously pull me inside her lap. After some time she said that she cannot flex her legs. So she wanted to change my seating position on her lap. She didn't even ask my permission. She put her hands under my bottom and lifted me up to adjust me sideways on her lap. I was now sitting with my back to the door side of the car. She pulled my knees up to stretch my feet out on the seat of the car over the carton boxes kept on the seat beside her. 

I said, "Kya kar rahey ho Mousumi didi?"

She laughed, "Merey 14 saal ki bachchi ko meri goud mey sula rahi hoon".

She was continuously teasing me, calling me a little girl sitting on her lap. She held me tightly to her breasts. I was basically half lying on her lap. She was holding me across her lap in a cradle position. One of her hands went behind my back and the other under my knees. My head was resting on her shoulder sideways. She pulled me up on her lap a little, which made my head rest on her collar bone. My face got buried inside her neck. My nose and cheeks touched the inner cold skin of her neck. She bent her head down a little to trap my face completely inside her neck. She was talking to me in whispers, asking me to sleep on her shoulder. 

She said, “You are looking like a small baby on his mother's lap. So cute.” She bent her head and kissed me on my forehead. I lay there like a child on her lap. I was feeling so embarrassed but had an odd sensual feeling building under my belly. She was teasing me. Said, "Dekha kaisey mummy ke godi mey ek 40 saal ka bachcha baitha hua hai. Kitna halka hai tumhara wazan. Lagta hai ki mey ek 14 saal ki ladki ko goud mey bitha ke leke ja rahi hoon." 

I wasn't talking much. She generally talks too much. And then she was continuously teasing me about my small height and that she was 7” taller than me.

She said, "If you feel sleepy, you can lie on my shoulder and take a nap. It's a long way to our home."

My head was at such an angle on her shoulder that my face was buried inside her wide neck. This was in early September, it was not too hot, but it was quite humid. There was no AC in the car. So she was sweating, not much but still.... My face was pressed inside her neck. She was holding me supported by one hand behind my back and the other under my knees. 

Since she was dressed for the wedding party, she was wearing heavy perfume. The scent of her perfume, her body odour and slight sweat, mixed together was giving out an odd sensual aroma. It was such an intoxicating feeling." 

A little later my body slipped a little down. My face was now right in front of her breasts. It was a comfortable pillow for me, big and soft. She removed her sari pallu a little and covered up my face. She whispered to my face hidden inside her pallu, “Now if anybody sees from outside, he will think that I'm breastfeeding my baby lying on my breasts.”

I closed my eyes which were feeling heavy and was transported back to my childhood…

( To be continued…)