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The Desi Man Servant

My name is Celina and my husband Mahesh. We are both of Indian origin. Our marriage was by arrangement as it is the custom back home in India. I came from a very poor family background, one of the six daughters to my dad who was in a clerical job. As it was the tradition, to get a daughter married, it cost an arm and a leg, especially for the dowry demanded by the groom’s parents. He had hell of a job to scrounge enough dowry to get my two elder sisters married and he was dreading how on earth he was going to manage to get me married. I was nineteen years old then and was in the first year at university.

A relative of our family mentioned to my parents about a doctor who was living abroad, who was keen to get married to a girl of his origin and was not particular at all about a dowry. One thing going for me was I was considered to be very pretty by local standards. Fair complexion, petite, well endowed - all were added bonuses. My photo was sent to him and in no time there was a positive response. At no stage during this deliberation was my opinion either asked or was the prospective groom’s photo ever shown to me. I was expected to accept my elders’ decision and be thankful for small mercies!

Anyhow, the wedding date was fixed and the groom arrived the previous week from overseas. The first time I met him was at the home of the relative who organised the proposal. I was dolled up for the occasion in a very attractive sari and with all the make up one could imagine. I looked my self in the mirror and could not believe how beautiful I was – was like an Indian movie star! I felt very proud of my self. But as soon as walked into the lounge where the prospective groom was sitting, I felt as if the whole world was collapsing around me. Mahesh was sitting there and he was just the opposite of what I ever imagined of my future husband to be. He was short, bald and lots older – thirtytwo to be exact and his features were nothing to write home about. I had to try my best to hide my disappointment and went through the motions of introductions. I could perceive his eyes taking stock of me and felt his eyes and mind unrobing me layer by layer. It was not my imagination, as a woman could always tell when a man is doing it. I could have overlooked his appearance, but his lurching looks really put me off and I developed an instant dislike towards him.

The revulsion got worse as the day went. We were asked to go for a walk together to ‘come to know each other’ as it was put to me. Thus, we left the house and went to a near by park. I did not know what to talk to him about. Her kept the conversation going, telling about the western country where he has been living for the past few years and the glorious things he has seen and done etc. It was obvious he was trying to impress upon me what a great person he was and how lucky I was to have been betrothed to him! I was the least bot interested in what he was saying. When we sat down on the park bench, he moved closer to me and put his hands around me. I felt uncomfortable, never been so close to a man before. But what shocked me was when he took the liberty to put his hand on one of my breasts.

I was too shocked to say any thing, but managed to blurt out, “what are you doing?”

He said ‘Hey there is no harm in that; you are going to get married any how. I just want top try out how good your boobs were.”

I was stunned by his tone and his attitude. I managed to get his hand off my breast.

He said as we were leaving, “You have to get used to this once we get married.”

“Get used to what?” I asked.

“Not to feel shy about publicly showing off affection for each other”, he said and then turned around and hugged me and kissed me on my lips.

I have always tried to imagine what it would be to be kissed by some one and his kiss was nothing like what I imagined. To begin with, he was rough and smelt of alcohol. On top of it he had dreadful mouth odour and when he tried to push his tongue inside my mouth I felt nauseated. It was a great relief when he let me go and we waked back home without saying any thing to each other. I was half a mind to tell every one at home who were waiting for us to return that I was not going to go thorough the charade of this marriage. But, I felt sad for my poor parents and also the disgrace it would be brought upon them, if I disrupt this arrangement.

I can not remember too much of the happenings during the week leading to the wedding. I was like a zombie going through the motions. Few of my friends noticed that I was not my self asked me whether I was happy about the marriage. I did my best to hide my feelings from every one. What should have been the happiest occasion of my life was a disaster as far as I was concerned. I was determined that I was going to make the best use of the opportunity. I did all my crying in the confines of my room and when I walked down the aisle in the hands of my father, I stood with my head high and with a forced smile which fooled every one including my dear future husband.

The ‘honeymoon’ was in a holiday villa at a beach resort near by. Mahesh was so drunk at the wedding he was incapable of any thing leave alone making love. But that did not stop him from having sex with me. It was more of a rape rather than making love. I just let him do what ever he wanted to do. He virtually mauled me with his hands and mouth and when he entered my virgin vagina which was still dry and unprepared, I screamed with pain which he mistook for expression of joy. It was the beginning of a daily ritual. Like any good Indian wife, I was very submissive to his ‘needs’ as he calls it, at least once a day sometimes even more than once. He never asked me whether I enjoyed it at all. He also likes to kiss me and or fondle me in public places like parks or cinema. I felt very uncomfortable about it but he never took notice of my objections.

Within a few days of the wedding, we left for overseas; it was a new world for me. I loved all what it had to offer. There was plenty of money because he had very good earning. Big house with all modern amenities. Soon the twins arrived. Kris and Ryan. They were the best thing happened to me. They were handful. With the kids and house work, I was getting tired of cleaning and doing all the chores around the house and I started to complain about it. Mahesh after my constant complaints for years agreed to get some help. But typical like as any other frugal Indian man (!) he wanted to do it the cheapest way. He thought if only he could get a hired help from back home, it will be cheaper on the long run as once you pay for the air fare, one has to pay the person only in Indian currency, at the local Indian rates for a hired help.

So he wrote home to his uncle or some one to find some one and they wrote back to say that they do have a young man from the schedule cast (there is a distinct cast system in India. People from the higher cast are considered superior and occupy the lucrative positions and those from the lower casts end up doing the menial jobs). I was not happy about the help being a man; I was expecting it will be a girl as it will be easier for me to instruct what to do. Mahesh did not mind as long as it was a helper or in reality a ‘servant’ as we would have referred to them back home in India. Reluctantly, I agreed to the arrangement.

It took a month to get the necessary paper work done to get the visa clearance. He was given one year temporary visa. Finally the day arrived when Mahesh went to the airport to pick him up. Roger looked pleasant enough and was very courteous. He was twenty years old and was able to communicate with me in English. He quickly settled down into his duties.

Apart from cooking and cleaning the house, he was also able to do the shopping and other chores around the house. I thought all my Christmases have arrived together.

The twins have just started junior school and thus I had the week days free giving me plenty of time to relax and being a lady around the house for the first time since I was married. And now with some one to do all the chores, what else do I need? The only down side was that I had to put up with Mahesh’s ‘love making’ once or twice a week. I never got around to enjoy it but went through with it like a good wife and even learned to make him feel adequate, making him believe that I was enjoying it.

Roger

I was very concerned about this trip abroad. I have never left my home town. I have finished my high school and wanted to have a break from studies before entering university. When some one mentioned about this opportunity to go abroad as a ‘hired help’ as they call it I jumped at the idea. It will give me the chance to see a foreign country and if lucky earn some foreign currency too. I know that I will be paid in Indian currency for my services but all my other expenses will be met by my employers.

I had no idea what to expect from the people for whom I will be working for except for the fact that he is a doctor, married and has twins of school going age.

When I met the master of the house at the airport I took as instant dislike for him. He was stern and unfriendly. He told me that I was to call him Sir and his wife Madam. When we arrived home I was surprised to notice that she was very beautiful and looked lots younger than him. She reminded me of an Indian Movie actress whose name I could not remember. I could not keep my eyes from staring at her but tried my best not to make it obvious. She was very kind and gentle when she talked to me. She inquired about my trip and my family. I was given the spare room next to the kid’s room and she made sure I had all I needed.

The kids were a bit reluctant to warm up to me to start with but soon they became friendly and never stopped chatting from then on. They wanted to know all about India they have heard a lot about.
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