There was once a beautiful woman ( Ek Hasina Thi) Chapter 1

Chapter 3

When Rajnath returned back to the gathering, his clothes were already rumpled. He ran a hand through his thinning black hair as his eyes searched for his wife. His lust now ebbed, his annoyance was in full flair. The woman was still left in the bedroom, possibly trying to wrap her sheer saree around her and thinking of ways to hide the bite marks on her body. Rajnath was a cruel lover and an even cruel man. It was what made him stay at the top.

His eyes finally found his beautiful wife beside their son. Shakshi's face was expressionless, her eyes unreadable as usual, a trait which her son seemed to have gotten from her. His feet carried him to where they stood, easily distinguished from the masses by their strinking looks.

It wasn't as if the people present besides them weren't beautiful, but their beauty was extraordiary, cruel even to people. It was Shakshi's beauty that had pulled Rajnath towards to her like a fly, but it was also her beauty that had brought doom in his life.

As her husband reached them finally, Shakshi pulled him closer to her and sniffed him, slightly wrinkling her nose as she smelled woman's perfume on him. The smell of sex was there too but it was mostly unnoticeable.

" You could have the decency to spray some colonge on yourself before showing up here. I can still smell her on you," her voice was as beautiful as her looks, but to Rajnath it sounded like doom.

Shaurya gave no indication of hearing the conversation, as his eyes were lazily focused before him on the huge idol of Godess Durga and her children. Ma Durga looked beautiful,l her eyes big and focused intently on asura below her as her trident pierced his chest drawing out blood. Asura's eyes were wide in shock and the whites of his eyes were slowly turning to red as he looked up at the beautiful goddess set out to kill him. If one looked closely at Maa's face, they could feel the sympathy hidden depths below the anger. The carver was a genius, Shaurya thought. Even since he could remember, Shaurya loved the tales of Goddess Durga, he saw Durga in his mother, but that perception of his stopped very soon after.

The priest was checking over all the items needed for the puja, his wise and sharp eyes going over everything, completely oblivious to the fact that the heir to the Goenka group of industries was staring at him. Finally satisfied with everything, he nodded to his two helpers as they rose from their sitting position and went to fetch the arati. Shaurya's eyes fell once more on the imposing stature of the goddess and felt a sense of intimidation, before following his parents to a place a few feet away.

As the priest started the puja, he motioned for his helper to bring out the bhog. Shakshi went to lift the gold plate from the man's hands as he brought it from the kitchen and turned to her kin, signalling for them to take the golden plates from the servant's hands.

As the Goenka family gave the plates to the aged priest, the doors to the hall opened and in stepped a woman.

The priest started the puja, as his helpers started preparing the yagna.

The Sanskrit chants filled the room rendering everyone silent. Shaurya's eyes were fixed on the scene in front of him, oblivious to the stare of the woman a few feet behind him.

When the puja ended, the elderly priest took the burning arati from his helpers hands and moved it in circular motions in the air, again and again, repeating the same gesture over and over again, while chanting beautiful words in a soft voice. Shaurya felt an overwhelming sensation of being watched and looked back, scanning the crowd behind him, but no one seemed to stand out to him. As his light blue eyes focused back on the scene in front of him, the woman stepped out from the shadows and moved forward, her eyes on the priest as he handed over the arati over to his helper.

Shaurya looked away as soon as the puja ended, almost instinctively. As he started walking from the crowd, a hand reached out and grabbed him on his arm, gently. He looked up to his mother's light blue eyes.

" At least stay until the arati, for a few minutes in the least."

His mother never pleaded, she demanded. And although her voice was soft, the tone was not and Shaurya nodded. Even though it was unlikely for a man like him to ever love, but Shaurya loved his mother.He sighed as he took place beside her as they walked towards the crowds greeting people on their way back.

As the smoke of the arati wafted towards Shaurya, he took in a deep breath, relishing the smell of burning coals. The dhaki took their positions and started playing the dhak. Their beats all too familiar to Shaurya. He closed his eyes for a second, feeling more at home than he should. Involuntarily, he turned back to look at the dance.

It was a very well known custom for people to dance with the arati in front of Goddess Durga after the puja to the beat of drums as their music and devotion, towards the Goddess, as their inspiration. What made Shaurya stop was not the beauty of the scene, but the beauty of the woman in the middle of the scene.

Saying she was beautiful would be saying the Ganga was just a river and nothing else. But the truth was that Ganga was river of sustenance to people of the country, a river whose majestic nature left people in awe of it. People went to bathe in the holy waters to wash themselves of their sin as well as reach the abode of heaven. Ganga should be worshiped, loved and awed.

As should she.

As her body moved to the exhilarating beats of the dhak, twisting to the music, her shapely limbs moving with a rhythm which was seductive to an extreme level. Her saree flew as she moved around the floor, her long black silky hair flowing freely behind her, as if swaying to the music itself. Its inky depths called out to him, to his soul and to his body. Her doe shaped eyes were closed, her lips were tilted up in a smile so seductive and so innocent at the same time, that it almost made him want to worship that smile. Her upturned nose was petite and her face was round. The heat of the fire in the arati made sweat beads appear on her forehead, and they rolled down her face, almost like a soft caress on his creamy fair skin. Her breasts heaved in large breaths as she moved around, as if flowing around, the tips of her toes visible underneath her blood red saree. Her small fingers clutched the arati and her wrist moved in time with her small waist, in beautiful graceful seductive movements. As she moved, her saree draped open at her waist, showing the soft skin at her navel and Shaurya sucked in a breath.

She was a goddess, he decided, no human could be that beautiful.

As she turned away from him, the backside of her blouse showed the creamy skin of her shapely back. His eyes traveled down to her backside,oval and perfectly portrayed by the saree as it moved in seductive motions, challenging his very sanity.

Shaurya closed his eyes at the erotic sight. It wasn't as if the woman was dressed in a revealing manner, or that he had never seen a naked woman before.

It was just something about her that rendered him speechless, left him burning with lust.

It was foreign.

It was frightening.

As Shaurya looked at the woman that ignited his passion, he decided that by any force, he would make her his.

She was about to experience the infamous Shaurya Goenka.