Gotrbhid Mahā Bhārat
‘Jāti Pānti Poochhé Nahin Koī,
Hari ko bhajé so Hari kā Hoī’
1/18: Ādi Parv
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā looked over at me with amazement and joy on her face.
“Hey Bhagvān! Look at it snow, Durgesh darling!”
We had just walked out of the mall.
We both were stark naked.
We had to be.
Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ had warned everyone concerned,
“If you want to save her life, we can’t separate them now.”
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā was furious,
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan was radiating happiness.
She could not understand what she was after now.
The weatherman had mentioned snow might be in the forecast, but there were a few inches of the white stuff on the ground and in the dimming afternoon light, the clouds promised more snow, lots more.
As we walked on our fours, all nude, through the falling snow, I couldn’t help but admire how beautiful Brahm Mahimā Sharmā looked, her long black hair dusted with snowflakes.
Even her Ammī, Dr. Al Furqān Al Saåūd, was so beautiful in her nude that I couldn’t stop myself fucking her when her daughter Brahm Mahimā Sharmā was asleep on the bed.
Dr. Al Furqān Al Saåūd was startled,
“You— you called me ‘Ammī’ Durgesh.”
“Yes, my dear,” I pushed my entire Uncut Hindu Lund into the still amazingly tight Saůūdī Årab Panjvaqtah Namāzī Wahābī Musalmān Choot of Dr. Al Furqān Al Saåūd, “but we have now only one mission. We have to save your daughter’s life at any caste. Don’t we?”
Dr. Al Furqān Al Saåūd was in a hell of an indecisive position.
Allah, Yā Allaaaaah! A Hindu is fucking her now at her forty-four.
She had never anticipated it.
Yes, Durgesh is thirty-two.
He is twelve years younger than she herself was.
But he was a Hindu.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā was her daughter because her husband’s friend, Dr. Rām Pratāp Sharmā, could give her a son, her husband never provided.
Craving for a son, Dr. Al Furqān Al Saåūd seduced Dr. Rām Pratāp Sharmā herself.
Dr. Al Furqān Al Saåūd deliberately lied to Dr. Rām Pratāp Sharmā that his friend, her husband, Ambassador Sheikħ Al Sultān Al Saåūd, was semi impotent.
“Semi impotent?” Dr. Rām Pratāp Sharmā could not approve the idea, “Bhābhījān, I can’t understand actually what you do mean.”
“Your Bhābhījān, Dr. Al Furqān Al Saåūd, Dr. Rām Pratāp Sharmā, needs you very much. A friend in need is a friend indeed.”
“Anything for you Bhābhījān. Just order me and—”
Dr. Rām Pratāp Sharmā was stunned.
He could not believe his ears,
Ambassador Sheikħ Al Sultān Al Saåūd named her Al Qur’an Al Sultān Al Saåūd.
He thought she was his own daughter.
We took our presents to Brahm Mahimā Sharmā’s old station wagon and went in search of a restaurant.
At a local steakhouse, we ordered steaks and from our window seat watched as the snow piled up.
“I think we might have made a mistake, Bachhalyā Piyā,” Brahm Mahimā Sharmā said. “Maybe we should have headed for home as soon as I got here.”
I looked at her and nodded, replying,
“Maybe so. Even the weather guy didn’t see this coming.”
I’d stopped at the bar on our way in and instead of sports; everyone was watching the weather reports on the Six O’clock News.
An unexpected collision of polar and humid fronts was giving birth to a major snowstorm.
The word blizzard was being tossed around.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā had driven down to drive me back for Shrāvañ Parv break.
I was a successful writer, Barrister, Sex therapist and Social Worker from India, visiting Chicago now.
It was tradition for Brahm Mahimā Sharmā to drive the four or so hours to pick me up for Shrāvañ Parv break.
We’d spend the day catching up, going shopping and having dinner before heading home for the Shrāvañ Parv gathering.
It was a chance for Brahm Mahimā Sharmā and me to have a quiet Moment together.
We left the restaurant with a couple of more inches of snow on the ground.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā’s station wagon plowed stolidly through the snow, but it was getting really messy now.
On the radio, the report was to expect somewhere between twelve and fifteen inches of snow by noon tomorrow.
Near my studio apartment, we stopped at a local Korean grocery and used the pay phone there.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā called home to discover that they were already snowed in.
Her husband, Professor Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl, wasn’t happy, fussing that Brahm Mahimā Sharmā should have known better and the roads there were in even worse shape.
He complained until Brahm Mahimā Sharmā cut him off, saying,
“Just get over it, my dear ever over caring Brāhmañ husband, Professor Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl. You and the twins can survive a few days without me. You’ll probably enjoy Shrāvañ Parv even more.” She rolled her eyes at me in disgust.
Yeah, her ever over caring Brāhmañ husband, Professor Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl, was a class act, bitching about his own possible discomforts rather than the safety of his wife.
Had she been normal, perhaps she had been surprised how he did agree to have his wife, always nude, in my always-nude lap, always fucking her.
If it were not his own sister, Prabhā Shuklā’s mistake, Professor Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl had never allowed it.
Hey Bhagvān, why Prabhā Shuklā did it?
His wife, in nude, is enjoying her world tour with nude Durgesh always fucking her.
How could he even bear the thought?***
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā spoke to her younger brothers and reassured them that she’d miss them, but that they and her ever over caring Brāhmañ husband, Professor Dr. Rām Chandr Shukl, would have a fun special Shrāvañ Parv all on their own.
I imagined, they weren’t too broken up about it.
Hanging up the phone, and wiping away a couple of tears, Brahm Mahimā Sharmā shrugged and said,
I winked at Brahm Mahimā Sharmā fucking her more passionately,
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā pushed her gorgeous extremely beautiful nude Sharmā Brāhmañ buttocks in my nude male Bachhalyā lap and swallowed my entire throbbing Bachhalyā Lund once more into her Sharmā Brāhmañ Choot.
Umā Dīxit was still sarcastic.
“She is teasing us, Durgesh. She is our Bhābhī. We know her better than you.”
Prabhā Shuklā was suspicious herself.
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā was her Bhābhī, her sister in law today, but she was her friend ab initio, from their childhood.
“Shshsh…”Brahm Mahimā Sharmā silenced her, “not so aloud. Ammījān would hear and would think I’m disgracing her religion.”
“Nonsense, Al Furqān auntie is not so undemocratic. She respects individuality and personal decisions of other persons even more than Ambassador Sheikħ Al Sultān Al Saåūd uncle does.”
“Prabhā Shuklā, then you don’t know my Abbū, Ambassador Dr. Sheikħ Al Sultān Al Saåūd.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is widely hated in Saůūdī Årab for his ardent democratic views.”
Prabhā Shuklā was surprised,
“Widely hated? What do you mean? You Saůūdī Årabs hate democracy?”
“You haven’t gone our country ever?” Brahm Mahimā Sharmā was surprised.
“Hey, Saůūdī Årab is not your country.”
Brahm Mahimā Sharmā sighed.
“But Ambassador Dr. Sheikħ Al Sultān Al Saåūd uncle is not your real father. Your real father is Ambassador Dr. Rām Pratāp Sharmā uncle, Ambassador of India in Saůūdī Årab.” Prabhā Shuklā protested avidly.
“What difference does it make? Who knows that?”
“Even then, isn’t it a fact?”
“While, I think the Live in relationships represent true love between a man and a woman more than the marriages do.”
Prabhā Shuklā jumped out of sheer surprise,
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