Premarital Sex- & conjectures surrounding it.....


“As I stood looking at the round moon, through my bedroom window and allowed the soothing spring breeze, to caress my hair. My thought wandered, a shy smile appeared at the corner of my lips. I brought my hand close to my nose and breathed a lung full of the aroma of mehendi. A few drops of water fell from my partially wet hair onto my satin night gown. I suddenly felt his profound embrace.”


From childhood buddies to teenage sweethearts, Arushi and Aniket were as if destined to be together. Their togetherness, never gave the space for a third person to intervene. But marriage was different, it was an all together different feeling of blissful togetherness. Arushi lately felt more complete and her skin had turned too sensitive to Aniket’s touch. From being friends to partners and then getting married, they had enjoyed it all. Every phase had a different fragrance of divine love attached to it. Sharing tiffin in classroom gradually changed to sharing thoughts and feelings, but the change was so gradual and overlapping, that they barely felt it happen. But Arushi had drawn a line and strictly followed it, she believed in enjoying each phase of life its own way. She wanted to feel the bliss of married life in full bloom. So she and Aniket never had sex before tying the knot, not that they didn't make love though. It was a challenge for Arushi to explain to Aniket her thinking, but eventually he respected it.




“As I stood looking at the round moon, through the iron bars of my bedroom window and allowed the soothing spring breeze, to caress my unkempt hair. My thought wandered, the questions appeared again. Who am I? What am I made of? Why am I treated like this?”


Renuka was a housewife to a rich businessman and mother of two lovely daughters. Her long marriage life had been like a boat ride on a rough sea. She never knew how to please her husband and also the need of doing so. Anyways he derived pleasure out of her body hurting her soul, whenever he pleased. She had no say; the bourgeois society gave her husband all the rights. But isn't sex an extended expression of love and passion? She will never know, at least in this life. She too had dreamed of a blissful life of togetherness with her husband. But what bliss? Every day she gets shocked reading the newspaper headlines about the thousands of girls being molested, raped and brutally killed. She wonders about the millions of wives who are raped every night, not killed, only to live a life of humiliation. She sarcastically smiles to herself, the newspaper will run short of space to accommodate their painful stories. To the conformist society, she is pious, then why does she feel dirty all the time? Why does her sad, dark eyes with smudged kohl look so devoid of life? Why does the pain in every part of her body shriek out to narrate a story about anything but LOVE?




“As I stood looking at the round moon, through the iron bars of my bedroom window and allowed the soothing spring breeze, to caress my stubborn curls. I felt unsure of myself, am I right or am I wrong? I did not know. Sometimes love breaks all norms and run to embrace strongly, too strongly to resist. But where to draw the line between love and lust? Or is there any? I questioningly looked at the magical light of the moon.”


It was a beautiful night, the moon was shining in full glory and the breeze was alluring. Riddhima and Rishi both tried hard to concentrate on their lessons, but could not. Again and again they illuminated their mobile screens to check the time. Riddhima’s room mate was out of town, and Rishi was supposed to spend the night at her place. They had decided to cover few chapters together. Both of them were excited and wanted to discover how it felt to let the night pass, lying beside each other. But the tuition class was never ending that day. As they reached Riddhima’s room, Rishi was surprised at the cleanliness. A little bit of studying over a cup of coffee, watching their favourite series on Riddhima’s laptop. Time passed beautifully.


Rishi was looking straight into Riddhima’s eyes; a stare that had the heat of melting the glacier, she thought she was loosing herself to him and tried hard to refrain. But as the candidness of the moment, the spring breeze, the magical night caught over her senses of righteousness and tradition, she let it go and made love. Riddhima loved living that moment, at the same time she had certain guilt attached to it. But she believed that her love and trust would never be misused by Rishi.




“As I stood looking at the round moon, through the iron bars of my bedroom window and allowed the soothing spring breeze, to play with my ungroomed hair. Tears of anguish and betrayal oozed out of my kohl smudged eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I wanted to kill myself for being the emotional fool I was. Being a bimbo is no good. I hated myself for playing the soft target to a self-seeking bastard’s evil intent.”


Rashi was a young energetic girl in her early twenties. Studies and sports had kept her too busy, to think that she was far too attractive. She never thought that her tomboyishness could act as a reason for attracting somebody’s fancy. But she never bothered to being someone else. She was content in her own making.


Rashi had met Rajat at a common friend’s birthday, and sparks had immediately flown. She was amused to see Rajat’s effort to talk to her in the party. In spite of many of her friends warning her about his Casanova image, she had fallen in love with him head over heels. For six months the lovey dovey episode went well, they even made love to each other many a times, only because Rajat wanted so. Rashi had almost given herself up in his mercy, such was the impact of his glittering camouflage and she would have lived in her myth forever, if that god damn night had not cast its menacing shadow over her life.


She felt dizzy after the first drink, but continued to party hard. Shots after shots and pegs after pegs, she was doing what she had never done before. The last thing she remembered was Rajat carrying her in his arms, to some unknown place. When she came back to senses, she was shattered to see her half nude body and intimate moments being subject to everybody’s stare, she was viral on the networking sites.




The above narrated tales are fictional, but having said that, none of them are rare in the society we dwell. So if someone asks my views on this topic. I don't have a proper answer, because the answer is different from case to case. Some say sex and love are related, some say they are not. I say its fine to indulge into love making before or after marriage, if it does not adversely effect the mental or physical health of the doers or the people related to them. Indian society is conjectured to the core on topics related to sex and I feel its time to change this "hush hush" environment and convey to the next generation the pros and cons of it.


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