“Do you wash under your skin here?” she asked. “How? Why? What!!?!!” I asked back with a puzzled look on my face.“I should teach you then”...she said. “kyon?” I asked. “Saare part saaf rakhne chahiye…tumhari body hai na?” Said aunty.“Uncle bhi saaf karte hain apna udhar” she said and called uncle to come over.For them….Everything they wanted to show me about being a man was by a comparing it with uncle. Uncle came and stood next to with a puzzled “what’s going on here?” look. Aunty didn’t even as. And then, intuitively, again nothing: suddenly withdrawn, mouth an inch from yours, a heavily shaking breath, a gentle, tender kiss to your shoulder, or your cheek — protectively. Carefully. As if you’re something precious, as if he knows that he’s consuming you with his passion — as if he knows that you’re losing yourself in him. In the blue depths of his eyes, mixed with intensity and longing and — deeper — unrestrained wildness, barely concealed now, are flickers of hurt, of past sadness not. More

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