Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
Shūdrasý tu Savarñaiv Nānyā Bhāryā vidhīyaté
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
He was adamant.
His father and grandfather both were Brahmarshis in HVSI.
Kaikasī Chaturvedī was smart enough to understand her eldest son’s mood perfectly.
She masterminded her entire planning keeping his every potential step carefully in consideration.*
When Muħammad got engaged, it was a bit of a relief for me. Muħammad had been miserable for years after Muħammad’s wife had deserted him for me, three weeks before his Sixty Sixth birthday.
Now he seemed to be back to a vague semblance of his former self.
I was glad.
My friend, Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah, had been through a lot.
It was more troublesome for me, because his wife had deserted Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah for me.
“I’m very sorry, Muħammad,” I said sincerely, “I never thought she was interested in me sexually.”
Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah laughed.
“Infinite BrāhmKalp has come. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan says there were only two couples in BrāhmKalp, Brāhmañ Muslimāt and Bachhalyā Brahmkanyās Bachhalyā Brahmāñīs. I think my wife was afraid of herself that Niranjan could not win her from me. She preferred you on Niranjan.”
“Niranjan Sharmā.” Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah said, “You know. He is Waħīdah’s Kħālāzād cousin.”
Al Muħammad Al Åbdullah sighed.
“Niranjan Sharmā is close enough to Bhārgav
I had, of course, met Muħammad’s fiancée a few times when she’d stayed at our house, but after a while, Muħammad asked me if I’d be all right if Zakiyah moved in with us.
There was concern on Muħammad’s face, but it was unnecessary.
I was a quietly confident ever young man, who was simply happy for Muħammad to have found someone.
But when Muħammad came to pick him up from HVSI, I did not expect to find what I did.
When I climbed up into the back of the four-by-four, there was a dazzlingly attractive slim Musalmān redhead sitting inside, smiling at me. She was about twenty eight years old, dressed in a disturbingly low-cut turquoise top and green miniskirt.
Her legs were covered in nylons.
“Hi Durgesh,” said Muħammad.
“Durgesh,” Zakiyah smiled at me, “this is my daughter, Al Jalal Al Fātimah.”
“Hi,” Al Jalal Al Fātimah had an amazing smile.
She gently shook my hand and I couldn’t help but smile seductively.
I was completely amused to female company – especially such beautiful Musalmān female company.
Musalmān females were my specialty.
Even the BrāhmKalp could not take beautiful Musalmān houseladies away from me.
Yet, I was an exception.
Waħīdah preferred me on Niranjan Sharmā.
Waħīdah loved Durgesh.
Niranjan Sharmā was surprised.
“I don’t think so, Niranjan Sharmā.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s normal.” Niranjan Sharmā interrupted Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav, “In BrāhmKalp every Brāhmañ girl is a Brāhmañ’s sister according to Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā. She is not marriageable with a Brāhmañ. The Brāhmañs are required to marry Muslimāt and Muslimāt only to devote themselves to religious severities for their entire life.”
“I wanted to remind you it.”
His tone was somewhat curt to Niranjan Sharmā.
Niranjan Sharmā looked at him helplessly.
“Nevertheless, the Ārsh Sadan of HVSI is supporting Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, not Durgesh.”
The phone rang and she reached over to answer it.
“I was just…” she paused and looked at the TV, “…working on something.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes, I forgot a file I kinda need for work. Can you go on my computer and email it to me. It’s -”
“Now, now, I’m not going to remember. Just gimmie a second and I’ll go to your room and pick up the phone there, ok?”
Sītā Bhārgav made her way to the second floor of the big house she shared with me and her father Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav.
Sītā Bhārgav turned on my computer and picked up the phone in my room.
I was giving her instructions but we were having trouble communicating.
“And you searched for the filename? You’re sure you spelt it correctly…”
“Hmmm…” I muttered. “I guess I don’t absolutely have to have it…um…oh, Damn it! Of course!”
“Oh…oh geez, sorry Sītā dear.”
“Sorry about it. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
I laughed too.
“Three in one?”
“All in one, you Anant Brahmkanyā Ramañ, Anant Brahmāñī Ramañ.”
“Yeah, it’s just that I totally forgot something. Here’s what you need to do…” I explained to my Bhārgav Brāhmañ beloved of thirty years how to unlock the hidden and encrypted files on my computer using a password.
She sent off the email.
I confirmed I received it.
She hung up the phone and let me get back to work.
She hesitated for a moment.
What was there to go to except boring TV or a stack of books she didn’t really want to read, or a bed where sleep lately was elusive?
Didn’t she see something interesting a moment ago?
She opened up the list of files again.
Sure enough, there was the previously-hidden ‘Work Stuff’ folder they struggled so long to find.
And beside it some other uninteresting hidden folders were now revealed, like ‘HVSI Reports’ and ‘Bank Files’.
‘Pr0n Flicks’ and ‘Pics of Slutz’ and ‘XXX Stories’.
‘No,’ she thought, ‘they can’t be. Well…well, maybe he’s just got one or two things on here…I’m sure there’s a lot of peer pressure to know a bit about that sort of thing…’
She opened up ‘Pr0n Flicks’.
The list of files was so long it scrolled down past the bottom of the screen; titles like ‘Anal Trainer’ and ‘Ass Worship’ and ‘Buttman’s Big Butt Backdoor Babes’.
She double-clicked on a file and the starting credits began to play, a rapid-fire sequence of tits and ass and cocksucking and fucking and pussy eating and assfucking and double-penetration and cum splashing everywhere and and and…
She clicked it closed.
She went to the ‘Pics of Slutz’ folder.
As with the other folder, along with the main list of files there were subdirectories.
The one right at the top was named ‘AAAAA HOT DAMN IT – THE BEST – WHACKOFF SLIDESHOW’.
Here she found explicit, hardcore digital images.
Her Bachhalyā lover, Durgesh, had pictures of beautiful Musalmān houseladies, Christian houseladies, Jew houseladies and Brāhmañ houseladies even, in leather, in rubber, in lace, in chains, and of course in nothing at all.
“I would have never of suspected,” she said to herself, “I would have never have known.” Then she gave a little smirk. “No wonder he likes computers so much.”
Among the folders I made were ‘Anal Fuckfests’, ‘Mind Control’ and ‘Ashvinātam is Best’.
She knew about computers herself.
Who doesn’t in this immensely advanced Infinite BrāhmKalp?
Of course it was a long username.
It wasn’t possible even.
Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā was the paramount constitution here.
It was legally a tremendously punishable crime and morally an immensely despised great sin.
“Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu didn’t go through immense religious severities to marry Bhārgavīs with Bachhalyās.” Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav said furiously, “Bhārgavīs deserve Durgesh himself, no other Bachhalyā even.”
Vibhīshañ Bhārgav had argued,
“There were no Bachhalyās then anywhere when Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu had gone through immense religious severities to get infinite extremely beautiful daughters. Durgesh was the only husband available to them. Hence it’s a wrong argument that Param Brahmarshi Lord Bhagvān Bhr’gu didn’t go through immense religious severities to marry Bhārgavīs with Bachhalyās. He himself prepared Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, ‘Bhr’gu Shāstr Samvidhān’, constituting Brahmkanyās to marry with the Bachhalyās. There isn’t any exception for Bhārgavīs in Bhr’gu Āchār Samhitā, Bhr’gu Shāstr Samvidhān, that Bhārgavīs have exclusive rights on the rest of the Brahmkanyās to be Brahm Jagdambās everyone.”
Vibhīshañ Bhārgav was defeated tremendously.
Nevertheless, she was jealous of beautiful Musalmān houseladies now immensely.
Bhārgavīs were no exception.
She’d gone through much of the rest of my room, and found more things to pique her interest.
In the corners of my closet and in the backs of drawers she’d found recordable CD’s with suggestive labels, porn tapes and DVD’s, and stacks of magazines.
As she listened to me move around in another part of the house, Dr. Sītā Bhārgav was in her bedroom behind a closed door, kneeling over on her bed and flipping through a magazine, ‘Ass-Fuckers Vol.5 No.2’, which she was sure I wouldn’t miss from my large stack.
One of her hands was between her legs rubbing her pussy, and occasionally her fingers would reach farther, to rub the sensitive crinkle of her asshole, which would make her whole body shudder.
She was always very conservative, wearing perfect business attire; usually pantsuits that always left as little visible as possible of her neck, arms, and legs.
Her hair was always tied up in a bun or back in a tight ponytail, and her shoes were always sensible.
Not that this was foremost in my mind when I saw her, but it was the way she had always dressed since I had remembered, even back before her and her husband had split up.
It was as though Dr. Sītā Bhārgav were another species from the females I saw at HVSI, on TV, or in the pornography I consumed, the ones so willing to flaunt themselves and their sexuality just to get attention.
I grunted, and out of the corner of my eye saw her hauling some bags up to her room.
I didn’t glance over for a while, but when I did I was shocked and couldn’t break my stare.
I always thought Sītā Bhārgav had a classical face; fine lines and delicate features, a little reminiscent of the Mona Lisa, or of Greek and Roman sculptures I’d seen. She’d always worn big, practical glasses, her new pairs just like her old ones, but now for the first time I saw her wearing a sleek pair with tortoise-shell rims, that reminded me of cat’s eyes.
Her hair was sandy-brown, and at the top of her head it fell straight, but then began to curl at the level of her eyes.
She wore it untied now, and it fell around her shoulders.
Her excellent exquisite thirty years old Bhārgav Brāhmañ body, with exceptions, was slim; especially her crane-like neck, her delicate wrists, and her ankles where the contours of bone showed clearly.
But nature had also designed her body so that her breasts were large and full, and were supported by strong shoulders, and her hips and ass were big and full as well, supported by thick muscular smooth bhbr thighs.
Every daughter of Bhārgav Chakrvartī Dashānan Bhārgav was a specimen of exquisite excellent Bhārgav Brāhmañ beauty.
Now, she wore a flimsy wool cardigan, rose pink, with a knit loose enough to clearly show the bra underneath, and a plunging open neck that showed off much of her shoulders and the cleavage of her upper chest.
A cream-colored skirt stopped just above her knees, but had a slit up the side where I could see the top of a smoky brown stocking.
Her feet rested in shoes with a medium heel.
“Wow,” I said as I walked into her room, and then paused, searching for any other words. “Um…are we having company over or something?”
“Oh geez, I feel kinda out of it then.” I looked down to my white socks, jeans, and rock-band T-shirt. “Do you want me to change?”
Dr. Sītā Bhārgav turned away to continue her work, and I felt my ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund involuntarily pulse and twitch against the fly of my jeans.
Dinner proceeded somewhat normally, though my eyes would often wander to Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s chest, trying to make out the details of her bra, and picture how her chest would look without the cardigan draped over it.
I’d snap my head away when I became conscious of my thoughts, but then my eyes would also sometimes drift to look down through the glass table in the kitchen, looking down at Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s legs and the way she held one sleek leg against the other, and something inside of me flamed up when Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s stockinged legs would rub together as she subtly shifted position.
I was looking out the window at the backyard when hands reached under my arms and wrapped themselves around my chest.
“Yow! Hey Sītā, you scared me!”
“I just wanted to say thanks for being kind to me.” She gave me a long hard squeeze. “I’m so lucky to have such a good husband.”
She placed a kiss on the back of my neck.
We were both quiet.
Each one burned on my neck like a gunshot.
Palm flat on my chest, one of her hands began to work its way down over my stomach.
My heart hammered as I realized her hand, if it continued, would discover my pulsing ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund.
I slammed my hips against the counter, crouching down a little so the bulge of my crotch was hidden from view.
She gave a disappointed sigh.
“So,” she said softly, into my ear, “what’re you doing afterwards?”
“Um…I gotta.. go to work, Sītā,” I smilrd, and glanced at the clock.
Long after she had gone, my body missed her warmth pressing against my back.
When I got home late in the evening and turned on my computer monitor, there was a full-screen picture I was sure I had not left there.
A naked young woman, nasty lustful passion on her face, had my large ceaselessly unyielding, ever impulsive, sixty-Six years old, ultimate skilled, matchless, extreme manifest Bachhalyā Lund buried deep in her Bhārgav Brāhmañ ass.
The woman whose picture was there was Dr. Sītā Bhārgav’s younger, twenty eight years old sister, Ramā Bhārgav.
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Zāhidah Salmān kī kħushī chhupāyé nahīn chhup rahī thī.
Zubayr Yūsuf ko jo kħauf khāyé jā rahā thā, voh Zāhidah Salmān bhī kħūb achchhī taraħ samajh rahī thī.
Lékin aaj hī to Zāhidah Salmān ko mauqā milā thā.
Bahut burī taraħ béizzat kiyā thā Zubayr Yūsuf né Zāhidah Salmān kī Ammī ko.
“Ék Hindu sé, ék kāfir sé chudvāné wālī béħayā Musalmān åurat kyā jāné ki īmān par mar miŧnā kyā hotā hai.”
Yah kahā thā Zubayr Yūsuf né uskī Ammī ké mutålliq.
Ab Zāhidah Salmān dikhāyégī Zubayr Yūsuf ko, ki uské apné kħāndān kī Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān sharīfzādiyān kħud kitnī pāgal hain Durgesh kā Uncut Hindu Lund apnī chust kasī huī Musalmān Chooton ké andar jađ tak nigalné, aur qayāmat tak niglī rahné ké liyé.
“Zubayr Yūsuf Bhāījān,” Zāhidah Salmān phir chahkī, “Durgesh aaj vāqaåī aa rahé hain?”
“Yah sawāl tum mujhsé savéré sé ab tak lātådād martabah kar chukī ho. Kyā baat hai? Jaisé jaisé Durgesh ké aané kā vaqt ho rahā hai, tumhārī bahādurī kā janāzah niklā jā rahā hai?”
“Main āpkī ānkhon ké sāmné chudvā kar dikhāūngī Durgesh sé.”
Zubayr Yūsuf ék tanziyah hansī hansā.
“Main kħud Durgesh par mārtī hūn.”
“To abhī tak jhakh kyon maar rahī thien? Us Hindu Sex maniac sé chudvā saknā kyā tum jaisī qayāmatkħéz Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saůūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān ħusnparī ké liyé bhī dushwār thā?”
“Yahī to maslah hai, Bhāījān.”
“Kyā matlab? What the hell you mean?”
“Āp tamām Pseudo Musalmīn yah samajhté hain ki koī bhī balā kī ħasīn naujawān Musalmān åurat, jab uskā jī chāhé, bađī āsānī sé Durgesh sé chudvā saktī hai.”
“Chudvā nahīn saktī, chudvātī hai. Samjhīn?” Zubayr Yūsuf ék talkħ hansī hansā, “Har balā kī ħasīn naujawān Musalmān åurat Durgesh sé chudvātī hai.”
“Jis taraħ Taħannus Bhābhījān aur Rukħsānah Salmān Bājī Durgesh sé chudvātī hain?”
“Āpné kħud apnī ānkhon sé dékhā hai Taħannus Bhābhījān ko kabhī Durgesh sé chudvāté?”
“Main tumhāré bāp, Salmān Khan māmū jaisā béghairat nahīn hūn.”*
Zāhidah Salmān ké tan badan mein aag lag gaī.
Apné vālid Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan sé béħad muħabbat kartī thī Zāhidah Salmān.
Aur Zāhidah Salmān hī kyon, Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan kī tamām béŧiyān unsé bépanāh muħabbat kartī thien.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan kī taraħ ék misālī zindagī jīnā chāhté thé Zāhidah Salmān ké Abbū, Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan.
Imām Muħammad Ħasan ké role model thé Mustafā Kemāl Atāturk.
Jis taraħ Turkey mein Jamhūriyat lāī thī Mustafā Kemāl Atāturk né, Imām Muħammad Ħasan bhī usī taraħ Jamhūriyat lānā chāhté hain, lékin kisī ék mulk mein nahīn, tamām Islamī mumālik mein.
Yahī wajah thī ki Imām Muħammad Ħasan Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan ké role model ban chuké thé.
Sirf itnā hī nahīn, Ǻllāmah Salmān Khan né bāqāyedah ék taħrīk bhī shurū kar dī thī, Al Taħrīk Al Jamhūriyat Al Islam.
Pūjā Agnihotrī tađap kar uŧh khađī huī.
“Kyā kahā? Tumhārī yah majāl?”
“Apnī māmūzād bahan ko nahīn kahogī kuchh? Sabīħah Salmān kis taraħ chūs rahī thī Durgesh Jījū kā Uncut Hindu Lund? Tumhīn né ākar batāyā thā na mujhé? Aur zabardastī khīnch kar lé gaī thien mujhé voh sab dikhāné?” Arvind Pāŧhak né muskurāté hué apnī naī navélī sophisticated Brāhmañ patnī ko chhéđā.
Usko pūrā yaqīn thā ki Pūjā Agnihotrī usé kunwārī nahīn milī hai.
Is zamāné mein koī lađkī aŧŧhāis saal tak kunwārī rahé, itnā pāgal nahīn thā Arvind Pāŧhak ki isé sach samajhtā.
“Dékho Pūjā,” usné shādī sé pahlé hī saaf saaf apnī honé wālī bīwī, Pūjā Agnihotrī, sé kah diyā thā, “Durgesh Jījū sé jismānī tålluqāt aaj ék åām bāt ho gaī hai. Durgesh Jījū ké ålāvā agar kisī sé tumhāré tålluqāt rahé hon, to mujhé batā do.”
Pūjā Agnihotrī né nihāyat hī hamdardī ké sāth apné honé wālé pati par nigāh dālī thī.
“Yånī Durgesh Jījū ké sāth méré jismānī tålluqāt par tumko koī åetrāz nahīn hai? Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Arvind Pāŧhak né bađī mushkil sé apné āp ko sambhālā.
“Shādī ké båd tum sirf Durgesh Jījū ké sāth apné aésé tålluqāt jārī rakh saktī ho, méré ålāvā, aur kisī ké sāth hargiz nahīn.”
Pūjā Agnihotrī hansī thī.
“Bahut darté ho Durgesh Jījū sé?”
“Bahut izzat kartā hūn unkī.” Arvind Pāŧhak né nihāyat hī pursukūn lahjé mein jawāb diyā, “Durgesh Jījū mérī saat sagī bahnon aur kaī mamérī, chachérī, phuphérī aur mausérī bahnon ké iklauté live in relationship partner hain. Méré pūré kħāndān par anékon aħsānāt hain Durgesh Jījū ké.”
“Kitnī bahnén hain tumhārī jo is taraħ Durgesh Jījū kī live in relationship partner ban sakné mein kāmyāb ho chukī hain?” Pūjā Agnihotrī ko béħad ħasad ho rahī thī Arvind Pāŧhak kī bahnon sé.
Ghazab kī taqdīr likhwā kar lāī thien kambakħt.
Sab kī sab Durgesh Jījū kī?
“Kabhī ginī nahīn.” Arvind Pāŧhak mand mand muskurātā huā, Pūjā Agnihotrī ko chhéđtā huā bolā thā.
“Phir bhī. Koī andāzah to hogā hī na?”
“Voh to hai. Hongī yahī koī déđh do sau sab milākar.”
“Lo, aur mérī Ammījān farmātī hain ki jitnī lađkiyān hum Musalmānon mein paidah hotī hain, utnī aur kisī society mein paidah nahīn hotīn.”
“Ékdam Durust farmātī hain tumhārī Ammījān. Mérī tamām mamérī aur mausérī bahnén Musalmān hī to hain. Aur unhīn kī tådād kul milākar ék sau bīs yā ék sau tīs sé oopar ho jātī hai. Mérī sagī, chachérī aur phuphérī Brāhmañ bahnén to mushkil sé bīs tīs sé zyādah nahīn hongī.”
“Khodā pahāđ, niklī chuhiyā.”
“Kuchh nahīn, tumhārī bhābhiyon ké bāré mein poochh rahī thī.”
“Kyā poochh rahī thien?”
“Yahī ki unkī tådād to tumhārī bahnon kī tådād sé bhī zyādah hogī.”
“Béshak,” Arvind Pāŧhak ħairānī sé bolā, “tumko kaisé målūm?”
“Bas, samajh jāo. ‘Kħat kā majmūn bhānp lété hain lifāfā dékh kar’.”*
Arvind Pāŧhak ko Pūjā Agnihotrī kī yahī intehāī aggressiveness sakħt nāpasand thī.
Lékin voh kyā kar saktā thā?
Pūjā Agnihotrī sé pyār kartā thā voh, bépanāh muħabbat.
Usko kħūb achchhī taraħ målūm thā ki Pūjā Agnihotrī Durgesh Jījū kī ghulām hai.
Voh khulkar kahtī thī,
“Durgesh Jījū né mujhé chodkar mérī jaan bachāī hai. Main jab tak zindah rahūngī, unké talvé chāŧūngī, unkā Bachhalyā Lund chūsūngī, unsé chudvāūngī, unsé mérī Agnihotrī Brāhmañ gaanđ marāūngī, unkī ghulāmī karūngī main zindagī bhar.”
Padminī Dīxit né Pūjā Agnihotrī kī pīŧh thapthapāī thī.
“Shābās, hum Brahmkanyāon mein Durgesh ké sāth sex ko lékar aesī dīwāngī lagbhag na ké barābar hī pāī jātī hai. Tum koī akelī lađkī, tum koī akelī åurat nahīn ho, jisé chodkar Durgesh né uskī jaan bachāī ho. Durgesh Anant Sr’shŧi Chod hai. Is yug kā sarvottam Sex therapist hai. Hum åuraton ko chodkar hamārī jaan bachānā uskā profession hai, duty hai, kartavý hai, farz hai. Samjhīn?”
“Main nahīn māntī ki Durgesh Jījū né mujhé sirf is wajah sé chodā ki agar voh us vaqt mujhé nahīn chodté to main mar jātī.”
Padminī Dīxit hansī.
“Kyonki tum mānnā nahīn chāhtīn. Tumné apné āpko self-hypnotize kar rakhā hai ki tum mein aesī koī exclusive, sabsé alag thalag, nirālī baat hai, jissé Durgesh tumhén chodkar tumhārī jaan bachāné ké liyé pāgal ho gayā thā.”
Pūjā Agnihotrī né pūrī sanjīdagī ké sāth Dr. Padminī Dīxit ko dékhā.
“Nahīn hai mujh mein aesī koī special individuality?”
Dr. Padminī Dīxit muskurāī.
“Voh to kħair, har åurat mein hotī hai.”*
Pūjā Agnihotrī hans dī.
Human Psychology mein PhD kī thī Pūjā Agnihotrī né.
Ék åjīb sī ghaŧnā ghaŧī thī Pūjā Agnihotrī ké parivār mein.
Us ghaŧnā né ék nihāyat hī kāmyāb Medical Specialist parivār mein paidah honé ké bāwajūd Pūjā Agnihotrī ko Human Psychology mein PhD karné kā sankalp léné par majbūr kar diyā thā.
Durgesh sé sakħt nafrat karté thé Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī.
“He is an incurable sex maniac.” voh kahté thé, “Us vyakti né apné intehāī sexy honé ko justify karné ké liyé na sirf Hinduism, pratyut tamām majāhib ko sex centred banā dālā hai.”
“Lékin, Rām, Durgesh is daur-e-ħāzir kā sabsé zyādah kāmyāb Sex therapist hai. Dr. Jacqueline Lincoln ko cancer ho gayā thā. Tamām Medical Specialist jawāb dé chuké thé. Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ né Dr. Jacqueline Lincoln ké Arch Bishop father William Lincoln ko approach kiyā. Voh nahīn mane, lékin unkī bīwī né Dr. Jacqueline Lincoln kī Sex Therapy kī ijāzat dé dī. Natījah, Durgesh né Dr. Jacqueline Lincoln ko ék mahīné ké andar chod chod kar ŧhīk kar diyā.” Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās né apné ghor karmkāndī Brāhmañ Hindu pati ko ŧonkā.
Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī itné kaŧŧar Hindu thé ki unhoné apnī ardent Musalmān bīwī, Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās, kā naam badal kar Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī rakh diyā thā.
Apnā yah nayā naam Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās ko bhī béħad pasand āyā thā.
Bhagwatī Sītā unkā ideal thien.
Lékin apné is nayé naam ké bāwajūd Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās né na apnā mazhab badlā thā, na Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī né hī aesī koī shart rakhī thī.
Kitnī åjīb baat thī!
Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī aur Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī kā na koī Lav paidah huā, na Kush.
Unkī sabsé bađī béŧī thī, Dr. Padminī Agnihotrī.
Unkī dūsrī béŧī thī, Dr. Ramā Agnihotrī.
Unkī tīsrī béŧī thī, Dr. Sudhā Agnihotrī.
Unkī chauthī béŧī thī, Dr. Prabhā Agnihotrī.
Unkī pānchvīn béŧī thī, Dr. Nandinī Agnihotrī.
Unkī chhaŧhvīn béŧī thī, Dr. Shubhrā Agnihotrī.
Unkī sātvīn béŧī thī, Pūjā Agnihotrī jo abhī Doctor nahīn banī thī, pađh rahī thī.
Tūfān us vaqt āyā jab Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ né Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī aur Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās ko approach kiyā.*
Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī né pāglon kī taraħ Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ kī taraf dékhā.
“What the hell you mean? Voh is Rām kī Sītā hai.”
“Voh Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās hai, mérī bachpan kī sahélī.”
“Main jāntā hūn.”
“Jī,” Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ sakħtī sé bolī, “main jāntī hūn, ki aap jānté hain.”
“Voh Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās mar chukī hai. Yah uskā dūsrā janm hai. Ab voh Bhagwatī Sītā ko apnā ideal māntī hai.”
Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ hansī.
“Brahm Bhagwatī Sītā Paulastý Rāvañi kal bhī uskā ideal thien.”
“Nahīn thien. Voh sirf zabānī jamā kħarch thā. Hotīn to Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās Durgesh ké sāth premarital sex ké mazé na lé rahī hotīn.”
“He is right, Farīdah,” Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās sanjīdagī sé bolī, “Brahm Bhagwatī Sītā Paulastý Rāvañi us vaqt bhī mérā ideal thien, lékin not as seriously as she is now.”
Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ muskurāī.
“Tum nahīn chāhtīn ki tumhārā apnā koī beŧā ho?”*
Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās né ék sāns lī.
“Bilkul chāhtī hūn. Lékin voh beŧā Durgesh kā nahīn, Rām kā honā chāhiyé.”
“Yånī ki ab tum mukammil taur par Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī ban chukī ho?”
“Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī bannā méré liyé fakħr kī baat hai.”
“Sun liyā?” Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī né vijayī muskān ké sāth garvpūrvak Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ kī taraf dékhā, “Tumhārī Dr. Al Kħadījah Al Ǻbbās ké liyé mérī Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī bannā fakħr kī baat hai aur méré liyé Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī kā mérī patnī honā fakħr kī baat hai.”
“Yånī ki Kħadījah Durgesh sé chudvā saktī hai, Sītā nahīn?”
“Tum pāgal ho,” Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ hansī, “Durgesh aaj lātådād Sītāon ko chod rahā hai aur unsé apné kaī Lav aur Kush paidah kar chukā hai.”
“You are right. But they are NOT Dr. Sītā Agnihotrī.” Dr. Rām Chandr Agnihotrī né ŧhandī āwāz mein kahā.*
More from Durgesh:
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam