Chapter 2

Harish had just woken up. He looked around and saw his new bride sitting next to him, fully covered in her red saree, staring out the window. Then he looked at the men - Farooq and Kishore seemed to be deep in conversation, while Laksh seemed to be asleep. But Mangal, the bearded ruffian, was staring right at Harish, making him feel quite uncomfortable.

Harish turned to his wife and asked her the time. Meenal told him, her breathing sounded heavy and her face seemed flushed. But Harish seemed oblivious to these subtleties. He asked her which station had just passed, and Meenal told him she didn’t know.

“Women,” Harish chuckled, looking at the men “No sense of direction at all ... always lost in their own thoughts!”

Harish didn’t get the laugh he was expecting from the college students. His typical audience for such jokes were patriarchal, middle-aged men who would’ve at least given him the courtesy of an agreeing laugh Instead, Mangal seemed to be staring at him harder. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Mangal spoke up.

“Harish bhai ... why don’t you sit next to the window ... that way you can figure out which station is coming up next, and you can let us know. You know ... with your photographic memory.”

The sarcasm in his tone was understood by everyone but Harish.

“That’s a great idea, Mangal! Meenal, let’s switch seats,” Harish said, clapping his hands together. “You sit here, and I’ll take the window.”

Meenal knew what Mangal was trying to do, and she couldn’t believe her oblivious husband was falling for it.

“Are you sure you want me to switch?” she whispered into Harish’s ear “and sit next to a man?”

“Of course ... what’s the problem, Meenal? You village folks are so conservative in your upbringing. But you see, I’m a modern man, I don’t mind you sitting next to a man. Now, do as I say, Meenal ... I want to figure out which station is coming up next. The train won’t stop for the smaller stations, so we need to be quick in noticing them. Now ... move!”

Meenal reluctantly swapped seats with her husband. Now Farooq was sitting to her right, and Laksh was sitting opposite her. Harish had turned around in his seat and faced the window completely, turning his back to his wife and the men.

Meenal was feeling nervous now. Her ‘harmless’ flirting and teasing of the men had made them much bolder. They were calling her bluff now, and her husband, her one line of defense against their advances, seemed to be clueless.

Meenal sat next to Farooq, their thighs almost touching, their bodies close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other. As the journey continued, Harish kept rattling on about the various villages and stations along the path of the Indore express. No one was actually listening to him, it had become background noise to them at this point. All attention was on the brand new developments taking place right behind Harish’s back.

Farooq had put his hand on Meenal’s saree covered thigh, and the men were waiting for her next move.

Meenal, to her credit, had tried to push his hand away a few times, weakly, but Farooq was quite insistent. He couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. The fourth time, she didn’t push Farooq’s hand away.

Letting a stranger touch her this way, with other strange men watching, in her husband’s presence even, was having an impact on Meenal. She could feel her nipples hardening under her blouse, and her breath quickening. Farooq’s hand was warm and firm, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her thigh through the thin fabric of her saree and the petticoat underneath.

Alarm bells were going off in Meenal’s head, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop Farooq. As Farooq started moving his hand upward, traveling from her thigh to her bare midriff, toying with the edge of her blouse. Farooq kept moving his hand upward, brushing against her breast.

Meenal panicked, and grabbed his wrist, stopping it in it’s tracks. Her widened eyes were firmly on the back of her husband’s head, standing guard.

Farooq smiled, and so did the other men. In trying to stop his hand, Meenal was now firmly holding it in it’s place, right on her tit. Farooq took the liberty and grabbed a handful of her soft, supple flesh.

Meenal gasped, but didn’t let go of his hand. She was torn between the thrill of the danger and the guilt of betraying her husband. But the way Farooq’s fingers pressed into her breast, the way his thumb brushed over her nipple through the thin fabric of her blouse, sent a jolt of pleasure straight between her legs.

Meenal regretted teasing the men. She’d gotten carried away ... acted like she did back in the olden days, and now these young, horny men were thinking she’s fair game! What would Harish do if he turned around and caught her with another man’s hand on her tit?

She quickly glanced into Farooq’s eyes, wordlessly pleading with him, to let go. He just smiled and moved closer to her. The nervous Meenal turned her head back at her husband, afraid that he might look back at any second.

Farooq’s voice whispered in her ear - “Let it happen, Meenal Bhabhi ... you know you want it.”

His breath was hot against her ear, while his thumb and index finger were now pinching her erect nipple through the thin blouse. His voice, combined with the sensation of his fingers on her nipple was driving Meenal crazy. She bit her lower lip to stifle a moan, and turned back to look straight into Farooq’s eyes.

She nodded a vehement ‘NO’ with her head, but the rest of her body was betraying her. Her hand on Farooq’s wrist had loosened and her breathing was getting faster. Farooq’s hand was kneading her breast with even more force now. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Meenal’s heart was pounding so hard, she was sure Harish would hear it, over his own droning voice.

Suddenly, Farooq pulled her pallu off, yet again exposing her cleavage to the men sitting on the opposite berth. She quickly tried to cover up, but Farooq stopped her by taking hold of her wrist.

“You just keep watching your husband, Meenal Bhabhi ... you don’t want to get caught now, do you?” he whispered into her ear, making her shiver.

Meenal reluctantly let her hands fall to her sides, her eyes darting back to Harish’s oblivious back. This gave Farooq the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

Harish was now animatedly talking about a sanitation project he had worked in one of the remote villages of Chattisgarh, and how complicated it was, and how well he executed the project on time and within budget. If he had just glanced behind him, he would’ve been shocked at the scene unfolding behind him.

His young, beautiful new bride’s pallu was on her lap, her deep cleavage exposed to the three men, sitting opposite her. And Farooq’s hands were on her tits, one in each hand - groping, pinching, kneading. Meenal’s face was flushed, her lips parted, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The way Farooq was manhandling her tits, squeezing them through the thin fabric of her blouse, made her nipples ache with need.

Meenal kept nodding ‘NO’, but she wasn’t doing anything to stop Farooq either.

When Harish finally turned back, he didn’t seem to notice anything. Meenal had already pulled her pallu over her shoulders and Farooq had his hands back in his lap. Apart from Meenal’s heavy breathing, there were no tell-tale signs of what they were up to just a few seconds ago.

“What happened, Meenal? You seem to be out of breath?” he asked his wife.

“N ... nothing Harish ji, maybe I am just tired.” Meenal said, trying to keep a neutral expression.

“Well, why don’t you drink some water. You see, Meenal, hydration is very important. I drink at least eight glasses of water per day! Why don’t you start keeping a track of how many glasses you’ve had, huh?”

Meenal nodded, glad that Harish had moved on. Harish turned to the men next.

“I can’t seem to figure out where we are ... it’s too dark out there!” he exclaimed.

“It doesn’t matter Harish ji”, Meenal said, in a pleading tone. “Why don’t you let it go for now? Let’s switch back to our original seats again.”

Meenal was desperately hoping to put some distance between herself and Farooq. But her husband had other plans.

“Let me go ask the ticket collector, I am sure he must be around here somewhere!” Harish said, loudly.

“I think that’s a great idea, Harish bhai!” Kishore piped up. “I think I saw the TC head that way...” Kishore pointed to one end of the train.

Meenal gave Kishore a dirty look. She understood what he was up to.

“Harish ji ... the train will take us to Indore anyway ... why does it matter knowing where we are?” Meenal was getting frustrated with her husband’s obsession and apparent cluelessness.

“Meenal, you won’t understand ... women don’t pay attention to such things,” Harish said, dismissing Meenal with a wave of his hand. “You see, a man should know exactly where he is at all times.”

“He is right, Meenal Bhabhi,” Farooq jumped in, with a smirk. “And I can’t think of anyone better than Harish bhai to figure out how long until we reach Indore, based on where we are right now. Right Harish bhai?”

“Exactly! You see, Meenal, I have a very precise sense of time and distance.” Harish added, puffing out his chest with pride. “You see, if I can find out how far we are from Itarsi junction, I can then calculate exactly how long it will take to...”

Meenal pulled Harish closer to her so she could whisper to him.

“Harish ji, please don’t go ... you’re leaving me alone with a bunch of men ... don’t you get it?” she hissed at him with frustration, her fingers gripping his arm.

Harish seemed genuinely confused at her concern.

“What? These boys?” Harish whispered back “Oh, don’t be silly Meenal! Can’t you see how much they respect me? They will never misbehave!”

Harish chuckled, patting her hand condescendingly.

’Oh my god, how stupid can a man be?’ Meenal thought to herself. She was about to protest further, but Harish had already gotten up and was heading towards the door of the compartment.

“I’ll be right back!” he announced, and left, leaving his young wife alone with four men, inside a closed room.

The moment the door slid shut behind Harish, the atmosphere in the compartment shifted. Mangal took the seat that Harish had just vacated, sitting on Meenal’s left. Kishore took Farooq’s spot on Meenal’s right, pushing Farooq aside. Farooq went and stood near the sliding door, making sure Harish didn’t suddenly barge in. But his eyes were focused on Meenal.