Oru asaadharan pranayakadha - An extraordinary love story
Artreyan was obsessed about her. She was the most attractive woman in the whole of Paruthipuram. Her perfectly hemispherical breasts, her wide hips. She featured in all of young Artreyan's fantasies, with the insignificant exception of his elderly house-maid playing a guest role.
Artreyan was consumed by the Goddess, Bhagavathi, or more colloquially, Pothi. Artreyan's infactuation began when he heard the extremely vulgar and risque songs that drunken men would sing in praise of the Goddess at the Bharani temple festival. They were about wild sexual encounters with the Goddess. Young Artreyan's mind found the perversion of fucking the Goddess appealing to all his senses, and against all conventional morality and ethics.
Sex with the Goddess was not just sex, it was prayer. Artreyan prayed everyday. He would pray multiple times a day, alone in the attic, his mind shaped the love communion with the Goddess. They met at the rock quarry on moonlit nights, they met in the middle of rubber plantations, at the river, early in the morning.
Young Artreyan's body was becoming weaker and weaker as the sex became intense. It was as if the Pothi was sucking the life out of him. Artreyan slowly realized this and he maintained distance from the Pothi. Artreyan contracted tuberculosis and was admitted to the hospital. The doctors insisted on complete bed rest for the next two months. His body was too weak, he may die if he doesn't rest and recuperate.
They discharged him after a couple of days. Artreyan stopped on the way back home, to take a peek at the temple. It was dark. The sun had already set. Birds huddled on trees in silence. The Arayal tree held its breath. It was the time of the day, the Devi emerged. The whole universe waited in silence for her foot steps. Artreyan forgot his fatigue, his illness, he forgot about time.
The lamps flinched. A light draught. There she is. Her perfect buxom body. The tiny droplets of sweat on her body were glistening in the yellow light of the lamps. The spherical breasts through the white cotton. She held a lamp in her hands. She walked straight ahead, so did Artreyan. As they inched closer to each other, fire rose all around them. They were engulfed in the fire of their desire. The Arayal tree was the only silent witness.
Kutti and Paru were the first ones to see it. Artreyan's youthful lifeless body floating on the banks of the river, amongst the water lillies, in the early morning mist.
