Indian Heroines Gallery

Strangers On The Train

It was quite cold when I got on the train. I was rubbing my hands to keep warm. The station was ….and I had to go upto Ahmadabad. It was slightly warmer on the train as all the windows, except one or two here and there were down. I found it was somewhat dark inside too but the little chatter and warmth there was made it much better than the bleak platform. I was ready to dump my luggage, to curl up with a book and to have a nap. 

I hoped it was not congested or noisy in my coop. When I reached there, there were some people. I got busy with my luggage. As I was struggling to push in my suitcase a female voice came “It won’t go in”. I was annoyed. 

There seemed no obstruction and the suitcase just needed a stronger push, I thought. The lady didn’t seem satisfied with verbal observation alone; I found a pair of female arms beside mine get busy, adjusting things. That was when I happened to feel her arms –soft and warm. And they were ‘mehendi’ covered. And she didn’t make any special efforts to suggest that my touch was a no-no. The luggage adjusted, I sat and observed her. She was 5’4”, no less, fair coloured, slim, shapely, with long dark hair, clear forehead, and nice features. 

Her boobs didn’t look huge but small, rather, I think , but you know how covered oranges turn out to be melons when uncovered. Her lips were not too broad, red and fitted for the dimples and smiles she gave. She seemed a woman who was not afraid to look at things and so her eyes didn’t dart away when they met mine. She was married. There was her son with her, a mischievous boy of 3. It was afternoon but all were asleep. Mine was the middle berth above her lower berth but obviously she couldn’t lie with her son playing and being naughty and I didn’t mind sitting side by side with such a beauty. Now we three, she, her son, and I, were sitting on the lower berth. 

All the other berths were open and people were asleep. Her son had shifted to the window, as kids do, and so she had to shift towards me. And the son ( his name was Vansh) was a nice boy who mixed up well with me and so kept traveling from the berth to her mom’s lap and to mine, asking whether cows would win in a war with buffalos or why the uncle in the upper berth was snoring whistles while the aunt opposite on the lower berth was snoring like a lion. 

He and his mom were going to Surat, he told me. I asked him what his papa’s name was (which I forgot immediately), what his mom’s name was (which I can never forget (it was Vanshiqa)). And when he touched my magazine, and the things in my pocket, the lady tried to stop him resulting in more warm touches. 

Well, I’m not a stone as to ignore such a woman. And willing too, she was. In a sense. But I am not one to butt in uninvited, either. Honestly, I didn’t know where it would end. The thing to decide was when to make the next move and how. But sometimes good luck smiles and keeps smiling. Vansh wanted to go to toilet and asked me to go along with him and I said yes. 

In the bathroom I was struggling with the chain of Vansh’s trousers because the train was shaking quite a bit. The door was half open and suddenly she came in. ‘Let me help’ she said and came between me and Vansh and so I left hold of Vansh. When she bent a little to undo the jammed chain her buttocks pressed against my front. Suddenly I dared. The door was closed now with the three of us in. Vansh was facing the toilet window and Vanshiqa was pressed against me. 

I said to Vansh, “Vansh, close your eyes”. 
“I’ll give you a chocolate” 
“Will uncle give me chocolate, mummy?” 
“Mummy is saying yes” 
“She didn’t say yes” 
“She nodded her head” 
“Mummy, did you?” 
All rested on mummy now. Things could not proceed without her nod, literally and otherwise. Then mummy gave a small nod. I felt so relieved. 

“I have closed my eyes, uncle. Which chocolate will you give?” I put my hands on her waist. Her body tightened and she flinched a little. But she stayed. 

“Uncle! Which one?” I had lifted her kurta and was wondering which of the two to give my attention to. 

“Dairy Milk. Keep your eyes closed.” I blurted hurriedly as I bent to kiss her milky breast. 
“Perk” I was perked up, my dick erect, and I was slowly baring more and more of her. 
“Dairy Milk Silky?” “Yup” my hands were feeling her silky skin 
“And Munch?” 
“Sure, Munch” I wanted to munch too on her dark pink nipple which I was licking furiously. 

“What are you doing?” she whispered in my ear. And stereophonically, Vansha too said , “What are you doing uncle?” 
I was confused whom to reply to first and what. “I am trying to make you happy” I muttered to both. 

“And which other chocolate?” he asked, his eyes closed. I had come down and my tongue was moving on her waist 
“Fruit and Nut” as I smelled her sweet naval and kissed it around. 
“Crackle” she was moaning lightly and I could spend all I had for chocolates that day. 
“Éclair” I managed to say while licking. 
“No” he said, and “Aah don’t bite” Vanshiqa whispered as I dug my teeth in her waist. 
“What then?” 

“Wowie” he said and I said to her “Wow! They are huge” as I held her right breast in both my hands. 
“Ok, Wowie too” I told Vansh. I was astounded by the breast. It was a beautiful beast, live and throbbing in the rocking train. 
“Any more?” 
“Gems” I said and got busy with her ruby-red lips. 
“Yes, I like sucking gems” 
“Me too” I left her lips for a moment to tell him. Vanshiqa smiled. 
“I want Kinder Joy too” 
“Ya” I stopped my joyous slurping for a microsecond to tell him. 
“I am finished, mummy” he said. “I am not” I told mummy. 

“Uncle, will you give Five Star too?” “Sure” I said and to Vanshiqa I said, “I give you full points” at which she laughed a tinkling laugh. 

“One more I will buy, Vansh, both for you and me—Cadbury Bournville–I have earned it.” My hands were moving still on her smooth, silky back. And Vanshiqa said, “Yes, I’ll share it.” 

We became decent before Vansh opened his eyes and turned. We had to come back then. Vansha led us back and I dared to hold Vanshiqa’s hand for some time as all were huddled in their berths and nobody cared to see us. 

Bed time. Well, the next thing that I recall after that pleasant evening is that at night the old aunty on the lower berth opposite to my joyful companions asked me to close the chain of her luggage that was towards the window side and she could not bend and do that. Vansh and her mom were lying on their lower berth with their heads towards the window so when I bent to fix up the luggage i was quite near her (Anshiqa). I suddenly raised up my face and looked at her. Her big eyes were fixed at my face. She had been watching me. Why? I wanted to know. 

All this was in my mind and my eyes were locked onto hers. Our faces were about a feet apart. I wanted to kiss her. I knew she wanted it too. Her mouth was slightly open. The old aunty was behind me and could not see us, but she would if we kissed. The rest were lying down. It was as if in that racing, crowded train, we two had reached a frequency only we two shared. 

I took up a book and sat on their berth, reading it. A few minutes later I found Vanshiqa sitting up. She was fidgety I could see. Vansh was asleep, his head towards the window. Then she turned and lied down with her head towards me. My hand was under her head, my fingers covered by her hair. People write poems on beautiful hair (zulfen) but I was really feeling them. The warmth of those silky hair was radiating to my somewhat cold hand. I knew she was not asleep and there was no attempt by her to remove her head away from my hand. 

My hand was still somewhat cold, though it had held her warm breast two hours and forty seven minutes ago. Should I dare and move it on her neck and down? What if that episode in the toilet was a rare daring by her and what if she shouted or did something of the sort if I attempted anything now? But I wanted to know her too. I was feeling somewhat self-conscious talking to her but I started. 

“You live in Surat?” I asked 
“Yes” she said shortly looking at me 
“What does your husband do?” 
“Embroidery business” she said with a certain lack of joy, I felt. 
“Arranged marriage na?” 
“Vanshiqa is a nice name” I said 
“Just the name?” she smiled, her eyes wide. 
“No, no” I stammered “everything about you.” 

She told me she wasn’t a Gujarati but was from ….. in Bihar, at present returning from relatives in Kolkata. We were talking in whispers like young lovers but formally. But slowly we started talking more frankly and she told me of her early marriage, her unexciting life, her dull husband, dull not simply in a physical sense. She had an M.Sc. degree but what was the use of it? She was not complaining, not blaming, but just being frank. And was a bit sad. She was not a woman who falls for anyone impulsively, even if she let me do all that in the toilet. You know what I mean. 

I felt nice that she trusted me. I could listen to her the whole night. Or maybe the whole life. I was thinking. Then she put her hand on mine and closed her eyes. With my free hand, the right hand, I touched her face, her eyes, removed a lock of hair from her face. She said nothing. She wasn’t asleep. The compartment was almost dark. I extended my hand and placed it on her breast. She took it in my hand and pressed it on her breast. I bent over her and she pulled me to her. When my lips felt hers, I knew I must have her. 

In the morning Vansh was with me again, talking, laughing. When Surat was approaching I helped them pack their things. At the compartment gate, the platform approaching, Vansh said to me, “Uncle, are you getting down too?” “Yes”, I said. 
“But you said you were going to Ahemedabad” 

“Change of plans” So many things had changed since i got onto the train. I looked at Vanshiqa and she smiled, “And then I’ve to give you all those chocolates too na.” 

“Wow! Really?” 
“No, chocolates.” I winked at him. I liked this boy. 
“Great! Come to my home then. We will play cricket too” 
“I will stay in a hotel. But surely will come”, I said. 

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