Chapter 20 - Making plans and getting ready

Vidhya, my wife was understandably worried.  I was planning to meet Shobha as both the fictional female Radha and the real husband Radha in a single meeting.  How was I going to do that?

I told Vidhya that I planned to send Radha - her husband - on a business trip while Radha - Vidhya's sis-in-law - was to meet Shobha in person.  Then she would make the excuse of changing and call from the personal telephone extension in our bedroom on the 1st floor the general telephone at home and speak as the brother to Shobha and make an excuse of not being able to meet in person as his work took longer than anticipated. The sister meanwhile would change and come down and escort Shobha accompanied by Vidhya to buy sweets at some of the stores in Mangalore City.

There was also the background story of where my sister Radha stayed - with my parents or with us.  I told Vidhya that normally Radha stayed with my parents but since Shobha was visiting and wanted to meet the male Radha as well, she was spending the day in her brother and sister-in-law's home.  Shobha was to be hosted in Radha and Vidhya's home.

But the secret of the single Radha becoming man and woman would remain secret - after all Shobha was a journalist - the most untrustworthy of humankind.

For the home meeting, I wanted to wear the formal salwaar khameez that I had bought in Bombay along with the long line bra during Shobha's visit.  And I would change into the informal one when I would make the phone call.

Since Shobha's visit was at such short notice, we had to scramble to get me ready.  Luckily since my body hair grew rather slowly, I did not need to go through yet another hair removing exercise - I was ready already!  (Moreover, Vidhya would have felt any stubble when we were intimate in bed.)

The problem was how to handle the servants.  Of course, Saroja our resident maid (who moved to our home from my parents) and her husband (who was now our driver) were privy to me sometimes being en-femme. She told Saroja that she should take charge of all work on the day of Shobha's visit because I was going to be en-femme.  By now, she knew better than to ask any questions.

The night before Shobha was to leave Bombay, she called up again and spoke to Radha (the woman) informing her that her schedule in Mangalore was totally packed and that she would be able to spend only 3 hours from 10 am to 1 pm on Saturday.  We told her that we would send our car to pick her up and that she would be dropped wherever she wanted at the end of her visit to our home.

The next day, we woke up very early.  Vidhya unfortunately had a bit of nausea due to morning sickness.  We decided that we were not going to tell her parents about this until Shobha had left and I had changed back to male mode.  So during the visit, Vidhya would need to rest for a little which would require me to gossip with Shobha.

In the time that Vidhya got ready in the main bedroom, I had an early shower and had all my female attire properly laid out for me in the spare bedroom.  During the shower, I examined the parts that were going to be exposed very critically.  I realised I would need a nailpolish on my nails to complete the picture of femininity.

Drying myself completely, I stood in the nude in our bedroom to which our bathroom was attached.  First the loin cloth, then a pair of printed panties.  Then the long line bra which I wanted to wear for getting a nice figure.  I filled up the cups with the breast forms and sat down to make up my face at the dressing table that was primarily Vidhya's.  Foundation, blusher, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara - one by one each got used.  In about 30 minutes, my face was all made up.

Now it was the turn of the hair.  I was going to tie up my hair in a bun.  Using the thermocole wig stand, I tied up the long hair on the wig into a neat bun.  Next it was the black hair band on which the wig was to be attached.

Before attaching the wig, I chose to wear my salwaar and my khameez to preclude my hair getting dislodged.  After adjusting the salwaar to the right length at the hem and the khameez for the right placement, placed the wig on my head.  Within a minute, I was using bobby-pins to attach the wig firmly to my head.  A quick look told me I looked beautiful.

Some finishing touches remained - Bindi, more lipstick, arranging some of the currls of the wig on the side of my face, jewellery - necklace, bangles, clip on earrings and anklets and a ladies wrist watch that was very delicate on my wrists. Last of all, I applied nail polish on my toenails and then on my fingernails.  I chose to use the hair dryer to speed up the drying process.  I took out the purse that I had used on my Bombay trip and transferred their contents to one of Vidhya's purses whose color matched my dress. To that I added the lipstick I had just used and the powder that I had finished off my make up with.

I called Vidhya to the bedroom and she eyed my appearance critically.  She liked my appearance.  Vidhya was seeing me for the first time in the new salwaar khameez because I had not modelled it for her after my return from Bombay.  She thought that my choice of clothes was good - the outfit not only fit me correctly but also suited me for the color and style.  She was surprised at my lack of waist and enhanced hips.  I pulled up the khameez and showed her the long line bra. Vidhya made me promise her to take her to Bombay after delivery to buy one for her too so that her waistline did not appear motherly.

We were going to have a light breakfast before Shobha's arrival and the full breakfast - more like a brunch with Shobha.

At about 7 am Shobha had called and told us that her flight landed at Mangalore Airport at 9. We assured her she would be received by our driver and me.

After breakfast, I needed only a pair of sunglasses to make the picture complete.

Chapter 21

Table of contents

Chapter 19 - Shobha calls

 

After bidding Shobha goodbye, I returned to my hotel with my purchases.
 

I was eager to try out all of them.  And now that my purpose of trip was over, I had no real need to stay back in Bombay any longer.  But I could not resist a few hours of primping and preening in my new clothes.

After locking my room door, I placed all the bags on the bed - which had been made in my absence - sat on the chair - a little tired from my exertions.

Reaching out to the bags, I took out all the bras from their cardboard boxes and plastic bag and the Salwaar khameez sets from the plastic bag.

I laid them neatly side by side on the bed as sets.

Next I unpinned my pallu and let the saree fall.  I was standing in front of a large mirror in the room and the sight of me with my blouse fully exposed was quite a turn on.  I removed the saree from where it was tucked in my petticoat and put it on the bed away from the new clothes.

Untying the drawstring of my petticoat, I let it fall at my feet as I stepped out.  I was now standing in panties and blouse.  I reached for the hooks on the blouse, undid them and peeled them off - taking care to undo the press buttons on the shoulder.

My new white bra looked great on me.  My breast forms had small protuberances for nipples and their outline was plainly visible on the tips of the bra cups -mmmm!

Now I picked up the black bra.  Taking care to remove all the labels, I unhooked the white bra I was wearing and put on the black bra.  It needed a little adjustment on the shoulder on the straps.  Once I was done, I examined myself in the mirror and I was immensely satisfied.  The tailoring and the fitting was abso-perfect!

Taking it off, I picked up the longline bra.  I placed the breast forms on the bed.  Removing all the labels on this bra, I slipped my arms through the straps and started hooking it upwards from the lowest hook.  As I reached up, I stopped, picked up the breast forms and placed them inside the cups - taking care to position them correctly.  And then I continued the hooking.

Once done, I stood in front of the mirror and examined myself.  The bra cinched my waist in a manner that it gave me a near hourglass figure. My panties on my hips appeared positively womanly.  And all the hair that I had removed helped too.

Clad in the long line bra and panties.  I reached for the salwaar of the first set. Pulling over my hips, I realised that a Salwaar is one of the most comfortable garments to wear.  Unlike all the tight trousers that constrain us males, the salwaar is effective in covering a woman completely in the most aesthetic manner without compromising on the comfort.

Next I picked up its corresponding Khameez and unfastened its shoulder hooks. I slipped the Khameez over my head and pulled it down over my breasts and over my hips.  Reaching out to the shoulder, I re-fastened the hooks and picked up the matching dupatta.

Placing the  dupatta demurely over both my breasts, I examined myself in the mirror.  I was amazed.

I looked gorgeous.  The man I was would love the woman I had become!

I was very tempted to continue as female on my flight to Mangalore, but I did not want to risk it.

Now I took off these clothes and tried the second Salwaar Khameez.  That too made me look great.  While the first was for slightly less formal occasions, this second one was ultra-formal.

In this dress, I started doing all the womanly chores that I had to do.  I hefted the suitcase on to the bed and placed all my new purchases and my other clothes neatly into the bag - taking care to separate the used and the unused. As I was going to change into my male attire, I kept that set outside the bag.

Finally, I took off the khameez and folded it along the creases which had still not become obliterated. I did the same for the Salwaar as well.  I took off my wig and folded it properly.  I unhooked the bra and pull out the breast forms from its cups.  And finally I pulled down my panties.  The loin cloth was still in place.  I took that off too.  My jewels were finally free and dangling in their male glory!  Which reminds me - I had taken off my jewellery earlier before starting the trials in my room

Now I sat to remove my make up.  The wig was already off.  I took off my lashes, then around the eyes, the lips and then finally the face.  Now, I removed the nail polish.  I had a long shower taking care that every pore of my face was cleared of any makeup and my face was just my face with NOTHING on it.

Drying myself, I wore my briefs, vest and other male articles of clothes.  I combed my hair and used a male deodorant.

Now I set to pack all my things.  Everything was feminine.  Bras, panties, blouses, saree petticoats, sarees, a wig, bangles, necklaces, earrings even footwear!  The only male articles were my shaving set and the clothes that I was wearing!

Since my room was completely paid for, I picked up my luggage and briskly walked out through the reception.  No one stopped me. I hailed a taxi that typically wait in hotel foyers and asked to be taken to the airport.  From the airport, I called up the hotel and speaking in my feminine voice informed them that I had left the hotel and that they can now set about cleaning it.  I confirmed that the room was fully paid for - there were no incidentals except for the breakfast which was paid by my office on phone during the day.

I had an uneventful flight back to Mangalore.  Our driver was waiting and we went home without a word.  My wife was waiting to have dinner and eager to hear about my adventures.

After dinner, we watched TV for a few minutes and then retired to our bedroom where I narrated all the details to my wife.

Feeling really tired, I fell fast asleep almost immediately after switching off the lights.

The next morning, I woke up refreshed and was having breakfast when I was told that there was a long distance call from Bombay.

In my male voice I said, "Hello, this is Radha."

A female voice at the other end said, "Oh Hello, I wanted to speak to Miss Radha - your sister."

"One minute" I said and told my wife I was going to take the call from the bedroom.  I also suggested that she should listen in on a parallel line but not make a sound and winked.

Puzzled, she got up as I went to our bedroom.  I picked up the receiver and in a feminine voice, I said, "This is Radha. Who's calling?"

"Radha this Shobha - remember from Bandra in Bombay yesterday at the store?" she asked.

"Oh of course!" I answered in my feminine voice.  "How are you?"

"Fine" she said. "Listen, this call is getting charged by the second, I just want to tell you that my first trip to Mangalore is scheduled for this coming weekend!  And I wanted to meet  you and your brother and his wife."

"Sure!" I responded.  "We insist that you should stay with us!"

"Not for the entire trip but I will definitely spend a day with you all and you can feed me all the Mangalorean delicacies."  She answered.

"Definitely.  You have our home number too now. Call me with details as soon as you have them.  I am available at this time of the day and after 730 pm in the evening.  I am so excited!" I gushed.

"Bye then.  Expect a call from me in a couple of days"  She said and we hung up.

My wife rushed to the bedroom and asked me, "How will you manage that?"

"I have a plan." I told her.

Chapter 20

The visit

Chapter 18 - Using my purchases

Chapter 18


Using my new purchases


I adjusted my saree to fully cover my chest and started walking back towards Linking Road which seemed to have become more crowded than it was a few minutes earlier. Maneuvering between fast moving bodies, I reached the road and hailed an autorickshaw.

“Where to, Madam?” the driver asked.

“I am looking to buy some Salwaar Khameezes, would you know where I can find a good collection?” I asked.

“Madam, the best place would be Elco Arcade.” He said.

“Take me there.” I told him.

Within no time, we reached Elco Arcade. The crowd here seemed to be even more. Ordinarily, I would have been very nervous about being dressed as a woman in such a big crowd, but buoyed by my success in “She”, I felt very confident.

As I got out of the autorickshaw, my petticoat and saree slipped up my ankle a little and exposed my shin. I was thankful to have done my legs in preparation for this visit.

Making my way through the many Salwaar Khameezes hung out on innumerable wire mannequins in the passage, I made my way into one of the few air-conditioned stores there. The number of outfits displayed there were fewer but were more elegant and expensive in appearance.

I was grateful for the air-conditioning and as I stepped into the store, someone inside said, “Welcome Madam.”

Knowing the habit of women in general, I simply said, “Thank you” and looked at Salwaar Khameez ensembles around me. Each of them was exquisitely chosen. I liked a few and asked to see them.

The salesgirl was only too glad to oblige. She took out some five or six of the sets and placed them on the glass topped shelf. I looked each of them.

I liked a couple of them and asked if there was a trial-room where I could try them out. She said, “ Yes, but someone is using it right now. If you can wait for a couple of minutes.”

The wait was not too long. I heard the click on the door and from inside emerged an exquisitely good looking lady. She was tall and seemed to be in her mid-fifties. Her hair was dyed black but her face did not obviously reveal her age. Only the slightest of hint of jowls gave a clue to her real age. Obviously frequent facial massages had helped.

As she walked out, our eyes met and she greeted me.

I responded with a “hello” and smiled at her. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.” she said as an apology.

“It wasn’t too long.” I assured her.

“That’s a beautiful saree.” She said to me. I thanked her.

Her face seemed strangely familiar. I knew I had seen her someplace but could not quite place her exactly.

A sales assistant from the store hung the three hangers on a hook on the door inside the enclosed space which went for a “trial-room”.

I stepped in and closed the door. The bolt on the door was a bit of a challenge. The door needed to be pulled in hard before the bolt could be locked. Being a man, I did that with some difficulty but perhaps not as much as a woman would possibly feel.

I hung up my purse and the bag of lingerie on one of the hooks. Now I faced a real challenge. Being a man, I was unfamiliar with the tricks that women used to maneuver in small rooms and still successfully try out clothes.

Once again, I unpinned my saree pallu from my blouse. Tucking in the saree on my petticoat, I unhooked my blouse and took it off and hung it on the wall hook. Selecting one of the chosen ensembles, I removed the khameez off the hook and slipped it over my head.

Carefully so as to not dislodge my wig or my jewellery, I pulled down the garment and pressed it in place over my saree which was now completely below my waist.

Examining myself in the mirror, I liked what I saw. Obviously the tailor had taken great pains to ensure that the design that resulted from the fabric presented the khameez in the best possible way. I decided to buy that set.

Pulling off the khameez over my head, I selected the next ensemble. This was one that was stitched slightly differently. It was slightly tighter than the previous one. But the striped pattern on the outfit accentuated my non-existent hips in a very subtle way. Perhaps because I was wearing the khameez on top of my saree and petticoat my hips were a little larger than my real size. But the outfit contributed significantly to that and made them look even larger. I liked this outfit as well and decided to buy it too.

Two outfits and some lingerie was more than what I had bought in the entire previous year so I decided to skip the third one. I now picked up my blouse that I had earlier hung out on the hook. My eyes fell on the plastic bag from “She” Boutique that was hung on a hook next to the blouse.

I remembered the feel of the new bra in the trial-room in “She” and was just dying to wear the new bra. Reaching behind my back, I unhooked that bra that I was wearing. Removing the breast forms from the cups, I hung the bra on the hook. From inside the “She” bag, I selected one of the two white bras I had just purchased.

Placing the breast forms inside the cups, I slipped the bra up my arms and hooked it on my back. The forms needed slight adjustment inside the cups. I reached for the shoulder straps and adjusted them so that the bra felt comfortable. I reached for my blouse and slipped it up my arms, taking care to not snag the sleeve on my bangles.

As I adjusted the lower hem of the blouse on my abdomen, I could not help noticing that the bra made my “breasts” appear very pointed. As a man, I like that in women. And as a man, I liked it in the woman I had become.

I quickly hooked up my blouse and removed the pallu of my saree that I had tucked into the waist band of my petticoat. I decided that I was going to tease the world a little. I adjusted the pallu of the saree on my right breast so that the edge was positioned right on the nipple. And with a bra that had pointed cups, it looked rather “tit”illating!

After putting the bra which I had just taken off into the box from which the new bra was taken, I picked up my purse, the bag from “She” Boutique and the two dresses which I had chosen. Unlocking the door was a bit of a challenge because it was so tight. The other lady who had previously used the trial-room was still there.

She was explaining to the store owner that he had to do something about the bolt there. Suddenly she turned to me and said, “Did you too find it difficult to unbolt the door?”

Surprised, I replied, “yes.. it was tight.”

“See” she said as she turned back to the store owner. “It is a little tight.”

“I don’t understand how that is possible. When I use it, it does not seem tight.” He pleaded.

“You don’t get it do you?” She said. “For you, there must be some technique of pulling the door in a particular way and the bolt then yields. For us, who are not familiar with the way in which the door is to be pulled and especially because we are ladies and with much less strength, it is quite tough.. and since the space inside is so little, it is unnerving to imagine the prospect of being locked in such narrow surroundings for a long period!”

Turning to me, she said, “I don’t know why he cannot understand.. I guess it is part of being male!” I joined her laughter.

I was loving every moment of this. Here I was - a genetic male, dressed as a woman, speaking with a genetic female as a woman and laughing at males in general!

“I have seen you somewhere.” I said to the lady who was talking to me.

“Maybe. I am a little well known that way. I am Shobha Khilachand.” She said and held her hand out.

“Ah!” I said. “No wonder you looked familiar!”

I had seen pictures of Shobha Khilachand in many magazines. As the founder-editor of India’s foremost Film Gossip magazine, her efforts at being the best, spawned off an entire industry of gossip reporting. And although there were so many imitators, the original was still my personal favorite.

“What do you do nowadays? Do you still edit any magazines?” I asked her.

“I freelance – a column here and write up there. I am more or less a master or if you wish, mistress of my own time.” She replied.

“You might find something very interesting to write about if you contact my brother in Mangalore.” I told her. “Right now he is out of station on some private work. But next time you come to Mangalore, do call him up and tell him I asked you. I am due to return to Mangalore tomorrow morning and I will tell him that you might call up.”

“Why do you think that he may be interesting to write about?” she was curious.

“I am not going to share my and his little secret right now. You can decide if you are intrigued and interested enough and then if you do contact him, then I assure you, you will definitely feel like writing about him.” I told her.

“You make it seem so mysterious. Let me see if I have any reason to come to Mangalore. As of now, I am not planning to come there anyway. Could you give me his contact details?” she asked.

I rummaged through my purse and found my “Radha Baliga” business card. “By the way, I am Radha Baliga.” I introduced myself as I handed over my own business card. Although the business card was in the name of “Radha Baliga”, it did show my correct designation.

When she saw my designation as CEO of our company, she said, “I did not know that the most popular brand of Bidis had a woman at the helm. I must say - I am impressed.”

“Yes. Bidi making has been in our family for many generations. Our father built up our company after he took over the mantle after our grandfather’s retirement. I expect Radha will take up the mantle once Papa decides to retire.” I said.

“Radha? You are Radha. Are you going to take up the mantle and not your brother? That will be a big first.” She said.

“Oh! I am sorry. I am Radha the daughter of our parents. Since Radhakrishna is so long, we call my elder brother as Radha. In a way it is appropriate I guess.” I added a little mysteriously.

“And why is that?” She asked.

“There you go again.” I teased her. “Come to Mangalore and you will find out that too – as to why it is appropriate in a way to call my brother as ‘Radha’”.

“Ok. Now you have whetted my appetite. I must plan a trip to Mangalore then. Anyway, I have heard it is a beautiful country there…?” She said somewhat interrogatively.

“Yes. Very beautiful. Verdant countryside. Lot of rice fields, clean air, bright sunshine and very friendly people. Have you had an opportunity to taste Mangalore food?” I asked her.

“I might have. Do you know of any particular restaurant where you get Mangalore food, here in Bombay? What about the ‘Kamat’ chain?” she asked.

Kamat is a very well known chain of hotels in India and in places like the Middle East, UK and the US. The entire chain serves only Vegetarian food and is extremely popular as a fast food chain for Indian food.

“ ‘Kamat’ chain unfortunately serves a mix of what goes under the label of South Indian Food.” I said. “There are one or two places which I have heard of. One is a place called ‘Circle Restaurant’ in an area known as King’s Circle.”

“I know where King’s Circle is.” She said.

“Another is a place called ‘Gopalashram’ in Fort.” I said. On many occasions on my visits to Bombay in the past, I had visited both these places when I had felt like eating home-like Mangalore Food.

“I have one friend who is a Mangalorean but married to a Maharashtrian – Vimla Patil. She used to edit ‘Femina’ magazine.” She said.

I had been reading ‘Femina’ on the flight to Bombay.

“She might know of a good place to eat genuine Mangalorean food.” I suggested.

“Yes she might know.” She agreed.

“Well let me see if I do make it to Mangalore anytime soon, I will surely call your brother up. And yes, I would love to meet you once again. Even if the story with your brother does not work out to anything big, I will still love to meet you once again. You live in Mangalore too, right?” She asked.

“Yes. And when you meet my brother, you will definitely not be able to avoid meeting me too!” I said. “We are almost one and the same person.”

Paying for the two salwaar khameez sets, I stepped out of the store.

Chapter 19



Table of contents

Chapter 17 - Purchasing Lingerie

Chapter 17


Purchasing Lingerie


I had reached the point of no return. As I stepped through the door, a lady sales girl who was attending another customer – an expecting mother – said in Hindi, “Welcome madam. What would you like to have today?”

A trifle too softly, I said, “Brassiere.”

“Oh. Brassieres are all upstairs.” She responded, rather loudly I thought. Then it struck me, we were in a Lingerie Shop after all. If I had not come to buy brassieres, what had I come to buy, Potato Chips? Shaken out of my reverie, I heard her say to another male assistant, “Escort Madam upstairs.”

No sooner had she said that, the assistant glided out from behind the counter and motioned me to follow him up. Somewhere between stacks of boxes of bras, panties, girdles, slips, camisoles and the like, was a staircase with steps leading up. With the practiced confidence of someone who had done this a million times before, the assistant ran up the stairs. I followed demurely.

Here another sales girl was waiting. There were no other customers. Leaving us alone there, the assistant ran down to where he had come from.

“Yes madam, what style would you like?” She asked.

I said, “36C in cotton with pointed cups.”

“Madam, do you have any particular brand in mind?” she asked.

“Maidenform, Empress Style.” I responded.

“Yes we have that. Which color?” she asked.

“Two white and one black.” I said.

Reaching out behind her, she picked out two cardboard boxes with a green printing and then a third which was slightly below the first two. Pulling out the bras from inside, one by one, she opened them out with the cups pointing upwards like two mountains, the back straps spread out. “This one, madam.” She asked.

“Yes” I said.

I examined the three bras, closely. “Beautiful” I said to myself. The bras had concentric circles around the tip of each cup and I realized that when I wore it would look really lovely. I knew that is what I wanted.

Resisting the urge to caress them and as a matter of confirmation, I asked, “Are you sure that this is the size I need?”

“Madam, Try them on. The trial room is here.” She motioned to a corner.

A small partitioned area offered the privacy needed to make it into a Trial room. I told here I want to buy a “longline bra”. She said she did not understand.

I told her that I was looking for a bra whose bottom extended to the waist giving a good tummy flattening capability. This time she understood. Stepping to a different shelf, she picked out two longline bras both again in 36C one black and one white. The Black opened on the back while the white was front opening.

I have a marked preference for back opening bras, so I told her that I wanted that. She hesitated. I asked her what the matter was.

She said, “Madam, many ladies find back opening for longline bras difficult to maneuver. I would suggest the front opening one. Nevertheless, take both to the trial room, try both of them and you can choose whichever you like.”

Picking up both the longline and the three regular bras, I stepped into the trial room. This was a first for me. I was in a Lingerie shop, dressed as a woman, buying lingerie for myself. And everyone was treating me like a lady!

In the trial room there were a couple of hooks on the wall. On one of them, I hung my purse. I hung the bras on a second hook.

I took my pallu off my shoulder and tucked it in my waist to prevent my tripping and falling. I unhooked the blouse and took it off. Reaching behind, I unfastened my bra. Taking care to see that my breast forms did not pop out and fall on the floor, I peeled off my bra, holding the breast forms in my palms. Placing my blouse, bra and forms on one of the boxes inside the trial room, I reached for one of the bras on the hook. Deftly, I slipped each arm by turn and reached behind me and hooked the bra. Reaching for the forms, I placed them inside each cup. I tightened the shoulder strap and looked at myself in the mirror. The bra fit me like a second skin. My breasts appeared very pointed and as a man, I liked my own looks.

Reluctantly, I unhooked the bra and by turns I tried the other regular bras. Each fit me perfectly. Now I gave my attention to the black longline bra that opened on the back. Slipping my arms into them, I realized that it was very difficult to reach behind and hook all the 7 hooks correctly. The sales girl was right. I took it off and picked up the white Longline which opened in the front. This was infinitely easy. In fact it was too easy. I easily hooked all the hooks – they were 12 in number. I as hooked the lower ones, I realized that the bra was exerting increasing pressure on my tummy and it was appearing flatter and flatter. In comparison, my hips seemed to jut outward more as my tummy got more compressed and my waist appeared slimmer.

“This was amazing!” I thought. My silhouette appeared a perfect hourglass. Deciding to buy one longline and all three of the regular bras, I once again wore my own bra with my breast forms inside them. I wore the blouse, replaced the pallu and after giving one last look in the mirror, I unlatched the door.

Taking my purse with me, I returned all 5 bras to the sales girl. She asked, “Which did you like, Madam?”

I told her to pack all of them except the back opening longline. She said, “Very good, Madam. Almost everyone who first chose a back opening longline eventually end up not buying it. Our only sales of such bras are to women who don’t try it and refuse our advice and to men who buy it for their wives.”

“What else would you like madam? We have not only these kind of Daily wear bras but also some special occasion bras like bridal wear. Lacy ones, very small bras but in large sizes which cover only the most essential parts. We have panties also. Lacy ones and also larger daily wear in darker colors which you can use with stayfrees. We have thongs also.” She added.

I did not plan to buy such clothes, so I thanked her and told her that was all.

She prepared the bill and after paying cash downstairs, I left the store, very pleased with my purchases.

Chapter 18



Table of contents

Chapter 16 - After Lunch

Chapter 16


After Lunch


The ride to the hotel took just a few minutes. I collected the key to my room and went straight up. As I entered the room and locked the door, I was reminded of the advertisement of “She” Lingerie Boutique. I have always wanted to try out bras and panties in a lingerie store because that to me was the ultimate acceptance of me as a woman.

The Zari Kanjeevaram which I had worn to the lunch was a wee bit too ostentatious and “special-occasion”. So I decided to change.

I removed the pin which pinned my Saree Pallu to my blouse and kept it in place. In just a blouse and petticoat, I sat down to fold the saree. Being a Kanjeevaram which was being worn for the almost the first time, the creases where the saree was ironed and stored in the shelf were still quite obvious. I got the correct folds on my second attempt – not being accustomed to doing this.

I was wondering which saree to choose when an idea struck me – why not use the saree which the B’s had gifted me? After all since it was a saree which had been used in the past, it would have the beading done and fall attached.

Tearing open the package, I was surprised that there were a number of other things in the packet besides the saree. From within the folds of the saree, a blouse fell out. It turned out to be Mrs. B’s old blouse. Also included were a few bangles, a ring , a necklace and a packet of bindis – all of which matched the color of the saree.

Reaching out to the telephone, I dialed the residential number of the B’s that I had from my private collection. One of the servants picked up the phone. After identifying myself, I asked to talk to Mrs. B. Within a few seconds, Mrs B was on the line.

“Well, first and foremost thank you for a wonderful lunch today and the lovely gift.” I started.

“You are very welcome. Did you open the package?” Mrs B asked.

“Yes, very thoughtful on your part to include the jewellery, but why the blouse? I am not even sure I will fit into one of your blouses. You are so small compared to me.” I said.

“Actually, the blouse was made for my sister-in-law, Mola – ‘Mit’s brother ‘Jit’s wife. She is a lot bigger made than I am. I thought you might want to wear it on this trip because I noticed how thrilled you looked when you wore it here!” She said.

“Nothing escapes you, does it!” I joked. “Let me try it and let you know, ok? Are you going to be available at home after say, some 15 minutes or so?” I asked.

“We don’t plan to go out right now. In the evening we will be going out for a couple of hours to visit Anand Bakshi-ji in Bandra. We heard he is not keeping too well.” She told me.

“Ok then. I will call you after a short while.” I said and hung up after a polite and short farewell.

I reached out to each of my shoulders and unclipped the press-button that kept my bra under the blouse. Carefully I unhooked the blouse – the blouse opened in the front. Peeling off the blouse, pulled out my arms from the sleeves. Clad in only my black bra and black petticoat, I folded the blouse carefully. Like the saree, being a new blouse, the original creases were still evident. Using them as my guide, I folded the blouse accurately and placed it within the folds of the saree.

Now picking up the blouse which Mrs B had sent me, I raised my hands above my head and let the sleeve slip past my wrist. The blouse got entangled in the bangles I was wearing. I took off the blouse, removed my bangles and once again raised my arms. This time the blouse slipped smoothly down my bare forearms. Adjusting the shoulder, I hooked up the blouse using the hooks that are normally found there. The Blouse was a perfect fit. In fact it was more comfortable than my own blouse because of some special kind of construction of the underarms. In this blouse I could actually keep my hand on my shoulders and trace a circle in space with my elbows.

Curious, I removed the blouse and compared it with one of my other blouses and found that the blouse had an extra piece of cloth under the underarms which was absent in the blouse I had had stitched in Mangalore. I made a mental note to give this blouse as a sample to my tailor.

I called up the B household again and asked to talk to Mrs B.

She came on the line and I told her that I just loved the saree. She was very pleased. I asked her if they had any plans after their visit to the Anand Bakshi household. She replied that they had none.

"May I invite both of you for a light snack at the Searock at about 6 pm today then?" I asked.

"Just a minute, let me ask 'Mit." she said.

She was back in less than a minute and said, "Nothing would give us more pleasure. But I have one request to make."

"Yes?" I asked.

"I would like you to wear the saree I just gifted you. Use the blouse I gave you." She said.

I replied with a Hindi saying which literally translated meant "You took words out of my mouth". Colloquially it meant that I was planning to do that and we seemed to be of the same mind.

"I will eagerly be looking forward to seeing you fully dressed up in that saree." She said as we ended the conversation.

Returning to my dressing up, I realized that my black bra under a light yellow blouse would look quite out of place. I unhooked my bra. One of the things that my wife had taught me was that women never wore their undergarments once they removed them. Placing the breast forms on the bed, I picked up the bra. I went to the washbasin and quickly washed it and hung it out to dry on the shower rod. I was amazed at how just like a woman, I was behaving although my flat chest gave every indication of my being a man. The long hair and the made up face was a different proposition altogether.

From my suitcase, I selected a white bra and hooked it on my back. Placing the breast forms in the cups, I adjusted them so that they appeared just like a woman’s breasts outside the bra.

For the third time, I raised my hands and wore the blouse. This time I hooked the shoulder straps under the shoulder and hooked the blouse. Going to the mirror in the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror and admired myself. Even a woman would feel proud of this “woman”. The sight of my bra under the light yellow semi transparent blouse was starting to excite me. I felt a stirring in my loins and realized I needed to wank off.

I untied my black saree petticoat and let it fall at my feet. The waist got snagged at my crotch for just a second notwithstanding the restraints placed on my manhood by the tight loin-cloth. Quickly, I pulled down my panties and released myself from under the loin cloth, I gave myself a quick wank in the wash basin. I looked quite novel – a perfect specimen of a woman but wanking off her large, excited penis in the wash basin!

Once done, I re-wore my loin cloth and pulled up my panties. A black petticoat under a yellow saree was not appropriate. Picking up the petticoat, which lay at my feet, I went to the room, folding it as I walked. The Loin cloth did a good job of keeping “me” in place and the contours of the panties were just like a woman’s.

Selecting the white petticoat which I had included for my other saree, I pulled it down my head. The petticoat snagged on my breasts as it usually does, but I pulled it down. Adjusting it to be properly placed just above the edge of my panties, I tied the drawstring. Next I pressed the petticoat down my thighs right upto the ankles so that the petticoat was now smoothed. Picking the saree, I wore it – it felt so soft on my hairless back and neck. My pleats were neatly tucked in and the pallu was properly adjusted.

Picking up each of the bangles, I slipped them on my right hand. I slipped the ring on my right hand. Mrs B had thoughtfully included a ring which was split so it was no problem to slip it on my ring finger. Selecting a round bindi in green, I pasted it smack in the middle of my forehead after removing the earlier one.

Having done that, I examined myself closely in the mirror. As a man, I realized why Mr B had chosen that color and that texture. It was indeed extremely feminine to touch and feel.

I picked up the newspaper and opened to the page where I had seen the “She” boutique ad in the morning. I made a note of the address and got ready to leave.

I gave a quick look around the room to see if nothing was amiss. The saree, petticoat and blouse, which I had just stripped off, lay neatly folded on the bed. My black bra was hung to dry on the shower curtain rod. I searched through my suitcase to take some money. I could not possibly pay with my credit card as it was in my male name. I picked up my purse and the keys to the room.

I reached the lobby within no time and as I handed the keys to the reception, asked for a taxi to be summoned. Stepping into the cab, I mentally remembered the address and said, ”Linking Road”.

“Where on Linking Road”, the cabbie asked. “Some store known as ‘Uncle’s Shop. Do you know where?” I asked. The cabbie knew.

In a few minutes, we were stopping right in front of the store known as Uncle’s Shop. As I prepared to cross the road, I noticed that “She Boutique” was in the same building, towards the left. The entrance was reachable through a passage which had a small store selling small trinkets like hairbands, earrings and the like. Crossing the road, I made my way through the mass of bodies which are typical on any given day at Linking road in the afternoon.

As I saw the doors to the boutique, for just a smallest moment, I hesitated. However confident I felt, I was still a man in a women’s clothes walking into a lingerie boutique, expecting to be taken for a woman and treated like one. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped in.

Chapter 17

Table of Contents

Chapter 15 - Dinner with the First Family of Bollywood

Chapter 15


Lunch


The man whose image made millions of Indian hearts go aflutter was waiting for me at the head of the steps. He had not changed much from our previous meeting in Zurich more than 6 weeks before.

“Hello” I greeted him in a feminine voice.

“Hello Radha. How are you?” he responded.

“I am fine. And you?” I replied.

“I am fine too.” He said. “Come on in.” Ever the gentleman, he held out his hand.

“Thank you.” I said and holding his hand, walked in.

Very softly, he said, “You look gorgeous, Radha.”

“Thank you.” I blushed.

Even as we were walking into a large seating area, Mrs B joined us and greeted us.

After formally introducing Mrs B to me, I was urged to sit next to her. As an ice breaker, she said to me, “You know if ‘Mit had not told me about you, I would never believe that you are really a man! You look so utterly feminine!”

“I know. I have been told this so many times in the past. But this time it is a big challenge! Because I had to fly as a woman!” I told her.

“Oh why did you need to do that?” She asked.

“Well, you know I could not afford to put your jewelry in the checked in baggage for fear of it getting lost. I had to wear it on the flight so that the security X-rays did not beep suspiciously.” I explained.

“Yes, but the danger of being robbed was always present isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes. For one, I was lucky not to be robbed. For two, no one knew that I could give any robber, a good run for his money as I could either run after him or even beat him up!” I laughed both my hosts joined me laughing.

“Oh, By the way, the children, Abhi and Shwet are joining us for the lunch but both don’t know your little secret!” B said.

“It is better that way, I suppose. The lesser the number of people who know about my secret, the better for all concerned.” I said.

Suddenly, Mrs B said, “ How dumb of me! Here I am sitting and chattering with you and I have not even offered you a glass of water! Ram deen!” she shouted.

A man servant in a pajama appeared immediately. “Yes Madam.”

“Hadn’t I told you that I was expecting guests? Bring some water quickly and ..” turning to me Mrs B asked, “what would you like to have for starters? Some Fresh lime juice on this hot afternoon, perhaps?” she suggested.

“That would be nice.” I responded.

The servant left and almost within no time brought 3 glasses of water, and 2 glasses of Fresh Lime Juice. “Why two glasses? Aren’t both of you giving me company?” I asked looking from one to the other.

“Actually, ‘Mit does not drink anything except water, 1 hour or less before a meal. Doctor’s advice for his Myasthenia Gravis.” Mrs B said by way of explanation.

“Yes”, pipped in Mr B. “I have tried countless doctors and none has been able to cure it. Someone suggested an Ayurvedic Doctor down in Kerala in some place whose name starts with a K and which I cannot pronounce! His medicine seems to give me some relief but then there are some restrictions on the diet. Well, I guess, if he can give me relief, then the restrictions are worth subjecting oneself to!” he sighed.

“Yes”, I agreed.

A minute of silence followed. We had reached a sort of a dead end.

Then Mrs B asked, “But tell me this Radha – How did you end up being so good at impersonating a woman? After all, as a woman myself, I know how difficult it is to prepare myself before I present myself to the outside world.”

“Yes.” I agreed. “I started acting in female roles when I was in school and if I may so myself, was a great success in my very first attempt when I played Shakuntala.” I said.

“During College days I was instrumental in playing a prank which required me to dress up. I was so convincing, that I stayed in the girls’ hostel for one night!” I continued.

“Wow!” said Mrs B. “And looking at you now, I can believe that!” she added.

“Wait a minute. Come inside with me.” She said and holding my hand, led me into one of the passages which led from the main living room.

“Hey! What about me?” asked Mr B in mock dismay.

“No. This is none of your business! This is between us, ladies.” Said Mrs B adding further to my curiosity. Had she forgotten that I was really a man dressed up as a woman? I wondered.

Entering into what seemed to be the master bedroom, Mrs B quickly shut the door. Then she held my hand and made me sit on the bed.

“Now. I want you to tell me how you prepared yourself for this. Tell me everything!” She said.

“Well, of course the first requirement is removing all my hair except on the head.” I started.

“Yes. Then?”

“My wife Vidhya is very co-operative that way. She helped me choose and purchase my clothes.” I continued.

“Her taste is good!” responded Mrs B. “Look at this gorgeous green – it matches your complexion so nicely!”

“I should tell Vidhya that – she will be very pleased!” I said, smiling. “Well, to continue. We have a tailor in Mangalore who besides our immediate family and you, knows my little secret. But you know, we are so well connected in Mangalore, he does not dare open his mouth. Moreover, what does he care, so long as he gets paid for whatever he stitches!” I laughed.

Mrs B agreed. She offered to show me some of her good sarees and I agreed. One of her sarees was a yellow chiffon, a little transparent and not in keeping with the image that Mrs B had shown the world. It turned out that it was one of the very first sarees that her husband had purchased for her. That saree also happened to be the one in which Mr B got quite turned on!

Mrs B offered the saree for me to try on. “Are you sure?” I asked. She said, “Look if you were a real woman, I would have offered you the saree anyway. But then you are the image of a real woman so if you feel like trying it, go ahead – I am fine with it” she said.

“Ok. But you know, the blouse does not match but it contrasts nicely.” I said. “Yes and that is precisely why I offered it to you to try!” said Mrs B.

“Would you like me to step out, my dear?” Mrs B asked me.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind either way” I said.

“Ok then. Don’t mind but I would like to watch.” she said.

Unpinning my pallu from the back of my blouse, I peeled off the saree and pulled it out from where I had tucked it in into my petticoat. Luckily the loin cloth was doing a good job of restraining me, otherwise I would have been in real trouble!

After determining which was the right side, I quickly proceeded to wear the saree. Deftly measuring out the pleats on both the shoulder and the front, I was done within a couple of minutes.

“Wow!” said Mrs B admiringly. “You are an expert at wearing a saree! And look at you – your pleats are better than the ones I get. Wait a minute!” she said and hurried out.

In less than a minute, Mrs B came back with Mr B who looked at me with surprise. “Wow!” he said rather unoriginally. “Radha looks so good in it!”

“You know ‘Mit? I was thinking of gifting this saree to Radha as a special gift! I know you had given me the saree as a special occasion saree and I have many pleasant memories associated with it. But, Radha has been a truer friend to us than perhaps even those who have claimed their friendship for over twenty five years. So as a special gift, I want to give her this saree. Is it ok, darling?” Mrs B asked.

“I think it is an excellent idea.” agreed Mr B.

“So Radha! The saree is yours. I know that you can buy much better sarees than this but this saree has a special meaning for both of us and we are gifting it to you as a token of our love for you. Hope you like it and will accept it.” Mrs B said.

“I love it and in my wardrobe, it will have a special place. Now, can I change back, please?” I asked.

“Sure” said both Mrs and Mr B and left the room.

The saree really felt very nice. I have always had a soft corner for chiffons and this one was made one of the finest chiffon material I had ever come across. Quickly removing my saree, I once again wore my Kanjeevaram. I had just finished pinning my pallu on my blouse when I heard a knock on the door.

“One minute” I called and opened the door.

“Leave the saree as it is, Radha. The servants will fold it and give it to you. Come let us have lunch. The children have arrived too.” Said Mrs B to me.

Both Mrs B and I went to the Dining Room. Although there was nothing filmy about the house, it however spoke of a lot of class. Every item of decoration was not only chosen with care but had the stamp of sophistication. The Grandfather clock in the Main Room was a genuine antique. While the Cobalt Blue Bowl was an original Queen Silvia Commemorative Vase handmade in Skansen, Stockholm. Each little touch, personal, each nuance emitting a subtle, subliminal signal.

I was broken out of my reverie by the voice of Mrs B. “This way, Radha.” Mrs B’s voice finally reached me.

In front of me was a perfectly decorated Dining Table with five places. As the head of the family, Mr B was sitting at the head of the table. I found myself standing near the chair to his left. Opposite me was Mrs B’s seat.

Just as I was about to sit in the chair, Mrs B said, ”Radha, I want to introduce you to our children.” So saying she gestured to a teenaged young man, who had stood shyly on one side. He smiled at me, “Hello, I am Abhishek” he said and bent to touch my feet. Instinctively, I said, “May you live long!” A young girl now stepped forward and said, “Namaste, Auntie-ji, I am Shweta.” She too bent down and touched my feet. To her too, I said, “May you live long!”

I was very touched. Such well behaved children. Quite unlike what I had read about kids in the filmi families in so many film magazines!

I sat down and as a matter of conversation, asked them, “Do you go to school?”

“Yes” they answered politely and added “Bombay Scottish Orphanage.” I had heard of that school as one of the better schools in Bombay.

We continued the idle conversation during the meal. The food was superb. Being Kayasth, my hosts were vegetarians. We had some Fritters of Onion, Paneer and Potatoes as Appetizers. This was followed by a semi-transparent green pea soup. The first course was Rotis with a Sabzi of Cauliflower. This was followed by Rice and in deference to my South Indian Origins, Sambhar and Rasam with fried Papads – South Indian style. Finally a dessert of the richest Gajar Ka Halwa – turned out that Gajar Ka Halwa is Mr B’s particular favorite.

I joked that the proverbial “Gajar Ka Halwa that you love and which I cooked with my very own hands” dialog in so many Hindi movies was at the very least half true – the part of “cooked with my very own hands” being the fictional part!

After such a sumptuous lunch, I was finding it rather difficult to keep my eyes open. So I opted to have tea.

It was nearly half past two. Having spent a pleasant time at the B residence, I decide to initiate my departure. With the usual, “you must come home when you are in Mangalore” kind of invitation, I took leave. A packet containing the gift of yellow chiffon saree was handed to me. My taxi had been summoned inside the compound by then. I boarded the taxi and waved the first family of Indian Filmdom farewell as the taxi moved out of the compound

Chapter 16

Table of Contents

Chapter 14 - Meeting the Big B

Chapter 14


Meeting the Big B


The gentle but incessant ringing of a telephone penetrated my sleep so very gently. It was an unfamiliar ring – not the sound of my office telephone which was loud and jarring – no, this was different, soothing almost! Somehow, I reached out to where the sound was coming and groggily said, “Hello!”

“Good morning Sir!” a male voice said at the other end. “This is the wake up call which was set for 7:30 am.”

“Thank you.” I said and disconnected.

It was just an instant later that I realized that I had spoken to the receptionist all the time in a male voice! A little bit of quick thinking made the innocent Radha Baliga a customer of a gigolo who had apparently answered the phone!

I sat up in the bed and wiped my eyes. My face felt surprisingly smooth. I realized that the layers of make up on my face had had a smoothening effect on it.

Getting up slowly, I made my way to the bathroom. I found that my smalls had dried up completely. After quickly going through the typical morning rituals of brushing my teeth and the 3 Sh’s (Shit, Shave and Shower), I stepped out of the bathroom with just a bath towel around my middle. It was getting close to 15 minutes past 8 o’clock. I quickly opened my suitcase and laid out my clothes for the day.

I was going to have lunch with the Big B and I had brought along a specially chosen Kanjeevaram Saree for the purpose. The saree was Brown colored with an elaborate border on it. It did not however have any zari on it. The body was full of small embroidered motifs – all same but symmetrically arranged – what the shop salesman had called as “Butti”. The Pallu was the part which I had liked the most – it was the most elaborate pallu, I had ever come across and I thought that it looked very good inspite of not having any zari on it.

Since the saree and the blouse were dark colored, I selected the black bra which I had washed the previous night as also the red panties. Using my loin cloth to tuck myself in, I slipped into the panties. I hooked the bra and inserted the breast forms into each of the cups.

Now I sat to do my face. Within almost no time, I was done and ready for the wig.

The phone rang and I looked at the bedside clock – it was quarter to nine.

“Hello” I said in my feminine voice.

“Good morning, madam. I was calling to ask about the breakfast. What would you like to have today, madam?” A female voice asked me.

“What do you have on the menu?” I countered.

“We can give you eggs in whatever way you like, South Indian breakfast which has Idli, Dosa, Uttapam or Upma. Also North Indian, which has Aloo Tikki and Bread Pakoras.” She responded. “What would you like to have, madam?”

“Get me a plate of Idlis and a Masala Dosa. Also do you have filter coffee?” I asked.

“Filter Coffee? Yes, Madam. Shall I add a Carafé of Filter Coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, please. How long will it be, before I get the breakfast served?” I asked.

“Fifteen minutes.” She said.

“Make it twenty-five minutes please.” I told her.

“Very good, madam.” She said. “So you would like to have breakfast at 9:10 then.” She added as a measure of confirmation.

“Ye-es.” I said, as I mentally calculated. “Thank you and good-bye.”

“Good bye.” She said and I put the receiver down.

Resuming, I quickly attached my wig and brushed the hair in place.

Now I wore the blouse and then the black Saree petticoat. I unwrapped the saree which already had the fall attached and beading done. It looked gorgeous!

Carefully, I wore the saree and pleated the pallu. I pinned the saree on to my blouse at the back. The pleats were just perfect. The border of the Kanjeevaram saree was exactly aligned with the shoulder stitch of my blouse and the upper border was precisely centered on my right breast.

I looked at myself in the mirror for a while scrutinizing everything and when I was satisfied, I walked towards the telephone. As if on cue, the phone rang. It was the room service lady.

“Good morning madam. Your breakfast is ready. Would you like me to bring it to the room now, please?” A polite woman’s voice asked.

“Yes, please”. I replied in my feminine voice.

“Very good, madam. I should be there in less than a minute. Good Bye.” So saying she hung up.

True to her word, in less than a minute, my breakfast was brought in on a trolley pushed in by a uniformed room service attendant. It was the same lady who had talked to me on the telephone less than a minute before.

“Good Morning Ma’am. Shall I keep it next to that easy chair?” She asked.

“Yes please.’ I said.

And like any woman, she said, “That is a beautiful saree madam.”

“Thank you.” I told her.

She lingered a little, hesitated and then turned to me and said, “Madam, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes..” I replied interrogatively.

“Where did you buy this saree?” she asked.

“Oh! I bought it in Mangalore.” I told her.

“Really, Madam. It is a very beautiful saree.” She repeated.

“Thank you very much.” I said to her.

As she closed the door behind her, I started on my breakfast.

The idlis were hot and steamingly delicious. So was the Masala Dosa. And the coffee at the end was just like home made coffee.

By the time I finished my breakfast, it was about 10:15. I was expected at Mr B’s home between 11:45 and noon. And since I was staying in Juhu, it was a very short ride from the hotel to the home – barely 15 minutes or so.

So I picked up the Femina I had purchased at Bangalore Airport and leafed through that. One of the advertisements caught my eye. It featured a lady in a salwaar khameez, which I thought was gorgeous. I felt like buying one for myself.

Quite surprised at myself, I wondered what was happening to me. Dressed as a woman, I was starting to think like one too – look at a nice outfit and feel like having one made for oneself!

I looked up the address and found out it was on Linking Road. I made a mental note to go there after the lunch.

All of sudden, I remembered that Mr B was expecting my "sister" to fetch the jewellery but here was me, en femme! So I decided that I would phone him up and inform him. I was worried how he would be able to accept a man in women's clothing calling on him socially. Anyway it was too late to change anything.

The phone was answered by a man servant. Soon I was talking to Mr B. I explained (in my male voice) that my sister could not make it but I had personally come to deliver his goods. He was very pleased and said that he looked forward to meeting me again. I hesistated over what to say next and he sensed it immediately.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

I said, "Not exactly." But went on to explain what the situation was.

For a moment he was silent. Then he said, "If you are comfortable about how you are dressed, then I have no problem. But then how do I interact with you? As a man or as a woman?"

"As a woman of course." I replied. "Besides, I think you will do it naturally. Just forget that I am really a man. Ok?"

"Ok. If that is what you prefer. But one thing." he said. "I will have to tell the reality to my wife. If that is ok with you. And by the way, what will be your name?"

"Radha Baliga." I replied and added, "My wife knows all about it. You are the only one outside of the family who now knows about this. And frankly, I think you will enjoy me and so will your wife."

"Ok" he said and we ended the call after exchanging some more pleasantries.

I still had nearly 10 minutes before it was time to leave for Mr B’s home for lunch, so I picked up the newspaper which came in with the breakfast. It was the Indian Express. Being a fast reader, I finished the paper within no time. Having still some more time to kill, I started reading the advertisements. One particular advertisement caught my eye. It was on the fist page next to the paper’s masthead.

‘“She” Boutique’ the ad said. It was a lingerie boutique. It sold bras, panties, corsets and, intriguingly as an afterthought, “Mother and Baby”. The stupidity of the copywriter really amused me. Without reading what the rest of the copy was, he or she simply added “Mother and Baby” which when read together sounded as if mother and baby were also part of the merchandize sold by “She”!

I was now ready for the final stages of preparation for the lunch at Mr B’s home. I wore some of Vidya’s jewelry – bangles, ring, necklace and a clip earring. Mr B’s jewelry which he had given me in Zurich went into another bag which in turn went inside my handbag. Vidya had thoughtfully packed a pair of delicate little silver anklets. I fastened them round each of my ankles and the sound they made as I walked was just pure melody.

I had asked for a taxi to pick me up at 11:30 and it was now about 11:20. I went to the bathroom mirror and gave myself a thorough once-over. While sitting to read the Femina and the newspaper, I found that I had slightly changed the position on the waist where my petticoat had been tied. I fixed that immediately and checked my appearance once again. It was just perfect!

I went to the bed and picked up my handbag – everything was there, money, keys, the bag containing the jewelry – everything.

I picked it up and the phone rang. It was the reception informing me about the taxi. I told them that I would be down in just a minute or so. I also told them to tell Housekeeping to clean up my room.

Ensuring that all my things were in my suitcase and that the suitcase was locked, I picked up my handbag and walked to the door. Walking like a woman was becoming almost second nature to me in this entire trip!

In less than a minute, I was in the reception. The receptionist wished me and pointed in the direction of where the taxi was waiting.

I got into the taxi as the driver held the door open. “Ashirwad Bungalow” I said to the driver.

“Where specifically?” the driver asked.

“Take me to the bungalow itself.” I told him.

Within no time it seemed, we were outside the gates of India’s most famous bungalow. I told the driver that I would be gone for about one and a half to two hours and that he should go and have his lunch if necessary. If he was going out, he should tell the security guard both, before going off and when he returned.

“Very good, madam.” he said.

I stepped out of the taxi and walked to the gate. I had to be careful to be perfectly feminine in my movements. The security guard had already been instructed and when I approached, saluted me smartly and opened a small gate next to the large vehicular gate to let me in. Gesturing me along the path to the bungalow, he shut the gate and clanged the bolt in place.

I had reached the point of no return. I realized that I would be under the scrutiny of all of Mr B’s family members. As these thoughts ran through my mind, I found myself on the steps of the bungalow and right in front of me was the great man himself.

Chapter 15

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