My name is Gautham (changed) from a Tamil family in Bangalore for three generations. The incident happened in 2014. You believe it or not, it really happened, but I have added some imagination to spice it up. It’s about my mother, who is traditional and deeply religious, everybody respects her, but also doesn’t know why, a few things happened. I’ve witnessed my parents having sex, which is a common occurrence in many homes. Seen her naked just in front of me and some more, which also really happened. I will tell continuations of this story.
For every son, it is sure that their mother is the first woman and crush they love and think they are our wife. Slowly as we grow up understanding they are mothers, not wives. It’s surely that the first naked women we see in our lives are our mothers. They think we are pure souls and show their bodies in front of us while dressing or doing something. And everyone surely saw.
I was 14 when happened. I have an elder brother and our mother is 42. My father distributor of Everest Masala and other consumer items. Busy from 9am to 7pm six days a week, other than that he is always with us only.
My mother’s name is Jyothi (changed). Fair skin, not thin or too thick, normal in size and has a tummy that can be seen. Breasts are slightly saggy. Beautiful and conservative in her looks. Her character is soft. But she gets angry if she doesn’t like something. We are happily living as a family.
It was November, my mother’s elder sister’s son’s engagement happened and the marriage was in December with only few days gap. Our family and relatives were busy in that preparation and discussion. For a week before they bought sarees and other dresses for the marriage.
Mom needed a designer blouse for her Kanchipuram saree but was too busy with wedding preparations. With only 3 days left, she had to choose blouses for multiple events and few chudidars. After browsing designs online in my father’s office, we finalised a combination late at night 8:30pm and we went by walking to tailor. A medium-sized house they have used as a tailor shop.
Our tailor, Prasad Kumar, a Kannada man with lighter skin than my dad (who is brown), has been our family’s go-to for stitching for a long time, even before my mom’s marriage. Since we called ahead, he was waiting for us alone at his tailor shop, which is located near my grandmother’s house.
The door was closed when arrived, so called him. He said he was inside. Opened it and welcomed us.
Jyothi: Prasad sorry, are we late?
Prasad: Hey nothing, this is marriage season. I had extra work, so I’m staying here only almost a week. Someone will come to chitchat, so only I had closed the door.
Jyothi: If you’re busy, then will you be able to give in two days?
Prasad: Jyothi, of course, I’ll stitch for you. You’ve been coming to me for stitching for as long as we’ve known each other. Even your mother has given for me only.
Jyothi: Thank You, Prasad. I only trust your tailoring skills, so if you had declined, it would have been challenging for me.
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