Nikita: Episode 6

What do you do when you walk into a room and see your sister with her step-cousin, Vikram? With her sitting on the edge of a bed, her dress dropped to her waist, the bra lying on the floor? And he standing over her, his shirt unbuttoned, and his member protruding hard and big?

I was looking for the stray kitten who ventured into our house sometimes and followed its trail into the room. All curtains were drawn, but there was enough light to see what they were doing. I watched them, transfixed and fascinated, while they carried on, oblivious to my presence. He was moving his hands all over her, and cupped her breasts when she bent down to take him in her mouth. They moved and made muffled sounds till he withdrew with a jerk – and squirted something whitish-grey over her chest.

I was too young to understand what was going on. I did not know what sex was. I did not know what a blowjob was. I did not know a man does not ‘pee’ after a blowjob, he comes and goes limp.

Vikram was all smiles when he was done but my sister was expressionless. As she had been all through. They noticed me standing in the shadows by the door only when they turned in my direction. Vikram smirked, and I still remember him giving me a flying kiss while he fastened his belt. My sister had a look of panic on her face.

What are you doing here, she asked while clumsily fastening her bra and pulling her dress back up.

I was looking for Lora.

Who is Lora?

My kitty.

When did you get a kitty?

She comes to visit me sometimes.

Go out.


No wait. Don’t go.

She looked at Vikram and asked him to leave. He left, grinning. Radha didi came up to me, went down on her knees, looked into my eyes and asked when I had come into the room.

A little while back, I said.

What did you see? Or forget it, it’s ok. Don’t talk about this to anyone.


Please don’t tell anyone.




It’s our secret.


Want a chocolate?


What do you want?

Ice cream.

Ok, let’s go get one.

I also want Lora.

Sure, where is she?

I don’t know.

Ok, let’s look for her.

So we went looking for the kitten and the ice cream cart. We found only the latter, and picked up my favourite mango duet bar.

What were you playing with Vikram bhaiya, I asked referring to the big brother.


But you were.

It is not for children.

I am not a child.

No, you are.

I will ask papa.

No, it’s our secret.

So why won’t you tell me?

I will. When you are my age.



I went back to licking my lolly. I had seen other people in the house together without any clothes, so there was nothing novel or surprising seeing my sister in that state. I assumed it was something everyone did. Even I wanted to. But in that moment, my priority was not to let any of my precious ice-cream drip on my frock.


There were no secrets in our house. Even if there were, I was privy to most of them. I just happened to walk in on events. I moved about silently, barely noticeable; I would describe it as creepy. Even when the protagonists in the middle of an action scene spotted me, they carried on. I was not a witness to be a cause for any alarm or embarrassment.

Maybe. But my photographic memory captured everything. To play back later in life. When the child would be an adult, and would then interpret the meaning of those images. Many events would no longer matter by then, and it might be too late to do anything about some. I would be tormented by mixed emotions; there would be anger, there would be regret, there would be a sense of helplessness. I would want to scream when hindsight showed how things could have been different, how much of the hurt and abuse could have been prevented. It would not be possible to turn the clock back, nor could the dead be woken to demand an apology for their misdeeds.

But back then, I did not understand why Vikram bhaiya was ‘peeing’ over Radha didi. Or why Birju chacha was moving fervently on top on Lata tai without any clothes on. When Gloria tai had a relation from Israel staying with us, why were they taking a bath together when Brajesh tauji was travelling to Bombay? Why would Rupa bua be crying when Mahesh uncle had his hand between her legs and moving a finger in and out?

I would also see Vikram bhaiya lock up his room at times when he had his male friends visiting. Why would they take their clothes off and feel each other and ‘pee’ again and again? Who were the women who would come into the house from the door in the back at night with Mahesh uncle, follow him to a room on the terrace and let out loud moans from behind closed doors? Why were those women painted with heavy make-up and deep red lipstick, smelling of revolting perfume, and be wearing flashy clothes over their buxom bodies? Why did they come in a group sometimes led by an old woman, wrinkled with age but equally flashy, and argue over payments due to them? Why would Mahesh uncle need to pay those women?

It was all happening in our house. I was the roving camera, secretly recording the goings-on. I wish I had stayed innocent to the ways of the House of Mathurs.

You are reading the book Nikita in episodes. Click to read the previous episode. Next episode will be posted soon.

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