Tuesday , August 9 2022

My brother did not force me doctor, I seduced him.

“Did your brother force you?” asked the doctor.

“No” she said, “I seduced him.”

It was at a marriage reception that Dr. Gopika, gynaecologist in a local medical college hospital, who knew of my interest in human sexual behaviour, told me about a diary of a former young patient of hers that she thought may be of value to me. The next day itself I collected the roll of loose sheets tied up with string.

It was not a diary really; the girl had jotted down certain happenings in her life on paper cut out from her old school notebooks. The girl wrote in Tamil in her print like hand. I present my translation hoping that I have managed to preserve the tone of her writing. Apart from excluding matter of no relevance to the story I have not tampered with the text.

* * *

12 Sep. 2002

I once considered as unrealistic stories and movies in which lovers crazed by unfulfilled love hold hands and jump off cliffs. Not any more. I now know there is no limit to what lovers can do when in the frenzy of their passion. I am afflicted. No, I am not thinking of jumping off cliffs. I want to do something even more frightening than that. Movie story writers will not dare deal with the theme of my affliction. The person to whom I have lost my heart is my blood brother. Incest they say is against nature. Religions prohibit it, and it is against law of this land. All very good reasons to steer clear of it, but I have no control over my feelings.

My brother loves me too, which is natural enough; but I do not know if is it just the deep love a brother has for his only sister, or I am in his sexual fantasies. Most of the time when he looks at me it does not affect me, but at times there is something in the look that sends a thrill through my body. If he were to call me at those times he pronounces my name Mahesh with an intonation that quite blows me over. Deep down I am sure he has sexual thoughts about me at those times. My greatest worry is that he might develop interest in another girl. The very thought of his being with another girl gets me tensed up. I will not allow that to happen, I won’t.

I do not know how it started. I always loved my only brother as any sister would. In my eighteenth year he became the object of my sexual fantasies. Maybe all sisters hold their older brothers as their fantasy objects at some phase in their lives. In my case however it became more intense till it is now all absorbing. His image is in my mind’s eye all the time. When I see a man’s face in a poster the face changes to that of my brother. At times young men who come to my counter in the department store where I am a sales person look so like my brother that I smile at them in an intimate way. Some of these men get excited; I have put on a stern face to shake them off. I think of him and him alone while masturbating which I seem to be doing very often these days.

My brother, who at 23 is two years older then me, is quite ordinary looking: medium height and medium build with a somewhat flat face. His eyes are not particularly large but they sparkle. May be only I see the sparkle for he has not been doing too well in job interviews. He is a clerk in a shop selling bicycles. Nothing much, but better than driving an auto that my father did almost till a few days before his death. My job is better too than my mother’s; she has been a top servant woman for as long as I can remember.

My brother is a gentle person. He always wants to help others. Everyone in our street likes him. We live in a crowded by-lane in Purasawalkam. Even by Chennai standards it is dense with people. The children call him Mano anna (elder brother) and the grown ups call him Mano thambi (younger brother). There are two girls in the houses opposite ours who have an eye on my brother. One of them is quite pretty. They are very friendly with me because I am his sister. Little do they know that I consider them my rivals and hate them from the bottom of my heart.

7 October 2002

I love Mondays. It is my off day. His office time is ten. My mother leaves at seven after preparing rice cakes for our breakfast. My mother and I are up early. We take our bath before the brother who is a late riser. He needs hot water. When I ask my mother why I do not get hot water for my bath (except on very cold days in January) she says that women must do with cold water. Ours is a society in which men get everything. When we have chicken for dinner my brother gets the drum sticks, one for lunch and one for supper. My mother and I have to do with the wings.

On Mondays I can watch my brother take his bath by peeping from an opening I have enlarged in the kitchen window. He takes his bath in the open. He wears a thin towel round his waist. When it gets wet it sticks to his genitals, and I watch with fascination. His scrotum is funny. Just before he pours water on himself I can see it hanging loose. As soon as he wets himself it becomes tight. The penis is a funny thing too. At times it is small and shrivelled, and at times it becomes thicker and longer. I believe the penis becomes thick and hard during sexual intercourse. I have not seen an erect one in man. I have seen it many times in the donkey of a dhobi who lives nearby. His donkey often strays into our area. Its cock becomes really long and thick. Once it was standing behind a female donkey and was nibbling its tail. Its cock was monstrous. I wanted to see how the cock goes into the female donkey’s vagina. Then inexplicably the female donkey ran away. I was disappointed. It is funny isn’t that the only two organs in the body that change visibly in shape are the parts of male’s genitals. Does it mean that the male is more powerful than the female and is entitled to both the drum sticks?

12 Oct 2002

I can feel by the way a man looks at me whether he is just appreciating me as a woman or is eating me up with lust. I suppose all women get the feeling. With my brother I am not sure. At times I feel it is not quite brotherly appreciation of a sister. I wish he would look at me with lust that so many who come to my store do. I must be pretty for them to do so. My mother thinks I am the prettiest girl in the neighbourhood. I do not think so; the girl in the opposite house I have spoken about before is much prettier. I like to think that I resemble actress Snega. Her face I fancy is like mine, or rather the other way about. She is much taller though. All the girls I know think they resemble one actress or the other.

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