index


Message-ID: <31639asstr$995951404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: =?iso-8859-1?q?Swagato?= <swagato86@yahoo.co.uk>
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Subject: {ASSM} Unforgettable times : Part-1
Date: Tue, 24 Jul 2001 01:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d





____________________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Get your free @yahoo.co.uk address at http://mail.yahoo.co.uk or
your free @yahoo.ie address at http://mail.yahoo.ie

<1st attachment, "unforget1.txt" begin>

Readers,
This is a love-story of an eighteen year old young boy. There are
erotic moments in it, but please do not be impatient. There is a
proper time and place for everything.  I wish you enjoy the love
story in its totality.

I wrote this story long time back in my language, that is
Bengali, although I never  published it anywhere. This is not a
translation of the earlier one. Rather, I wrote it again from the
scratch. At times, use of Bengali words and expressions became
unavoidable, but if the readers closely follow the story, I don't
think there would be any difficulty.

I'll post this story in parts. Let me know if you have anything
to comment (good or bad) on this story. My email address is:

swagato86@yahoo.co.uk

Enjoy reading,

Swagato

************************** Unforgettable times:
Part-1**********************************************************

It was the Spring season in the early seventies. In those days,
this planet was yet to face the burns of global warming and
Spring was  a season to enjoy in Bengal. The mornings always used
to bear a mild chilly touch with it, bringing the fragrance of
fresh, colourful spring flowers. Afternoons used to be a bit
warm, but not for long. Before the birds could flock back to
their nests, a mild southerly breeze used to make the atmosphere
soothing and pleasant again. No wonder poets and writers in
Bengal and India have described Spring as the most romantic
season. But, Spring in Bengal is no longer that beautiful. Thanks
to global warming, these days always an early summer sets in,
spoiling the charms of Spring. That was not the case, when I was
a young boy of eighteen.

I was then in the first year of my Engineering course and was
staying in a town which could be reached from Calcutta (now known
as Kolkata) within two to three hours of time. At least in my
first year, I don't remember having missed a weekend visit to
Calcutta to meet my friends and family.

It was one of such regular weekend visits. I went to meet
Abhirup, my classmate since early childhood. Both of us were very
close to each other in sharing our thoughts and feelings. Both of
us used to compete for the topper's place in the class, but the
competition never affected our strong bond of friendship. Rather,
we used to take the competition quite sportingly, without much of
seriousness or any bitterness attached to it. Our academic
interests and inclinations were somewhat different. Abhirup had
interests on Biology whereas I was more inclined to Maths. After
our  higher secondary exams, Abhirup rightly decided to join the
medical course and I went in for engineering.

"Swagato, wouldn't you like to go out for a stroll ?", suggested
Abhirup. I readily agreed. Ever since our adolescence, we had lot
of things to share, which couldn't be done in the small flat of
theirs. Our topics of discussions inevitably needed some privacy
and to get that, we generally used to spend some time beside
Rabindra Sarobar, or, the "lake", as we used to lovingly callit.

The evening breeze beside the lake was indeed pleasant. Abhirup
and I managed to get an empty bench and sat down. Now that we
were in different colleges and our meetings weren't as frequent
as it used to be during our school days, we had much to talk and
share.

"Any plans for dol ( holi), Swagato ?" Abhirup asked me. ( Holi
is a popular Indian festival of colours, celebrated in the Spring
season. People apply colours on each other, sharing the fun and
the joy with their near and dear ones.) 

"Oh yeah, it's on Thursday, am I right ? We have two days'
holiday and combining with the weekend, it makes four days in
all. So, I am surely coming down to Calcutta on Wednesday night
and we'll together have a grand fun, what you say ? It will be
great if you, Gautam and Anup (our other common friends since the
school days) come to our home in the morning and we play
together."

"Sorry Swagato, I won't be here during the holi." told Abhirup
and I was clearly disappointed.

"Is it ? Where are you going ?" I asked. I have rarely seen
Abhirup leaving Calcutta.

"Going to Shantiniketan this time." he replied in his
characteristic soft tone.

"Wow ! That sounds great !" I said.

****
Let me digress briefly and provide the readers with a brief
introduction to Shantiniketan, just for the benefit of those who
don't know.

Debendranath Tagore, the father of the great poet and Nobel
Laureate, Rabindranath Tagore had set up an ashram (hermitage)
for meditation in a village that was close to Bolpur town in
Bengal. There, Rabindranath Tagore established an experimental
open air school in 1901 and named it Shantiniketan, meaning
"abode of peace". In latter years, it grew into a University,
known as  Visva Bharati University and attracted a large number
of international students and scholars. I may just make a passing
reference to the readers that even after the demise of
Rabindranath Tagore, Shantiniketan had produced many famous
personalities. They include 1998 Nobel laureate in Economics,
Prof.Amartya Sen, who spent his childhood here. The great film
director and Oscar winner Satyajit Ray and the late Indian Prime
Minister Mrs.Indira Gandhi were also students of this place for
sometime. I don't intend to prepare a tourism leaflet for
Shantiniketan here, so this much of introduction should suffice.

Holi is celebrated as "Vasantotsav" (festival of Spring) in
Shantiniketan and ever since Tagore himself introduced
"Vasantotsav" in Shantiniketan,it became increasingly popular
over the years, attracting a large number of tourists and
visitors. I would describe Vasantotsav in  some details lateron.

****
I assumed Abhirup would go with his parents. But, I was wrong.

"Oh no, they won't  accompany me. My dad will not get any leave
at this time of the year. Why don't you come along with me ?"
Abhirup suggested.

I was quite delighted at this unexpected suggestion and was
feeling tempted to grab it instantly.

"Me ? Are you serious Abhirup ? Where are we going to stay ?" I
asked. I knew that youth hostels, lodges etc. are all overbooked
during this time of the year.

"Remember ? I told you about my mother's uncle and aunt who stay
in Shantiniketan"

"Yes, of course. Mashima's uncle is a well-known painter and a
close associate of Tagore. You are talking about them, right ?" I
asked.

"Oh yes, you're right. My dida  has been writing to me since long
to visit their place. This time, I feel I should accept her
offer." he said.

("Dida" or "didima" means grandma in Bengali. Abhirup's mother's
aunt becomes his grandma by relation.)

Abhirup could sense my hesitation and uneasiness to accept the
idea of staying in his relative's house.

"Come on Swagato. They are so nice persons. They are aged and
lonely. Surely they will like our company and you shouldn't
hesitate to stay."

Abhirup's assurance was enough to make me agree. He is one of my
best friends after all. I was more than willing to go, only a bit
of hesitation, since I hadn't seen them before.

"Abhirup, hope your dida won't find it difficult to accommodate
two of us." I still wanted to make sure that my visit shouldn't
cause any discomfort to the old couple who are habituated to stay
alone.

Abhirup smiled. "Swagato, I wish you had been there before. They
have a two-storied  studio building, detached from their bunglow.
It's unused since long. You and me will stay there. Don't think
that space will be of any problem there."

I readily agreed. I always love the countryside of Bengal and
after reading so much about Rabindranath Tagore's beloved
Shantiniketan, I found Abhirup's offer really tempting.

"That's great. I'll tell dida to cook for two us then. Can't you
skip classes on the day before ? We must start a day before the
holi."

"You are right Abhirup. Don't worry. My friends will arrange for
proxy attendance. Only problem is Prof.Ramamoorthy of Electrical-
anyway, forget him."

"Good. We can then start by Barauni Passenger early in the
morning and get the whole day with us in Shantiniketan."

**************

I didn't have a good sleep. There were tensions of waking up
early and getting into the first morning bus that goes to the
station.  I was quite early to reach there and  looking for
Abhirup, who I know is always a late comer. After a bit of search
in the long crowded platform, I could finally manage to locate
him. He was talking to one of his male classmates  in the Medical
College.

"Swagato, meet Chandan, my classmate in Medical College. Chandan,
he is Swagato - you heard so much about him."

"Hello, nice to meet you. So, will you too  be accompanying us ?
It's just great." I said.

"Well, I'll only accompany you in the train. My parents stay in
Shantiniketan. My dad is a professor there. So, we wouldn't be
staying together in Shantiniketan, unless of course you and
Abhirup decide to stay in our house, as I was just now suggesting
to him." Chandan invited us with all eagerness.

"Sorry, Chandan. I can't disappoint my dida. We have to stay
there only." Abhirup was quite firm. Rightly so.

After a brief wait, Barauni Passenger steamed in alongside the
platform. In those days, steam train used to run regularly and
the memory of steam train journey is making me terribly
nostalgic, as I am writing it.

Chandan is a nice boy, full of life and full of fun. His company
was really enjoyable. All three of us were eighteen year old and
naturally, the most favourite topic of our discussion was
"girls". We were having rolls of laughter when Chandan was
describing their female medical college classmates, their vital
statistics, physical descriptions. He was also trying to imitate
their voice and style. Of course, we were careful about our
tongue and tried our best not to use the characteristic Bengali
slangs, as the crowded train was very much a public place and was
carrying many cultured, elderly people to Shantiniketan.

After our train crossed Burdwan, the landscape changed. The vast
green plane land was replaced by red gravels and  green bushy
trees. Occasionally, the smokes that escaped from the steam
engine was making the view blurred. Then again at the very next
moment, it was becoming clear.

Finally, the train halted in Bolpur. The crowded train became
almost empty as most of  the passengers, including three of us
got down. Surely, all of them were flocking to Shantiniketan to
join Vasantotsav.

"Dada rickshaw laagbe ? Shantiniketan jaaben ?" The rickshaw
pullers started competing with each other to grab the tourists.
Before we could negotiate and settle for one, another man
approached,

"Aarey Chandan dadababu, amaar saathe chalo." This rickshaw
puller was well-known to Chandan. He virtually snatched our bags
and forced three of us to get into his rickshaw without any fare
bargain. The rickshaw ride was just too fun with Chandan 
managing his seat between our laps.

When we reached Abhirup's dida's house, we found Dida was waiting
in the balcony for us. We got down and Chandan took the rickshaw
straight home. He promised that he would meet us in the evening.

"Aay, tora bhitore aay. Sei kon sakaale beriechhis balto ?" Dida
welcomed us in with all her affections. She felt sorry that both
of us must be tired and hungry since we left Calcutta so early in
the morning.

Everything was feeling so different. So calm and quiet a place !
No motor horns, no shouting of hawkers, no sound of speeding cars
and buses. There was silence all around, truely the "abode of
peace" as Rabindranath Tagore lovingly named this place. The
"krishnachura" and "palash" trees in front of their house were
full of red bunch of flowers, as if they were on fire. A cuckoo
was singing from one of the trees close by. At a distant tree,
its mate was replying in a different tune. In no time, I was in
love with Shantiniketan.

"You take your bath. In the meantime, I'll keep your meals hot
and ready.", Dida told us. I could smell the fragrance of boiling
rice and that was making my hunger more and more intense.

Abhirup and I came to the first floor of the studio house. The
ground floor used to be Abhirup's grandpa (dadu)'s painting hall.
It was locked up since several years. The first floor of the
studio house had a room with an attached bath, where Abhirup and
I were supposed to stay. After unpacking our bags, Abhirup went
first to take his bath.

I was waiting in the adjacent balcony, overlooking a pond. I saw
a young girl. She had just finished  taking her bath in the pond
and went to a hide behind the trees to change her wet clothes. I
could steal a glance at her face. It looked so innocent !  The
eighteen year old boy in me was eager to witness her undressing
act and  I was already feeling the pressures growing inside my
underpants. Perhaps, the fresh green leaves of Spring were too
dense to hide the rural beauty from my eager eyes. But not for
ever. There was a mild breeze blowing. The leaves were dancing,
uncovering the view at times. The girl was wiping off the water
droplets from her fully grown breasts with dark nipples that
projected out. She must not have sensed my peeping eyes. There
was none around and there was no reason for her to  suspect that
she was being watched. I couldn't take my eyes off. She put on
her blouse, wrapped her saree around. Then, she let her wet hair
fall on her back and slowly walked through the village road, far
beyond my sight.

In this lovely place, the erotic thoughts and fantasies, which I
had nurtured since my adolescence days, rushed to my mind. I was
feeling a burning urge to release my sexual tensions through
masturbation. As soon as Abhirup finished his bath, I went in and
removed  my underwear. My hardness under the tight underpants was
becoming unbearable. I needed a release, as I was still imagining
the lovely breasts of the village girl whom I had seen just a few
minutes back.

There it was, there it was for me - a load that I was unable to
bear. Feeling relieved, I started humming the tune of one of my
favourite Tagore songs in this calm and quiet environment-

"Kolaahal to baaron holo
Ebaar kothaa kaane kaane..."


 The tap was on and the bucket was getting filled with cool,
fresh water. I poured the cold water all over my naked body. A
fresh cold water shower after the long journey by steam train was
so freshening ! I realised that I was spending more time in the
bathroom than usual when Abhirup called me. "Ei Swagato, ektu
taratari kor. Dida daakte esechhilen." Abhirup called up from the
room to inform that Dida was ready with the meals and came there
to  call us.

*********

"Dida, it's just great - so tasty !" I said. We were so much
hungry that everything tasted so nice ! Rice, daal (lentil), 
delicious "icharh" (green jackfruit curry) and yes, something
that is a must for Bengalees - a mouthwatering preparation of
sweet water fish.

"Oh, don't tell me. I couldn't prepare much. Just these simple
items only."

Dida was so nice and simple a person. There was no formality
anywhere. She was showering her affection to me and Abhirup as
much as she could. I was yet to meet Dadu. Being an old man, he
finished his lunch much earlier and was having an afternoon rest
in his room.

We too took a very brief afternoon nap after the lunch, but soon
it was abruptly terminated as the old ceiling fan, which was
rotating so long with its characteristic screaching noise came to
a grinding halt. It was a power failure - nothing unusual in
Bengal. We decided to go to the open terrace, to enjoy the mild
breeze of Spring afternoon and started chatting there.

We must have been on the terrace for quite a long time. The sun
was on the lower part of the western sky. Everything was calm,
except for occasional bird chimes. People were leisurely walking
down the road that was there in front of the house. Suddenly I
noticed not one, but three young girls walking together.

"Ei Abhirup, shiggir dyakh. E bari-r dikei aschhe mone hochchhe."
I quickly drew Abhirup's attention in a low voice, as I felt that
they were approaching this very house.

"Hey, shut up ! One of them is my cousin. But, I certainly don't
know about the other two." Abhirup cautioned me before I could
make any careless remark about his cousin or her friends.

Ahirup's cousin Sonali was a first year student of Visva Bharati
University in Shantiniketan. Like Abhirup, she is similarly
related to dadu and dida. I can explain the relationship, but I
think it would become complicated for the readers to understand
and it's not at all important for the story in any way.

Sonali and her friends saw us from the road. Sonali waved at
Abhirup and shouted, "Tom-tom ! When did you come ? "

Tom-tom is the nickname of Abhirup. Usually, Bengalees have a
nick name. Sometimes those names are short forms of their actual
names, and quite often, it is just a funny name, affectionately
called by the near and dear ones. I too have one, but I hate it
so much that  I don't wish to disclose that before my readers.

We climbed down from the terrace. Abhirup was eager to meet his
cousin. Since they don't stay in the same town, they don't happen
to see each other frequently.

All of us gathered on the open lawn in front of the house. Dadu
was relaxing there on a reclining chair. There, I got myself
introduced to this famous personality.

Who were the other two girls ? The readers must be curious to
know that, isn't it ?

One of them was Papiya, Sonali's schoolmate - just as myself and
Abhirup were. Sonali's parents are settled in a district town in
Bengal and that's where she had her primary and secondary
schooling. Sonali had invited her close friend Papiya to see
Shantiniketan during Vasantotsav. Papiya's parents didn't allow
her to come alone and so, her elder sister Keka had to accompany
her as an escort.

Keka was elder to Papiya by at least three years. She was
studying M.Sc. in Calcutta University. Papiya was sweet and
charming, but Keka was even better. She was tall, fair and had an
attractive figure by any standards. As per Bengali social norms,
we had to address her as Keka-di, ("di", a short form of "didi",
means elder sister) as she was elder to me and Abhirup.

Our "adda" (long chat session) was mostly dominated by Dadu. Old
people are never tired of narrating their memories before the
younger generation. Dida kept the session livelier with tea and
fish finger fries as snacks. I was not paying much of attention
to what Dadu was narrating. I was again and again taking a
glimpse at the beauty of Keka-di. She was wearing a beautiful
printed silk saree. I think she was also becoming alert when I
was looking at her. But, characteristically, I am shy. At least
that's how I was in those days. When I realized that my repeated
glance was making her alert, I turned my eyes away. But again, at
the very next moment, I was feeling tempted to look at her. I
could sense a new feeling inside me - something I liked so much,
but never had it before. It's difficult to explain what it was.

Chandan had promised to come before the evening, but  was quite
late when he arrived.

"I met Tuktuk-di on the way and got late" he said with an
apology.

"Tuktuk-di means the famous Rabindrasangeet singer..............
? Are you talking of her ?" I wondered.

"Oh yeah, she knows me since my early childhood. We were
neighbours before we changed our house." Chandan said.

This man is so lucky, I thought. I had several collection of her
songs on the gramophone disc,  such a famous singer she is and
Chandan was just casually talking to her on the way. Believable ?
I felt a bit jealous.

"That's great, Chandan. But I have a bad news for you. We have
eaten all the fish fingers and there is nothing left for you." I
told him. As if that was a punishment  he must undergo for
meeting the noted singer on the way.

"No way Chandan ! I have a few more kept aside for you. I'll get
them fried in no time." Dida intervened.

"Yeah, that's so nice of you, my Dida." said Chandan with
jubilation. I realized that Dida might be more affectionate to
Chandan than what she was to Abhirup and now, me. They are all
Shantiniketan residents and know each other fairly well. At
least, that's how the community lifestyle was in Shantiniketan in
those old days.

The "adda" couldn't continue for long, as the dusk set in and the
mosquitoes intervened.

"Abhirup, wouldn't you people like to have a walk around
Amrakunja and Chhatimtala ?", suggested Sonali.

All of us, meaning three young boys and three young girls
welcomed the suggestion.

While we were walking, we made two distinct groups - the boys'
group and the girls' group with hardly any inter-group
interaction in between. When we were tired of walking, we decided
to sit down in a place for sometime.

By then, the lovely moon was peeping through the trees. It was a
day before the full moon. Holi is celebrated on the full-moon day
in Spring. Shantiniketan was looking lovelier in the moonlight
and the evening was still very young.

We sat down. But what more to talk ? Three of us endlessly
chatted on the train this morning. I felt it was time to keep
some silence and enjoy the beauty and quietness. Sonali was
talking to Papiya in a very low voice. We couldn't make out what
they were talking, but Keka-di didn't take part in their
conversation. Understandably, she was elder to them and she 
respected the privacy of her younger sister and her friend. Or,
was it that this boy-girl barrier was making her feel awkward ?

"Such a lovely evening it is ! Can't we listen to some songs from
you ?" Keka-di threw this question to the boys' group.

Chandan was first to react- "Aren't you already listening to
songs ? The mosquitoes are singing Pooo pooo..."

"Hey, stop joking. I'm serious." Keka-di certainly didn't like 
poor jokes from Chandan.

"So, you want to invite the stray dogs here ? They would surely
start barking and come forward if I sing a song now." again it
was Chandan who was our spokesman.

"It may happen with your song, but I'm sure one of you will be
able to sing very well." Keka-di appeared to be a bit annoyed
with Chandan's answers.

Abhirup looked at my face with a smile. Perhaps he wanted to ask
me, "Shall I tell about you ?". I grabbed his hand and winked,
"Please, no."

"Jaake gaan korte bolechhi, se kintu thik bujhte perechhe !"
Keka-di said in Bengali. I find it difficult to translate these
words. It means she had only one person in mind when she mooted
the idea of listening to songs  and that person referred to must
have understood it.

"What makes you so sure that one of us can sing ?"  was my first
direct conversation with Keka-di.

"Singers have a different voice. You know what I mean." shesaid.

Though I was shy enough to admit that I could sing, surely
Keka-di understood it. I got a naughty idea. How about singing,

"E paare mukharo holo Keka oi....", a Tagore song that contains
"Keka". But I resisted my temptation to do that.  Who knows,
Keka-di might take some exceptions to it.


The moonlight was flooding Shantiniketan all around. It was time
for "Baitalik". Here too, I need to familarise my readers.
"Baitalik" means a group of singers who  walk around the campus
and sing a chorus song together, while maintaing a slow pace of
walk. No musical instrument is used, only vocal singing is
performed. Baitalik is a speciality of Shantiniketan and like all
customs, this too was introduced by Rabindranath Tagore himself.

"Tuktuk-di ke dekhte peyechhis ?" Chandan whispered to my ears.

Oh, I just couldn't believe my eyes ! The famous singer was just
a few feet away from us, talking to others and waiting for the
assembly of Baitalik to take place. Everyday, Baitalik chooses a
different song. On that day, it was,

"O aamaar chaader aalo
Aaj phaaguner sandhyaakaale dharaa diyechho..." .

In this song, Tagore has welcomed the flooding moonlight of the
Spring full moon. The most appropriate song for that night of
course. The melody is one of my most favourite ones. We too
followed the Baitalik. Now, the gap between our own boys' group
and the girls' group  narrowed down without putting up any
conscious effort to do so. At some point of time, I too joined my
voice with the chorus,

"Je gaan tomaar surer dhaaraay banyaa jaagaay,
Taaraay taaraay surer dhaaraay banyaa jaagaay,
Mor aanginaay baajlo ....."

When the song ended, I heard a voice just next to me.

"Bhul bolechhilam ki ?" (I wasn't wrong. Isn't it ?)

I turned my face to the side. It was Keka-di. I didn't notice
that she was walking next to me. She was directly looking at my
eyes. So was I. 



************************************** End of Part-1. Part-2 to
follow.********************************************************
<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------


------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+