The Navelicious Memories

Rishi sat back in the single sleeper of the bus, the gentle hum of the engine lulling him into a reflective state. His thoughts drifted back to the past few days spent with his mom Sumathi. He could vividly picture the way her belly would gently rise and fall with her laughter, also how he would often use her pebble smooth plush belly as his pillow and a grand feast of those liquid desserts from her belly brought a smile to his face. Those naughty mellowed moans of his mom whenever he tastes her navel replayed in his mind like a favourite movie he couldn’t get enough of.

However as he sat there, the last conversation he had with his mom began to making way for thoughts of his aunt Subhadra. Particularly that unforgettable summer holiday in his second grade, made him feel the familiar butterflies in his stomach. Actually Sumathi and Kumar had planned a simple two-day getaway to Subhadra’s house. As they arrived Subhadra welcomed him with open arms. Rishi and Laya along with his cousin Priya spent hours playing, exploring the little nooks of Subhadra’s home, lost in their childhood world. The days flew by, filled with fun and laughter.

However, as the two days drew to a close, he had felt a pang of disappointment when Kumar announced it was time for them to head back. Rishi could hardly contain himself and Subhadra noticed Rishi’s face fell too. In a sudden twist Subhadra asked Rishi “Why don’t you stay a little longer, Rishi? Your school reopens after two week nah? You have plenty of time to enjoy!” upon hearing this Rishi’s heart leaped at the idea and without a second thought he agreed. And that’s when the real fun began.

Rishi found himself revelling in his time with Subhadra aunty and Priya. But beneath that laughter, Rishi discovered something else an awakening curiosity that stirred within him each time he caught glimpses of Subhadra aunty’s waist, as he was so captivated by the way his mom’s saree pallu would drape just so, creating a subtle gap that offered a tantalizing  glimpse of her fleshy belly and deep navel.

But when it’s come to Subhadra, whenever she is at home, she consciously drapes her saree in a way that leaves her yummy waist completely naked, allowing the saree to drape elegantly around her hips while leaving her midriff exposed. This little quirk is to all about pleasing her husband Krishna, offering him an unobstructed view and let his hands to his most favourite spot, her midriff. And moreover, he found that his Subhadra aunty’s belly appeared to be a little more beautiful than his mother’s. Subhadra’s belly was adorned with extra creamy layer of fat, making it aesthetically pleasing from all sides. On account of some naughty fat settled around her waist created two distinct folds on either side of her midriff, made her stand out.

During those two weeks, it was like a scene straight out of one of those Mallu B-Grade flicks. Since Rishi was just 7 years old, Subhadra would get him to sleep in their room. But most of the mornings whenever he stirred from sleep he would often catch a glimpse of his Subhadra aunty, who was in the midst of draping her saree around herself, clad only in her blouse and petticoat. He would lie there silent and watches her. The way she fasten the tiny hooks of her blouse at front

The blouses she always wears were stretched to the limit trying to contain all the delightful massiveness of her large boobies. It was a deep U-neck blouse and consequently, it always expose her deep cleavage of her huge meaty breasts.

It didn’t fail to provoke an eruption in him, but his eyes widened with innocent curiosity as they were drawn to her belly. Subhadra aunty’s belly was creamy and plush, spilling gently over the edge of her petticoat. He noticed how her deep round navel rested in the middle, a dark, almost mysterious hollow that seemed to pull his gaze towards it.

Though he had seen his mother Sumathi in blouse and petticoat in the halfway of draping her saree on numerous occasions was always a delightful experience for him. Her figure, particularly her soft tummy and perfectly round navel, never failed to capture his youthful attention. Each time he saw her in this state brought a smile to his face, igniting a sense of wonder and excitement within him. But he found Subhadra aunty was a different. Where his mother was fleshy and curvaceous, Subhadra seemed to a ripe voluptuous women. When it comes to her midriff it almost looks just like his mother, but it’s more fluffy and seductive in some way. Though his mother’s navel was a round inviting indent, Subhadra’s seemed much larger and deeper as an exotic dark pool nestled in the center of a milky expanse.

More than the moments when Subhadra drapes her saree Rishi always looks forward to the days when he gets his hair washed. Subhadra is dedicated to maintaining a healthy hair care routine and has encouraged her daughter to wash her hair three times a week. On those hair wash days, Subhadra would unwraps her saree and enter the bathroom clad simply in her blouse and petticoat. As she didn’t want her saree becoming splashed and wet in the flurry of bath time. This was a common occurrence in their household, but it held a special significance for Rishi.

Subhadra, in her motherly way, treated Rishi no differently than Priya. He was, in her eyes, another child to be cared for, and another head of hair to be scrubbed clean. Once Subhadra wrapped up washing Priya’s hair and left the bathroom, she’d shout for Rishi. When his turn came, he would sit on a little plastic stool, all excited and ready to go. While Subhadra bent over to lather his hair her whitish pudgy belly and deep navel would presented directly just inches from his face. It was as if it was staring right back at him, taunting him with its juicy depth.

Subhadra, being the loving aunty and was completely unaware of the impact, would play with Rishi during the head wash session. She would make funny faces and sing songs to keep him entertained.  But Rishi focused on the deep navel in front of him, trying to figure out just how deep it went. His eyes absorbed every detail, the way the light played on the rim of her navel, the subtle shadow that pooled within its depths, the creamy curve of her belly leading into it.

While Subhadra would playfully rub his hair with shampoo, creating a mountain of white foam. “Close your eyes, Rishi kanna” she’d say, her voice a gentle murmur. “The shampoo foam will sting.” He hated the stinging but even more, he hated closing his eyes. Because  while her hands were busy scrubbing his hair, causing her lower belly flesh would jiggle slightly like a fluffy pudding and she come even closer, and he would get a better view of that mysterious navel.

Occasionally he kept stealing glances at the tight blouse that enclosed her milky boobies.  It reminded him of two balloons joined together trying of cover up the long narrow valley/cleavage between them.

Subhadra was unaware of the impact she had on her young nephew. She didn’t realize this was causing Rishi to have feelings that went beyond simple affection.

Also he often watches his uncle Krishna playfully pokes / pinch / squeeze his Subhadra aunty’s fleshy belly. The way Subhadra moan with a “Aeeeehh” or “Ayyyyohhhh” or with “MMMMmmm” and with a beautiful expression on her face, and sometimes she would pat uncle lightly in a naughty way.  Rishi found his aunty looked incredibly cute in that particular smile.

Rishi also noticed the way Subhadra’s eyes would light up whenever Krishna tickled her waist fold. He could tell that she enjoyed it, he himself wanting to do the same but was a little scared that she might scold him. So, he held back, not daring to act on his impulses until his vacation came to an end, but he treasured every moment they spent together. Subhadra was the one of the main reason that his innocent fascination towards woman’s midriff began to morph into something deeper in to him.

While Rishi was immersed in the world of navels, “Hey! Terminal’s here!” The conductor’s voice snapped Rishi out of his ‘NAVEL WORLD’.  A quick auto-rickshaw ride later, he arrived at his sister Laya’s in-laws’ house.

Laya was once a teacher, passionate about shaping young minds. But, within months of marriage, she was reduced to a housewife, a role her mother-in-law had insisted upon. He knew the situation was tens, snippets of Laya’s strained phone calls, veiled complaints about her mother-in-law’s controlling nature, had found their way to him.

Rishi knew her mother-in-law’s motivations, the fear of losing her son to his marriage, the desperate need to maintain control. She saw Laya as a threat, so she systematically clipped her wings, turning the energetic teacher into a housebound drudge. But on the contrary Laya’s husband Vivek the kind man. A medical rep, he worked long hours, but always called to check on her, showering her with affection and reassurance. And then there was her father-in-law, a retired government employee, he is like dead snake under the control of his wife.

As Rishi reached the house, he pressed the doorbell. And the door swung open exactly as he pictured, and there was Laya. Her face ignited with a radiant smile, before he could even speak, she enveloped him in a hug, her warmth a welcome homecoming. “Rishi!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy as she pulled him inside. Their laughter echoed in the hallway. As they stepped further in, Laya’s mother-in-law emerged from a nearby room. A formal smile stretched across her face as she acknowledged Rishi’s arrival. “Hello, Rishi beta” she said, in her measured tone “Sit, sit why are you standing?” While the greeting was conventional, “Laya, did you add enough salt to the sambar? It tastes bland,” her mother in law declared, not bothering to hide the distaste in her voice. This was her daily routine, finding fault with everything Laya did.

As her mother-in-law turned to head to her room, Rishi’s jaw dropped seeing her posterior, her pumpkin buttocks wrapped in her saree were swaying in a wave-like motion as she walked. The way her plump ass rose and bounced with every step reminded him of his Subhadra aunty’s fluffy pillow buttocks.

Rishi watched her keenly as before stepping in the room, her gaze fixed on a magazine resting on a small table to her right. As she leaned slightly forward to pick it up, the pallu of her saree slipped down from her waist, unintentionally exposing her midriff. To his dismay, he noticed that she had draped her saree just above her navel. But being so whitish and bit plump figure made her exposed upper belly oozing with hotness.

The creamy soft expanse of her belly was a stark contrast to the sharp words coming out of mouth against Laya. As she straightened up, the pallu of her saree settled back into place, but the fleeting glimpse had already left him daydreaming about her navel, what lay hidden beneath the folds of her saree? Would it be perfectly round, perhaps more oval, or even have a unique vertical slit?

Rishi regrets that he imagined Laya’s mother-in-law as a person who always had a frown on her face, a woman who only aimed to criticize Laya. That’s how Laya’s stories portrayed her. As befits that, Rishi has seen her behave a little sternly a few times, he thought there must be a reason behind her behaving that way.

Laya’s mother in law Roopa Chatterjee was a typical Bengali beauty, with fair glowing complexion, adorned with wide hips and a voluptuous body, exuded a sensuality that was impossible to ignore. Bengali women are often celebrated for their beauty, and Roopa was not an exception. Though Roopa had a plump figure almost similar to Subhadra’s, but the stark contrast was Roopa always tucks the waistline of her saree above her navel.

And all of a sudden Laya emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of cut pieces of milk pudding, “Here,” she said and Rishi took the bowl. He took a piece of milk pudding and shakes his hand a bit that caused the pudding to jiggle, reminded him of Roopa aunty’s belly that unfolded in front of eyes just before. He then swallowed and enjoyed the taste

“How is it?” while Laya asked he said “MMMM… want to taste everything”. Smiling at him Laya took his bag away to the room arranged in the first floor. 

As he tastes the milk pudding, a playful thought flickered in his mind. Could there be a tender, unspoken side to her, just like the soft belly hidden beneath the pleats of her saree, waiting to be awakened by…what?