And even now, as he was eating the food Mala served, Mohan could see that she hadn’t changed a bit. When she bent down, her low cut blouse exhibited him her breasts down to their dark areoles and darker nipples. And on her sit downs and stand ups, her sari moved carelessly to reveal, now and then, all of her thighs and even more. A born exhibitionist she is, he thought as he smiled within.
– And you ran away from home, because your dad beat you up.
– Yes, Mala, but that was history.
– But it was not history the sole reason why your dad beat you up. The only other soul who knows it is perhaps me.
– But… how…?
– I was there on the scene, you know. I came there to call you for a swimming. And I found you there behind your house, on your knees, with a chocolate on your palm; and your younger sister standing beside, with her skirt hiked up, panty rolled down, displaying her gleaming little triangle. I hid myself to watch what was going to further up, but your father stormed in from nowhere and the rest, of course, is history.
– It was all because of you. Chanced to look quite often at your nakedness…me…
– Don’t blame me for your own inclinations. I understand very well the natural itching of a brother for his own sister. It happens, you know…
By then her brother Kumar arrived. He was in uniform: a policeman after his father. Kumar, as his sister, was very happy and proud to meet their childhood friend, who had been back as a responsible army man.
Kumar, after his dinner, had himself closed in with his sister in a nearby room. And when they emerged out, Mohan could feel something bad.
– Mala didn’t tell you, in the first place, only to have you had some food. I feel worse to give you this news: your mom and dad are long been dead. Nearly six years now.
There was a long silence. Mohan tried very hard to fight down his emotions.
– How?
– An accident: a land slide in the mountains; both together…our dad had been to the funeral.
– And my sister?
– She is ok. Married, dad said, to a Malayalee. Don’t worry; dad will help you finding her.
Mala and Kumar tried their best to cheer him up. Of course, as they pointed out, it was long since it happened.
And about Mala and Kumar he came to know, as they told him, that Mala was married in a large family in a southern town. Her husband was a salesman, touring most of the time, giving her no trouble. And she had a twelve year old daughter going to school, but her in-laws are so supportive that she didn’t have to trouble after her, either. Kumar, on the other hand, was yet to get married.
Mohan was given to view a photo album. It was Mala’s marriage album. While scanning through it, he observed, in a few photos, a familiar face: the girl he met a week back at the teashop thatched house by the railway station he alighted.
– Who is this one?
Mala came around behind him and bent as low as to load her ample breasts on his shoulder.
– Ah, yeah, that one indeed is Chandrakala, your own sister. Of course she was there at my marriage.
HORROR struck him.
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