paper with an unknown handwriting, perhaps a shaving blade left in the bathroom. There’s nothing. When Tarun comes to visit the following Saturday, Amit finds him on the front lawn and punches him harder than ever before. Tarun kneels and gasps in pain, and Didi flies out and strikes Amit on the face with such force that he’s sent reeling across the yard. “If you touch your brother again,” she says, “I will kill you.”
She takes Tarun by his shoulder and leads him in, where she has him open his shirt. She rubs some Vicks at the point of contact, saying she hopes the bastard hasn’t broken her beautiful son’s shoulder bone. Poor baby, Amit thinks, watching his mother rub Vicks with the tips of two fingersand blow a soft gentle breath on them. The way his mother’s fingers clasp Tarun’s naked shoulder, and the smell of Vicks, which his mother applies liberally, take Amit back to the uneasiness he’d experienced after returning from the village. His mind tries, vaguely, to connect the two feelings, the then-feeling and the now-feeling, but the two mingle and become diffused and confusing. “My beautiful son,” his mother is whispering to Tarun.
CHAPTER TEN
E VERY FEW WEEKS there’s an opportunity for Tarun to be alone with Didi. Somehow the other members of the house are away, and when he reaches Bangemudha, he finds the house quiet. Soon after he enters, she pulls the curtains and bolts the door, and suddenly the outside world is shut off. “Come here, sweet son,” Didi says to him. She sits on the chair by the door, and he goes to her with dread and excitement in his throat. When he nears her, he can feel heat coming off her body. Her eyes become slightly glazed, and her chest moves up and down as though she’s begun panting inside. When he is inches from her, she reaches out to explore him. Her hands at first move rapidly up and down his body, an initial survey of the landscape. He’s ticklish andlaughs, but she’s not laughing. She begins with the chest, where she gently rubs her palm in a circular motion. Soft, moaning breaths are coming out of her parted lips. Some days she calls him by his name, “Taruuuun, Taruuuun.” He’s mesmerized by her voice, which sounds like a small animal trapped in the thicket of the jungle. Her fingers move up toward his face. They linger for a long time on his lips. “My sweet boy. Is there anyone more beautiful in this world? Is there anyone who loves his Didi more?” She’s not seeking answers to these questions, for in the next second he’s in her arms, and she’s kissing him on his lips, first with great tenderness, then strongly. A hand moves down to his privacy. Without him wanting to, he starts becoming hard, and he recalls a Bangemudha kid saying “lando” as he emphatically grabbed his crotch. Lando , Tarun thinks, and he becomes even harder. “Becoming bigger,” Didi whispers. She deep kisses him, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth, her lips sucking his tongue. Her hand is softly massaging his privacy. He’s confused and a bit scared and wants to move away, yet it also feels good.
At home, he avoids his mother. He doesn’t have to try too hard because she’s often in her own world. Sometimes when he returns home, he finds her on the lawn. Sanmaya has helped her bathe, oiled her hair, and put her out in the sun. He doesn’t meet her eyes. She stares at him as he goes into the house. He runs up to his room and lies in bed, breathing heavily, his eyes closed. He hates himself.
On some days after Didi is finished with him, his lips aresore and swollen. Amit notices and asks him why. Tarun doesn’t answer and looks down. Amit calls him a sissy, says his lips look like those of a girl’s puti . He comes closer to Tarun, says, “Do you know who has a smelly puti ? Your mother.” Amit nods sagaciously. “That’s what my father smelled, but he liked it.” A pause. “That’s how you were born.”
Back in Lazimpat Tarun fingers
She takes Tarun by his shoulder and leads him in, where she has him open his shirt. She rubs some Vicks at the point of contact, saying she hopes the bastard hasn’t broken her beautiful son’s shoulder bone. Poor baby, Amit thinks, watching his mother rub Vicks with the tips of two fingersand blow a soft gentle breath on them. The way his mother’s fingers clasp Tarun’s naked shoulder, and the smell of Vicks, which his mother applies liberally, take Amit back to the uneasiness he’d experienced after returning from the village. His mind tries, vaguely, to connect the two feelings, the then-feeling and the now-feeling, but the two mingle and become diffused and confusing. “My beautiful son,” his mother is whispering to Tarun.
CHAPTER TEN
E VERY FEW WEEKS there’s an opportunity for Tarun to be alone with Didi. Somehow the other members of the house are away, and when he reaches Bangemudha, he finds the house quiet. Soon after he enters, she pulls the curtains and bolts the door, and suddenly the outside world is shut off. “Come here, sweet son,” Didi says to him. She sits on the chair by the door, and he goes to her with dread and excitement in his throat. When he nears her, he can feel heat coming off her body. Her eyes become slightly glazed, and her chest moves up and down as though she’s begun panting inside. When he is inches from her, she reaches out to explore him. Her hands at first move rapidly up and down his body, an initial survey of the landscape. He’s ticklish andlaughs, but she’s not laughing. She begins with the chest, where she gently rubs her palm in a circular motion. Soft, moaning breaths are coming out of her parted lips. Some days she calls him by his name, “Taruuuun, Taruuuun.” He’s mesmerized by her voice, which sounds like a small animal trapped in the thicket of the jungle. Her fingers move up toward his face. They linger for a long time on his lips. “My sweet boy. Is there anyone more beautiful in this world? Is there anyone who loves his Didi more?” She’s not seeking answers to these questions, for in the next second he’s in her arms, and she’s kissing him on his lips, first with great tenderness, then strongly. A hand moves down to his privacy. Without him wanting to, he starts becoming hard, and he recalls a Bangemudha kid saying “lando” as he emphatically grabbed his crotch. Lando , Tarun thinks, and he becomes even harder. “Becoming bigger,” Didi whispers. She deep kisses him, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth, her lips sucking his tongue. Her hand is softly massaging his privacy. He’s confused and a bit scared and wants to move away, yet it also feels good.
At home, he avoids his mother. He doesn’t have to try too hard because she’s often in her own world. Sometimes when he returns home, he finds her on the lawn. Sanmaya has helped her bathe, oiled her hair, and put her out in the sun. He doesn’t meet her eyes. She stares at him as he goes into the house. He runs up to his room and lies in bed, breathing heavily, his eyes closed. He hates himself.
On some days after Didi is finished with him, his lips aresore and swollen. Amit notices and asks him why. Tarun doesn’t answer and looks down. Amit calls him a sissy, says his lips look like those of a girl’s puti . He comes closer to Tarun, says, “Do you know who has a smelly puti ? Your mother.” Amit nods sagaciously. “That’s what my father smelled, but he liked it.” A pause. “That’s how you were born.”
Back in Lazimpat Tarun fingers
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