Short Story: A Fantasy and a Dream come True
The Rich Man and the Beauty
Well, friends once there was a very rich man who lived all by himself in a vast mansion in the middle of nowhere. The place where he lived was situated in an inaccessible mountain slope that very few could reach. The mansion had all the latest gadgetry including an ornamental glass lift. The man was normal in all ways except one. He had a morbid fear of copulating with a woman. He could dream but was scared to perform. He wondered how he could get over it. He also had a lovely wife, who was almost like a celestial being, a Hourie.
Hourie's, as we all know, are beautiful nymphs, voluptuously alluring women from Paradise. This young girl, the wife of this man was indeed like a Hourie. But due to the particular mental makeup of the man, her husband she had remained a virgin. The girl longed for a lover but none was forthcoming and so she passed her time going up and down the lift surveying the vast mountainous ridges and slopes.
Bhima the Lover
In the village below, at the foothills lived a young man who was a scheduled caste, a sweeper by profession. Though he was generally ostracised, the young man was of a sturdy built and had a handsome face. He was dark-complexioned, but with chiseled features, a muscular body that would have done Bhima the legendary Mahabharta warrior proud. How can anybody forget how he killed the demon in physical combat. He was known as Bhima because of his prodigious strength. Many a time he would demonstrate his prowess by lifting a car by the front bumper.
One day when Bhima had finished his daily chore, he lay down on the wooden cot to rest. His mind wandered to the mansion on the hill and its occupant, the recluse and his lovely wife. His reverie was cut short by the voice of the village trader.
" Arre, Bhima," the trader asked him, " why are you lying so lazily on this cot?"
" Just resting" replied Bhima.
" Well, how would you like to earn ten thousand Rupees?"
Bhima got up from the cot as if prodded by an electric wire.
" Say that again, man," He said
" Yes, I shall give you 10000 rupees"
"That's a lot of money."
"Yes! it is"
" I accept, but what am I to do?"
" You must climb up that inaccessible slope and meet that beautiful girl there"
" Ah! It's just a challenge. Accept it or reject it, the choice is yours"
Bhima rose to his full height and looked at the trader, " I accept it"
" Good, you start now, but you must bring back something to show that you had been to that mansion"
" What do you want me to bring?"
The Bania lolled his tongue lewdly and slurped " Bring an undergarment of that princess and 10000 Rupees will be yours'
Bhima laughed and asked, " I shall do it man, but what will you get out of this?"
The Bania slunk away. He had no wish to answer Bhima. He was a corpulent man going on seventy, but his ardor had not diminished with age. Moreover, he could not disclose the name of the man who had persuaded him to do this act. This must remain a secret.He planned to get a lakh for his action.
Bhima had heard about the girl in the mansion and fantasized about her. On the other hand, the trader was sure Bhima could undertake the task for him.
That evening Bhima collected a rope and a small pickaxe and set off towards the far slope of the mountain. He walked fast wanting to climb the mountain quickly and return. He had not the faintest idea of how he was going to carry out the bet he had had with the trader. But the chance of winning ten tghousand rupees spurred him on. The Sun was setting, and he could make out the red tinge in the sky. He had heard about the fabled beauty in the mansion and had thought of going up to see her. But this had never happened for fear of him being rejected because of his caste. But with the bet on his mind, he pressed forward to the mansion on the mountain.
He reached the foothill. Before he rose the mountain in a series of cliffs, that matched each other in their steepness. Bhima began to clamber up the first cliff. It was steep and he threw his rope. Soon he had latched it to a crag and began to pull himself up. His arms worked like tireless pistons as his body propelled itself upwards. In a few moments, he had cleared the first hurdle and looked down towards the plains below. He had a panoramic view of his village and he wondered what the trader was doing.
He looked up and saw the house on a ledge further up and marveled at the man who had constructed it.
He dug in his pickaxe and slowly began to haul himself upwards. An hour passed and then another as Bhima pressed forward. His lungs took in large gulps of oxygen as he climbed up the mountain slope. The Sun had now set, and it had become dark. But Bhima carried forward relentlessly. Soon he had reached the outer wall of the mansion. He took a breather and thought over his next step. He would have to go stealthily, so as not to alarm anyone. Maybe the owner had guards around.
Bhima threw the rope and soon it fixed to a tall iron grill. He tugged at it to gauge its strength and then swiftly began to pull himself to the top of the wall. Unknown to the climber his actions had not gone unnoticed. The lonely girl had been going up and down in the glass lift and in the fading, Sunlight had noticed the climber clambering up the steep slope.
She wondered who the daredevil was and though the Sun had set she had remained in the lift trying to look below as to the whereabouts of the mysterious climber. She could not make out anything, yet the girl stood in the glass lift and was loathe to leaving. At that moment, as if on cue it began to drizzle, and visibility was reduced to almost zero. Yet she remained in the lift wondering who the intruder could be.
The drizzle soon turned to a downpour and the heavens opened up and thunder rent the air as it boomed and boomed creating an eerie effect. She pulled her shawl around her bare shoulders as the rain beat on the earth with rhythmic sound. She craned her eyes to the glass of the lift and tried to peer out. Her heart missed a beat as a figure loomed right in front of the glass on the other side. She noticed that the rain was falling fast and thick on him, but he didn't seem to mind.
The man was Bhima who had come up to the lighted lift and was looking inside. He had seen the girl and for a moment he forgot about the beating rain, as he stood enthralled by the beauty of the girl in the glass lift. The damsel reminded him of a goddess caged by an ogre. A tale he had heard from his Aunt. He could never have imagined that a woman could be so beautiful.
Bhima tapped on the glass and the girl quietly opened the door to the lift. In a trice, Bhima had entered and stood before the girl like a towering Hercules. The clothes stuck to his body and his muscles stood out in relief.
" Who are you?" she asked.
Bhima didn't answer but just pulled the beautiful damsel to him, his lips seeking the soft petals of her mouth. It was an invigorating kiss that sent the girl into a swoon and she did not hear when Bhima answered
" O lovely lady, my name is Bhima and I am a sweeper from the village below"
In any love bout, it is said that the Gods come down from Olympus to witness. So, it must have been as Bhima bared himself and the lovely damsel before him. It was ethereal love, as Bhima possessed the virgin lass completely. Outside the rain beat on the earth with tremendous ferocity, perhaps emulating the frenzy exhibited by Bhima and the girl in the lift. With a lingering kiss, Bhima quietly pocketed the panty of the muse and with a low salutation fled from the lift. As he left, he had an uncanny feeling that someone had watched him. He looked about but could see no one and quickly made his escapade.
The young wife had now slumped to the floor of the lift, overtaken by the emotions and tribulations of the past quarter of an hour. She was vaguely aware that her husband had entered the lift and pressed the button and the lift was moving upwards. Slowly the truth dawned on her and terror overtook as she looked up and saw that the figure that had entered and put the lift into motion was indeed her husband. As she looked up at the face the change in her husband's countenance and expression startled her. There was no anger on his face but a dull glow of passion. Oh, God! He had seen her mating with another man and yet he was not angry.
The tale must end now and like fantasies, it remains what it is; a dream. God save Lord Krishna, for the Lord said: "not a leaf moves without my will."