RassMalaai Rites

'कुछ नहीं होगा, एक बार कर के तो देखो....मैं ज़्यादा ज़ोर से नहीं करूँगा' was the way Ram first convinced me to insert his dick into my ass, or what I today understand as sex. The first time it happened, it wasn't pleasant at all. It pained and continued to pain for a good while. I had trouble sitting down to shit, it used to burn each time I had to use the loo. And this was the first time when he had said 'किसी को बताना नही..मेमसाहब को तो बिलकुल भी नहीं'. However, after a few times, I began to enjoy it. But largely, I would avoid having sex with him. My thrill and orgasm would be satisfied with our naked bodies rubbing against each other or with an occasional blow-job. He would largely stick to this pattern too but there would always be a hint of resentment in his eyes or his voice when I would say no.  However, there were times when the resentment was too hard for him to contain. I remember that time when we were on my bed, toying with each oth

People have different ways of 'moving on'. Moving on from relationships, experiences, traumatic experiences, what not. I write. I prefer this mode because frankly, nothing else seems cathartic. Nothing else seems to make me focus my mind on that one thing. This is also because I have hardly been a speaker. Or expressive (in terms of words from my mouth). On top of that, I am evasive, and massively so. All this in combination makes me explosive (I don't think I have ever used so many adjectives for myself!). And I prefer to spew that explosion on my keyboard (or paper) rather than on someone. So, why this sudden urge to write? Primarily because I have been thinking. Thinking how I have never thought, at length, of the one thing that dominated my childhood. Most of the recounting of those series of incidents happens through speech and especially when it is the occasion of 'coming out' to someone. Then begins the saga which started years ago and ended quite some