Dil Ki Bandagi (Early Acess Ch 35)

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*****

“Kamasutra,” she whispered.
And now Raghav blinked.
The word hung in the air like the echo of a secret let out too soon.

He tilted his head slightly, as if he hadn’t heard her right.
“Kamasutra?” he repeated—his voice soft, not angry, only surprised.

Aarti kept her eyes lowered, her hands clutching the folds of her saree like a lifeline.
“Whoa… I—I just couldn’t stop myself. I opened it. I didn’t understand much. I only looked at the pictures. I’m sorry…”

Raghav didn’t speak right away. The silence stretched—not heavy, but careful. Thoughtful.

“I shouldn’t have touched it,” she murmured. “It felt wrong. But I… I wanted to understand what you were reading. I thought maybe… it would tell me something. About you. About us.”

Raghav flinched, barely—but she saw it.
“About us,” she repeated, suddenly unsure she had the right to say it.

She dared to look up then, searching his face for anger, disappointment—anything.

But Raghav didn’t look angry.

He looked moved.

He knelt beside the bed, closer now. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then finally:

“It’s not wrong.”

Aarti blinked. “Kya?”

“It’s not wrong to be curious. Not about this. Not with me.”
He offered a small smile—tentative but sincere.
“We’ve just been told it’s taboo. Sinful. Forbidden.”

Her heart raced.

“Who said it’s wrong?” he continued, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle, steady.
“When there’s love, nothing is wrong. It’s only wrong when it’s taken. Without consent.
Love isn’t something you take, Aarti. It’s something you wait for… if it comes.”

“Asking…” she echoed, the word catching on her tongue. “I never thought of it that way.”

Raghav nodded, his gaze full of understanding.
“Even I learned the hard way,” he said with a half-smile, a shadow of something heavier passing through him. “But now I know: love should always be consensual. Always respectful.”

“So… you read it because…?” Her voice trailed off as her eyes searched his for confirmation.

“Because no one ever told me what love should be,” he replied.
“Not desire. Not touch. Not tenderness. I read it hoping it would teach me what they never did. What I couldn’t learn at home.”

“In a way, so the mistake I made in the past won’t happen again,” he added.

Aarti hesitated. “Because of that incident…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.

Raghav nodded, grateful she didn’t press. Grateful she understood.

“I never saw love,” he said quietly. “Baba and Ma—barely a word passed without a fight. No warmth. No touch. Silence like wallpaper. Rage, like a second language.”

Aarti’s throat tightened.
“But… they look fine to me,” she said softly, reaching out to hold his hand.

“Maybe because they’re old,” Raghav replied. “But you haven’t seen what happens behind closed doors.”

He squeezed her hand gently.

“I wanted to know what it meant to touch someone with reverence,” he said. “To see love not as a duty, but as something sacred. That book… It’s not just about the body. It’s about connection.”

Her heart pounded—but she didn’t know why.

“It’s been a long time now,” he said. “I even forgot the book was still here.”
He remembered giving it to Rajeev when he married Nandini—hoping his brother might learn what he hadn't and avoid the heartbreak he hadn’t seen coming until it was too late. Raghav thought back to the last time he had held the book, remembering the weight of it in his hands and the wisdom it contained. He realized now that perhaps the true lesson was not in the pages, but in the act of passing it on to someone else.

“Maybe some things feel wrong,” he added quietly, “only because we were taught to fear them.”

Aarti’s voice came before her thoughts could catch it.
“So can I read it too…?” She saw the tabooed sketch, but she wanted to understand the words beneath the surface, to understand the truth that had been hidden from her.

Raghav chuckled—lightly, like the sound surprised even him. “One day. When you feel ready… and when the letters stop slipping away from you.”

He took the book gently from her hands and flipped through the pages.
“It’s not just about the physical,” he said, looking at her now. “It’s about understanding emotions. Respect. How two people… connect.”

Then he handed it back to her, a knowing look in his eyes.

Aarti nodded, her curiosity deepening—no longer just about the book, but about him. About them.

She knew Raghav’s fear of intimacy. That he never touched her out of fear of hurting her. That somewhere in him, tenderness had been twisted with guilt. She wondered if they could ever unlearn that fear. If they could ever rewrite it—together.

Her gaze drifted toward the shelf.

One day, she told herself. When the letters stop blurring and her hands stop trembling, she’d open it again. Not just to look—but to understand. To unlearn fear. To begin.

She smiled.

Not yet—but soon.

*****

✨ Author’s Note✨

“Kamasutra.”
Aarti said it. Out loud. In 1950s India.
And everything shifted.

This chapter wasn’t just about a book — it was about a woman stepping into her own wanting.
Her own voice.
Her own curiosity.

💭 As an Indian woman, I can't even begin to explain how taboo this still feels — even now, in 2025. But in the 1950s? Talking about desire? About female longing? It wasn't just forbidden — it was considered sinful. Dirty. Dangerous.

But here’s the truth:
✨ We have needs too.
✨ We deserve love too.
✨ Our pleasure is not a crime.

Women were taught to stay silent, to serve, to wait. But what happens when a woman like Aarti… dares to ask? Dares to wonder? Dares to want?

And what if a man like Raghav… actually listens?

He’s not perfect. He’s learning. But he’s reading. Reflecting. Unlearning the toxic version of masculinity he was raised with.
📚 Men — take note.
It’s not “unmanly” to understand love.
It’s revolutionary.

💥 In Chapter 36, Aarti’s questions won’t stop — and neither will the tension.
Will Raghav open up completely?
Will Aarti find the courage to read deeper — into the book… and into him?

💬 Tell me:

• Have you ever felt ashamed of your curiosity?

• Did someone ever make you feel wrong for wanting to understand your own body, your own love?

• And if you’re a man reading this — what did you grow up believing about consent? About tenderness?

Let’s talk. Let’s share. Let’s unlearn together.

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📲 Forward this to someone who still whispers her questions. Let her know she’s not alone.

🌺 With love, rage, and reverence,
— Shaar Shree