The Labourer Woman 2

The evening air had settled heavy and warm in the small flat. The fan above creaked lazily, throwing bursts of breeze that felt too short, too weak. Shanti finally emerged from the kitchen, wiping her forehead with the edge of her sari pallu, her face glistening with the sweat of cooking over a gas flame. She lowered herself onto her thin mattress, letting out a long sigh of relief.

I was sprawled on the couch, pretending to scroll my mobile, though in truth my thoughts were replaying that brief, shocking moment when she had lifted me as easily as if I were nothing more than a misplaced stool.

After a silence, I cleared my throat. “Shanti…”

She looked up, one eyebrow raised, her hand still absently fanning herself with her pallu.

“Haan babu?”

I hesitated. “That time… when you lifted me just like that—while holding that rice bag on your other hip… how did you do it so easily?”

For a second she just stared—and then burst into laughter, deep and throaty. “Arrey babu, aap toh kitne halka ho. Main toh aadat se roz bhaari samaan uthati hoon. Aap ko main bazar tak utha kar le jaa sakti hoon—ek haath mein sabziyon ka thaila, aur doosre haath mein aapko kamar pe.” She leaned back on her elbows, shaking her head. “Ohh Babu, you're so light. I'm used to carrying heavy loads every day. I could carry you to the market—a big bag of vegetables in one hand, and you on my hip in the other.”

Her words struck like a playful slap, both teasing and bold. My pride stung. I forced a smile and said, “Come on… don’t exaggerate. Main ek aadmi hoon, aur tum… tum sirf ek aurat..I am a man, and you... you are just a woman. Alright, you are taller than me—and you look strong, too—but…” I shook my head with mock conviction. “You can’t keep me in your arms for more than a minute. Even at that time, you just picked me up and immediately put me back down.”

Her laughter died down to a smirk. She sat up straighter, eyes locking onto mine. “Bas itna hi hai? Is that all? Just a minute? What is your height and weight, tell me ?”

"Five feet three and sixty-four kilos," I stammered.

She tilted her head back and laughed, "Bas, that's all ? I am five feet ten inches and eighty-five kilos. So you see, you are so much smaller than me, that I can easily carry you like a baby to the market and back."

I felt my throat dry. “Come on, it's not so easy.”

The mattress creaked as she rose, slow and deliberate, every movement carrying that quiet confidence I both feared and craved. She walked toward me, and in that small living room her height seemed to fill every corner.

"Alright, Babu. Tumne hi kaha hai. Main sirf ek aurat hoon. Aaj tumhe dikhati hoon ki yeh ‘aurat’ tumhe apne dono haathon mein minute se zyada sambhal kar rakh sakti hai,” she said, her voice low, amused, but edged with challenge. “You only said : I am just a woman. Today, I will show you that this ‘woman’ can hold you securely in her hands for more than a minute.”

Before I could reply, she bent swiftly, slid one arm under my knees and the other around my back, and lifted. Effortless. My phone slipped from my hand onto the sofa as I gasped, finding myself pressed against her chest, my head tucked awkwardly near her shoulder.

The world shrank to the sound of her bangles clinking, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the faint scent of soap still clinging to her after her bath mixed with the musk of sweat from the day’s labour.

“Minute? Babu, tum toh minute mein hi haar maano ge. Main toh ghanto tak chal sakti hoon is tarah.” She glanced down at me, eyes gleaming with mischief. "One Minute? Oh, come on Babu—you'd give up in a minute! But I could go on carrying you like this for hours.”

Heat rushed to my face—half embarrassment, half exhilaration. My arms, without conscious thought, looped around her shoulder, clinging as the seconds stretched.

Inside me, pride struggled, but another part—smaller, truer—was already surrendering.

She had me snug in her arms, one arm locked under my knees, the other braced across my back, my torso pressed against her sari-clad chest. Her dusky face leaned down close, eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and pride.

“Thik hai, babu. Main toh tumhe bazaar le jaakar sabko dikhana chahti thi… par lok kya bolenge? Toh chhodo, sirf tumhare ghar mein hi tumhe uthakar ghumaati hoon. Aur jab tak main nahi thakti, tab tak tum meri godi mein rahoge.” She said, voice firm yet teasing. "I actually wanted to carry you to the market and show you off to everyone... but what would people say? So, never mind—I'll just carry you around right here inside your own home. And I'll not let you down from my arms until I get tired.”

My heart thumped. “Shanti…no no, just a minute...not more.” I muttered, still clinging to her shoulder.

She chuckled, shifting her grip slightly, pressing me tighter against her chest as though I weighed nothing. “Minute?” Her bangles clinked as she adjusted her arms. "Oh, Babu—I can keep walking with you in my arms all night long. You challenged me, didn't you? Well, now you cannot stop Shanti.”

With that she began to walk around the flat, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. Each step rocked me gently, the sway of her stride lulling, humiliating, intoxicating. My head brushed her damp collarbone, my nose full of the faint salty-sweetness of her skin.

“Soch lo babu. Abhi se tayyari kar lo. Main dinner bhi tumhe godi mein bithaakar khilaungi. Tumhare muh mein khana daalungi… jaise maa apne bachche ko khilaati hai.” She tilted her chin down, grinning. “Get ready for it from now on. I’m even going to feed you dinner while holding you in my lap. I’ll put the bites directly into your mouth... just like a mother feeds her child.

“Aur khud bhi apna khana khaungi—ek haath se tumhe sambhal kar, doosre haath se khud khaakar. Mujhe aadat hai ek haat mey bojh uthake dusre haath se kaam karna.” I stiffened, but she only hugged me closer, her hip pressing against my side as she turned into the narrow kitchen. “And I'll have my food myself—holding you with one hand and eating with the other. I'm used to carrying a load in one hand and working with the other.”

My protest faltered on my lips. Pride said I should wriggle free, insist she put me down. But some deeper, quieter current inside me was already surrendering, drinking in her height, her strength, her absolute command of the moment.

Round and round she walked—through the kitchen, back into the living room, then toward the bedroom door—each turn making me realize the “minute” I had promised was long gone.

“Dekha mera chhotey babu? Minute nikal gaya. Ab toh ghanta bhi nikal jaayega. Aur tum abhi tak meri godi mein chipke ho.” She leaned her cheek against the top of my head, whispering, “See that, my little master? Minutes had already passed. Now an hour will go by too—and you're still clinging to my breasts.”

Her words, half-taunt, half-lullaby, left me flushed, humbled, and—strangely—comforted.

Her grip tightened across my back, her forearm firm beneath my thighs, cradling me as easily as if I were a boy of five. She had already done quite slow rounds of the flat, her bare feet padding softly, her bangles tinkling with each sway of her arms.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound dignified. “Shanti… ho gaya. Abhi utar do. It's done Shanti..now put me down”

She stopped mid-step, cocked her head, and looked straight into my face. A mischievous smile curved her lips.

“Kiūn babu? Aapne hi toh bola thha—‘main mard hoon, tum toh sirf ek aurat ho.’” “Why, Babu? You only said—"I am a man; you are merely a woman.” She shifted me slightly higher on her chest, my ribs pressed against her sari blouse dampened with sweat. 
“Abhi kya hua? Kahan gaya tumhara mardangi ? Uss aurat ke godi mein ghoomne mein sharam aa rahi hai?”
"What happened now? Where is your masculinity? Are you feeling embarrassed to be carried around in that woman's arms?"

I swallowed, heat rising in my face. Her tall frame towered, and even though I was in her arms, it felt like I was looking up to her.

“Abhi toh tumhe rehna hoga meri godi mein. Tumne Shanti ko challenge kiya hai. Aur abhi toh main thaki bhi nahi.” She clicked her tongue teasingly. "For now, you will have to stay in my lap. You have challenged Shanti. And, I’m not even tired yet.”

My pride stung. “But Shanti…” I started, weakly tugging at her shoulder.

“Aur agar tum sach-much mard ho na, toh khud hi utar jao meri godi se.” Her eyes gleamed, a half-playful, half-dominant fire. She bent her head close, her warm breath brushing my ear. “And if you really are a man, then try and get off my lap yourself.”

For a moment, I froze. The truth was stark: her arms were iron around me, her chest broad and immovable beneath me. My legs dangled helplessly, caught against the sweep of her hip. She wasn’t holding me loosely; she was locking me in, cradling me as if daring me to even try breaking free.

I squirmed, pressed a hand against her shoulder, tried to push myself up. She laughed—a low, throaty laugh that vibrated through her chest into mine. “Arrey babu, koshish bhi pyaari lagti hai. Lekin tumhare bas ki baat nahi hai. Tumhare paer zameen ko choo bhi nahi rahe.” "Oh, my master—even your effort is so cute. But you can't free yourself from me. Your feet aren't even touching the ground.”

She adjusted her stance, spreading her feet, hugging me tighter to her chest. My cheek was now mashed against the slope of her collarbone, the scent of soap mingled with her natural sweat filling my nostrils.

“Dekho babu,” she murmured, almost gently, “ek aurat bhi kabhi kabhi tumse zyada mazboot ho sakti hai. Aur tum… meri godi mein bilkul bachche ki tarah fit ho jaate ho.” “Accept it Babu. Even a woman can sometimes be stronger than you. And you... you fit so easily into my lap, just like a child.”

Her words, both taunt and truth, sank into me as she began pacing again, rocking me deliberately with each stride.

Her bangles clinked as she adjusted me more snugly against her chest, swaying me side to side like a prize she wasn’t ready to put down. The warm strength of her arms reminded me of how utterly helpless I was in that moment.

“Waise, babu… aapne kaha na hum dono ek hi umar ke hain—bayaalis saal? Lekin ek toh aap apne hi umar ki aurat ke aadhe size ke ho. Mere godi mey toh school ke bacche lagte ho.” She tilted her head and smirked. “By the way, Babu... you mentioned that we’re the same age—forty-two? But even then, you’re barely half the size of a woman your own age. And also in my lap, you look just like a helpless schoolboy.”

Her words hit straight into my pride. My mouth opened, but no reply came.

“Dekha? Aur abhi apne umar ki aurat ne aapko qaid kar liya… aap koshish karke bhi apne aap ko chhudwa nahi paaye.” She chuckled, bouncing me once in her cradle hold, just enough to make me clutch at her shoulder. “See? And now, a woman your own age has held you captive... and with all your best efforts, you couldn't manage to break free from my arms.” 

“Abhi toh main jo bolungi, wahi aapko karna padega.” Her voice dropped lower, playful yet firm. "From now on, you will have to do whatever I say”.

A shiver went down my spine. My lips tightened, but my face betrayed me. She saw it—saw the flicker of real fear in my eyes.

“Nahi babu… aap daro mat,” she said softly, her eyes shining. “Aapne mujhe ek nayi zindagi di hai. Jo aurat footpath pe girti ja rahi thi, usse utha kar ghar diya aapne. Main kaise aapko dukh pahunchaaungi?” Her expression softened. A warm laugh escaped her, not mocking now, but fond. She rocked me gently, her big hands supporting me as though I was a child in her arms.
“No Babu, you don't have to be afraid of me. You have given me a new life. You lifted up a woman who was lying on the streets and gave her a home. How could I ever cause you pain?”

“Aap toh mere bhagwan ho… main toh aapki sirf naukrani hoon. Jo aap bolenge, wahi hoga. Main toh sirf mazaak kar rahi thi.” She pressed her cheek lightly to my forehead, her breath warm, her embrace steady as stone. "You are my God... I am merely your maid-servant. I'll do whatever you want me to. I was only joking with you.”

Relief washed over me, though my heart still thudded against her. Before I could respond, she winked, mischief returning to her face.
“Lekin… ek baat fix hai, babu. Dinner toh main aapko godi mein hi khilaungi.”
Her lips curved into a teasing smile. "But... one thing is certain, Babu. I’m going to feed you dinner right here in my lap.”

I blinked at her, startled, my protest caught in my throat. She chuckled again, hugging me closer as if sealing the deal.