The house of lust, a place where laws are broken

This is the chronicle of the life of a forty-one-year-old Indian woman Nancy and sexuality she has seen and experienced around her .

CHAPTER ONE

"Nancy, you have to be brave," Susan said, "Pappa will come back soon." Nancy nodded, though her eyes remained glued to the dark clouded sky . The ancestral home in the village on the outskirts of Kottayam city had a way of making nights days longer when Simon,her beloved pappa, wasn't around. Sebastian, Susan's father , a sixty five years old but healthy and well built man, emerged from the dark hallway. He knew the drill; Simon had been called for duty countless times before. "It's time," he announced to his daughter and son-in-law. Simon stood up, kissing Nancy gently on the forehead. He ruffled her hair and whispered, "Be good for your mother. I'll bring you a surprise from Mangalore, okay?".Her eyes lit up briefly, but the fear remained. Simon's job was a constant source of tension. Every time he left, it felt like a part of the house left with him. Susan sighed, watching him don his raincoat and grab his bag.

"Please, be safe," she called out, her voice a mix of love and worry.Sebastian started the bullet, the engine's roar a comforting constant amidst the chaos of the weather. The village road was a river of rainwater. Even though the gusting wind and raindrops hitting his face obscured his vision, Sebastian skillfully rode his bullet motorcycle through the flooded road. Susan's mother, Sebastian's wife Mary is 60 years old. She has been bedridden for eight years due to paralysis. Since Mary is bedridden, Susan comes to live with her husband and daughter in the ancestral home to take care of her mother and look after her father's affairs.When Sebastian asked Simon to let Susan stay at his house, Simon happily agreed.Before that, they lived in the railway quarters in Ernakulam. Nancy was enrolled in a school here.Simon's house is in Idukki, the largest district in Kerala and lies amidst the Cardamom Hills of Western Ghats in state. Simon's parents are deceased. One of his two sisters is a nurse in Canada. The other is in Idukki itself. His work schedule was unpredictable, so he only got a few days off each month. When he was in Kochi, Susan and Nancy were almost alone for weeks in their family quarter. Even when Simon managed to come home, he'd frequently get a call ordering him back to work immediately, sometimes even in the middle of the night. No matter the weather - rain, shine, snow, or flood - he had to go. Simon went happily, though, because the train, the tracks, and the signals were his world. He even preferred the goods train's guard room to his own home. Sebastian often visited their place, staying for a day or two at a time. This was a relief for Simon, too. After three weeks, he finally had a day off to see his wife and daughter, but he got an unexpected call asking him to come back to work. A monsoon shower had just ended, and the sky was darkening yet again. Sebastian asked, "When will you be back?" His voice was almost lost in the noise of the howling wind and the rumble of the motorcycle engine. Simon replied, "It'll be at least a week." When they finally got to the station, Simon climbed off the bike, his shoes splashing in the puddles. They shook hands firmly. "Take care," Sebastian said in a gruff tone, trying to hide the worry that was clear on his face. "It's pouring out there, so drive slowly". Simon said. "You know my maximum speed is forty and I need to buy some pork and banana chips on the way." Sebastian said as shifting the gear. Simon suspected that Susan had asked Sebastian to buy pork, and he was certain of it. After all, Sebastian was the kind of father who would move mountains for his daughter. Simon couldn't help but think that his father in law had never shown this level of attentiveness, not even to his own wife. Simon doesn't have to spend a lot of money on Susan and Nancy. Susan's father even bears a large share of the household expenses.

The platform was bustling with passengers. The atmosphere buzzed as the announcement for the approaching train echoed through the speakers. Simon strolled leisurely towards the northern end of the platform. He slipped his hand into his pocket to ensure his ‘Duty Pass’ is still securely in place. The Bangalore express chugged into platform number one, right on time. He felt a rush of relief. The punctuality meant that he would be able to report to duty without any delays. He stepped aboard, the familiar sway of the carriage grounding him as he made his way through the train and found an empty seat and settled in, the rhythmic clack of the wheels a soothing lullaby. His duty is in a BTPN that is carrying crude oil from Ernakulam to MRPL in Mangalore at 11 pm. He has to report to the station at least one hour in advance. There is a lot of work to be done before leaving the source station. First, the necessary clearances have to be obtained from the station master and then the VG (Vehicle Guidance) has to be obtained. This document lists the wagons in the train, their tare weight, load tonnage, and total tonnage. Then there is the formation check. The guard thoroughly inspects the entire train formation for any potential issues that could endanger the safe running of the train. This includes checking for loose or missing fittings, ensuring doors are closed, and verifying the integrity of the train's undergear. Then the guard confirms the train's brake system is functioning correctly by checking brake continuity with the Loco Pilot. They also sign the Brake Power certificate (BPC) to ensure sufficient brake power. After that, the guard verifies that all safety equipment, including torches, flags, tail lamps, and emergency lights, are in good working order. Finally the guard and driver conduct a General Driver-Guard (GDR) check to ensure the train is safe for running. This involves checking the condition of the wagons and the train's undergear. And on the journey, at intermediate stations where the train is scheduled to stop for 30 minutes or more, the guard should inspect wagon seals along with the train clerk and seal checker. The guard needs to obtain clearances from the station master before the train departs. At intermediate stations, the guard should inspect wagon seals, rivets, vents, roofs, and doors of covered wagons and check lines, sheets, etc., on open wagons. If a defective or deficient seal is found, the guard should inform the station master, who will have the wagon sealed. The gentle rocking of the train, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels, the drumming of the rain, and the cool breeze drifting in combined to lull Simon into a peaceful slumber. At Ernakulam station, the chaos was more intense. Simon knew the drill by heart: disembark, locate the BTPN train, and get to work. The clock read 7:20 pm, giving him enough time to complete his checks before the train's 11 pm departure. He sprinted through the crowded station. The platform was a maze of goods wagons and hustling workers. His eyes searched for the telltale signs of his train: the towering black tanks that held the lifeblood of the nation, crude oil. Spotting it in the distance, he quickened his pace, feeling the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. By the time he reached the BTPN train, his clothes were drenched, sticking to his skin. He ignored the discomfort, his mind focused solely on the task ahead. The station master handed him the VG document with a curt nod, acknowledging his urgency. Simon's eyes scanned the page, the columns of numbers and codes, a silent language that spoke of the weight and worth of his charge. He tucked it safely into his raincoat pocket, knowing it would be a crucial guide through the long, dark night. The rain had let up a bit, but the air remained heavy and oppressive. Simon's shoes squelched as he made his way through the saturated tracks, the light from his flashlight with every step. The train loomed before him, a monstrous shadow in the dimness. The smell of crude oil hung thickly in the air, a potent reminder of the volatile cargo he was about to escort. He began his formation check, his breaths deep and measured, his eyes scanning every inch of the wagons with the precision of a hawk. The rhythmic clang and groan of the metal beneath his feet resonated in the quiet, marking time like a metronome's tick. His heart hammered against his ribs, not out of fear, but because of the excitement of the work. He felt a surge of life, a vital part of the vast railway machine, keeping the nation's vital flow moving smoothly onward. Simon's flashlight danced over the wagons, casting elongated shadows that twisted and contorted with every movement. He checked the fittings, the doors, the undergear. The rain had made everything slick and slippery, but his glowed hands moved with a sureness that came from years of experience. A voice called out from the walkie talkie, "Simon" It was the loco pilot, a burly man named Ramesh, with a thick mustache and a stern expression that belied the camaraderie they shared. "The brake continuity check," Ramesh shouted over the din of the station. Simon nodded and made his way to the back of the train, his flashlight cutting through the night as he approached. The test typically involves the loco pilot charging the Brake Pipe (BP) to a specified pressure, often around 5 kg/cm2.and he ensures the pressure is at least 4.8 kg/cm2 in the brake van or guard's cabin. Then he reduces the BP pressure to 4 kg/cm2.The guard observes the pressure drop in the brake van. It should decrease to 3.6-4 kg/cm2, indicating the train brakes are applying. If the pressure doesn't reduce in this range, it signifies a discontinuity in the BP, potentially due to a leak or blockage. With the checks complete, Simon retreated to the guard's cabin, a metal box on wheels that was his shelter for the next uncertain hours. The cabin was a bastion of order amidst the chaos, with every tool and paper neatly in its place. He pulled out the VG document and began to review it once more, his mind racing through every possible scenario that could unfold on the journey ahead. He sat in the guard's cabin, the VG document laid out before him like a map to a treasure trove of oil. The rain had stopped, leaving only the distant rumble of thunder to serenade him. He checked the list again, his eyes flicking over the tare weight and load tonnage of each wagon. His mind was a calculator, tallying the numbers, ensuring that the total weight was within limits. The needle of his watch ticked away the seconds, each one louder than the last. It was 10.50 pm. Five minutes to the start of his journey. The anticipation was palpable, a living thing that coiled around him like a serpent, tightening its grip with every passing moment. He took a deep breath, his heart racing in his chest like the wheels of the train he was about to board. The signaling torch was his lifeline, his silent sentinel in the dark. He checked it once more, the red and green bulbs winking at him reassuringly. The rain had picked up again, a symphony of droplets hammering against the metal roof of the cabin. It was as if the skies themselves were counting down the moments until his departure. The clock's hand crept closer to the eleven. Simon felt a knot in his stomach, but it was not fear. It was the anticipation of a job well done. He was the guardian of this colossal beast, the arbiter of its journey. In the quiet of the cabin, his white uniform stood out like a beacon in the gloom. It was spotless, a testament to Susan's care and his own pride. His eyes fell on the Tupperware container sitting on the tiny table, filled with the warmth of Susan's love. She had packed his favorite meal: a generous serving of rice, a dollop of sambar, and a few pieces of crispy fried fish. Despite his growling stomach, he knew it would have to wait. The train's hunger was more immediate, more demanding. He glanced out of the window, watching the rain dance across the distant platform. The droplets looked like silver beads under the station's harsh lights, a stark contrast to the inky night beyond. The thought of Nancy, tucked in her bed miles away, brought a pang of longing. He wondered if she had fallen asleep yet, her dreams filled with tales of adventure and trains, just like her father's had been at her age. Suddenly, the voice of the LP came from Simon's walkie-talkie. “Guard, everything clear and secured for departure''. “Yes ,the train is ready for departure.Brakes are tested ,wagons are secured and the train is free from any obstruction and the tail lamp is On and tail board is in place .”. Simon replied. “Let's ensure the brake pressure is adequate and there are no leaks. Have you checked the brake pipe pressure reading?". LP Ramesh checked . "Yes, The brake pipe pressure is within the limits. No leaks detected. I've also verified the hand brakes are properly set at the rear of the train.". Simon said. "Good. And have you communicated with the SM to confirm the line is clear?".LP asked . "Yes, I received the 'Line Clear' signal from the Station Master. We are cleared to proceed." Simon replied. "Okay, then. Let's make sure we have the 'Start Order' from the Station Master before we proceed. Are we ready to move?" LP asked . "Yes. We are ready to start. I've double-checked everything. Let's proceed." Simon . "Alright, Guard. I'll give the starting signal after receiving the 'Start Order’'. LP concluded . A sharp blow of horn pierced the air, a Super Fast Express approached, a silver streak in the night. The express thundered past, a blur of lights and speed, leaving in its wake a momentary calm, a brief respite in the relentless dance of the raindrops. Then, the quiet was shattered by the urgent wail of two short horns. Simon's body tensed, his eyes snapping to the mirror reflecting the train's rear. Ramesh, the loco pilot, was signaling him, the train's mighty diesel engines rumbling like a living beast, eager to be unleashed. It was time. With a flick of his wrist, Simon raised his lamp, the green light slicing through the dark. It was a silent language, a coded message that said, "We are clear, the journey begins." The ALP, the Assistant Loco Pilot, acknowledged from the far end of the train, his own lamp flashing back in response. The final check was done. The long, mournful wail of the horn echoed through the station, a prelude to the symphony of motion.Simon released the train brake . Seconds later a long and a short horn has blown . Simon felt the vibration under his feet, a gentle nudge from the massive locomotive that signaled the start of their journey. He leaned out of the cabin, the cold wind slapping his cheeks as the BTPN train began to inch forward. The green light from his lamp was swallowed by the night, the only response the retreating figure of Ramesh, his hand raised in a final salute before the train picked up speed. The platform grew smaller in the distance, the rain-soaked faces of the few late-night travelers a blur. The station's lights grew dimmer, swallowed by the abyss of the tracks ahead. Simon's heart swelled with a mix of pride and responsibility. He was not just a man on a train; he was a guardian, a shepherd to the precious cargo that would fuel the fires of progress. A gust of wind swept through, driving a new squall of rain inside through the cabin's open doorway. He leaned forward, the fine rain drops dampening his face, his eyes fixed on the gleaming tracks as they snaked their way into the distance. The locomotive is pulling fifty-four carriages filled with crude oil, a valuable load that holds the potential to either realize a multitude of aspirations or trigger a cascade of horrors. The BTPN trains were restricted to a slow 25 or 30 km/h on the Ernakulam-Shoranur line, a pace so sluggish it tried the calm of even the most unflappable guards. Yet Simon understood the need for constant watchful Once the train was underway and settling into its regular movement, Simon found himself truly appreciating Ramesh's talent at the controls. The massive machine seemed to float along the tracks, a clear sign of the loco pilot's expertise. Despite the weight of the cargo, there were no sudden lurches or abrupt stops. It was almost as if the train itself grasped the need for a light touch when handling such potentially dangerous freight. He took a deep breath and quietly prayed to Jesus, hoping for a smooth journey without any unexpected delays. The green light was their ultimate goal, the entrance to the open road where the train could finally speed up and race through the night. An express train crossed them on the downline and he waved a green signal to the express train's driver. The wind had picked up again, the rain coming in sideways. Inside the cabin, the air was thick with the smell of diesel and wet iron. He washed his hands with the water that the box boy had brought. Simon opened the Tupperware container. The warm, fragrant steam hit him like a gentle embrace.The rice was perfectly cooked, each grain separate yet clinging to the warmth of the chicken curry. The fried fish looked heavenly, their crispy skins glistening with oil and spices. The taste of home filled his mouth, bringing some comfort to the cold, metal cabin. As he ate, his thoughts turned to his wife and daughter, who must all be sound asleep by now. Susan’s mother usually went to bed early after eating her food and medicine. Has the power come back on? The electricity board would only fix it after dawn. It had been raining, so there would be no heat or mosquitoes. After finishing the dinner at midnight , Simon washed the container in the rainwater that fell through the channel from the top of the cabin . "When will I be able to eat home-cooked food again?" he thought as he washed his hands. Sebastian's favoritism for Susan was not lost on Simon. Every time he saw a new dress or piece of jewelry adorning Susan, he couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment. Yet, he knew that it was not Susan's doing. She had always been a dutiful daughter. It was Sebastian's way of showing his love, a love that was as old as the very house they lived in. The train lurched slightly as it rounded a bend, jolting Simon back to the present. He checked the brake continuity again.The rain had picked up again, the drops drumming a frantic beat against the cabin's metal walls. The wind howled like a pack of wild dogs, urging the train to race ahead despite its burden. Suddenly, the rhythmic clack of the wheels grew softer, the train's pace slackening. The brakes screeched, a high-pitched wail that pierced the night, sending a shiver down Simon's spine. The deceleration was swift but controlled, the train's massive weight resisting the sudden change in velocity. Simon's hand shot out to grab the side of the cabin as the world outside the window grew larger, the train's headlamp illuminating the dark horizon. His heart skipped a beat as the rain slackened, revealing a set of lights up ahead. He squinted, the glow growing more defined as they approached. ' Wayside station' he read the name from 'station name board. The train shuddered as it switched tracks, the wheels clanking and grinding against the steel. The red signal loomed before them.Simon's gaze was glued to the track ahead, his hand tightening around the cold metal handle above his head. The train's headlamp pierced the murky night, revealing the switching point where they would switch to the goods line. The brakes screeched again as the train ground to a halt, the carriages jolting with the sudden cessation of movement.Simon stepped out of the cabin, and checked the red marker light hanging on the wagon frame. It visually indicates the end of the train to other loco pilots and track workers . He was greeted by a wall of darkness, the only light coming from the distant FCI godown. The rain had retreated, leaving the world steaming and alive with the scent of wet earth. Simon locked both cabin doors securely from the inside, a habit ingrained from countless nights spent on the job. The guard's cabin was a solitary bastion at the end of the 750-meter-long train. HIs walkie-talkie, crackled to life,LP Ramesh's voice cutting through the silence like a knife, "Guard, we've stopped on a red signal. Can you see the signal?" "Yes, loco pilot, red signal is displayed," Simon responded calmly, his eyes scanning the tracks behind him. LP Ramesh's voice echoed through the walkie-talkie, a mix of frustration and concern, "Guard, the line ahead is clear, but the signal hasn't changed. I've called the station master, but no response yet." Simon nodded, his eyes never leaving the red light, a beacon of uncertainty in the blackness. "We'll wait," he said, his voice firm despite the knot in his stomach. Unscheduled stops were not uncommon, but in the middle of the night, they carried a certain edge of tension that no one liked. He stepped back into the cabin, the cold metal floor beneath his feet a stark contrast to the warmth of the rice and curry he had just enjoyed. His walkie-talkie remained in his hand, a lifeline to the front of the train. He glanced at the VG document again, his mind racing through possible scenarios. If the signal didn't change soon, they would be behind schedule, a situation no one wanted, especially with a train this size and a cargo this volatile. He wrote the time of arrival at 1.44am, station name and the reason for stopping the train in his journal book and he had to enter the time of departure when the train cleared to move again. Crude oil trains (also known as unit trains) can have a degree of preference in traffic, especially when it comes to block rake traffic. Block rake traffic, which includes single-commodity trains like crude oil, generally receives preference within its priority class. This means that they may be given priority over other freight or passenger trains within the same category. Simon knew this well, yet the sight of the unyielding red signal brought with it a sense of unease that he couldn't shake. He knew the protocols, the procedures, but he also knew that the unpredictability of the railways was a fickle mistress. The silence outside was almost eerie, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind and the distant sound of a stray animal foraging in the darkness. He looked through the glass pane of the window, his eyes drawn to the abandoned gang rest room close to the track. Two figures emerged from the shadows, their forms barely discernible in the feeble light. They moved with a sense of urgency that seemed out of place in the quiet stillness of the night.Simon's eyes narrowed as they approached the restroom, the red light from the signal reflecting off the wet tracks. He recognized the silhouettes of a man and a woman, their movements frantic.The woman, her hair plastered to her face by the rain, turned to the man and spoke urgently. The man, tall and broad, reached into his pocket and handed her something and she tucked it into her blouse. Simon's hand tightened around the walkie-talkie, his knuckles white with tension. The rain had lessened to a mere drizzle now. He could almost feel the weight of the man's gaze as it flickered towards the cabin, checking for any signs of movement. The woman bent over, her hand disappearing between her legs, and the man followed her lead, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants fall to his knees. The sight was like a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the darkness that could exist even in the most mundane of places.The woman's hand emerged, and she guided the man's erect penis towards her, pushing it against her vagina. The man groaned, his hand reaching around to grasp her hip as he entered her roughly from behind. Simon's stomach churned with a mix of disgust and anger. He tore his gaze away, focusing instead on the glowing dials of his watch. The second hand ticked away, each tick a silent rebuke to the impatient train. The delay was now sixteen minutes long, each minute stretching like an eternity. He knew the impact it could have on the train's schedule, the ripple effect it could create for the rest of the night's operations. On an impulse, Simon looked out the window again. The restroom was empty. The couple was gone, the scene outside returning to the quiet solitude that had been there before. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained a stubborn gray, hinting at more to come. He heard a distant rumble, and his eyes searched for the source. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves shimmering with the recent downpour. Then, a long, mournful sound pierced the air. Simon's heart skipped a beat as he recognized it—his train's whistle, calling from afar. He'd heard that sound a thousand times before, but today it was a siren's song, urging him back to the life he knew. Without wasting a moment, he grabbed the walkie-talkie from his pocket. "Loco Pilot," he barked into the device, "signal is green! We can proceed." The voice that crackled back was faint, but the message was clear. His train was waiting, the heart of the metal beast pounding with the rhythm of the tracks. He knew he had to go, to be a part of that unceasing journey. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he displayed the green light to the Loco Pilot. The light reflected off the gleaming wet surfaces of the tracks and was immediately returned as an acknowledgment from the distant engine. The train jolt to life, starting its journey with a smooth jerk that seemed almost imperceptible from his position. The heavy weight of the oil-filled wagons began to roll. The wheels grind rhythmically against the dampened rails, leaving a trail of echoes in their wake. Simon stepped into the cabin. ‘The guard's journal’’ lay open on the small metal desk, its pages fluttering slightly from the occasional gusts of wind that found their way in through the slightly cracked window. He picked up the pen, feeling the cold steel against his fingertips, and with a sense of solemn responsibility, recorded the time of departure. 2.03 AM. As his cabin passed the station, the station master on duty, held up the green signal lamp. Simon returned the signal . The train picked up speed. The world outside grew a blur as the train gained speed, swallowing the night. Gradually, the distant lights of the station grew smaller and dimmer until they were nothing but a memory behind him. The only company was the persistent rhythm of the wheels and the occasional flicker of lightning in the distant horizon. The quiet was suddenly shattered by a blinding flash of lightning. The cabin rattled as the thunderclap followed, a deafening roar that seemed to come from the very bowels of the earth. The lights flickered and danced, throwing eerie shadows across the walls. His heart hammered in his chest. Simon took a deep breath. Storms were common in the monsoons, and he'd faced many in his years of service. He closed his eyes, picturing Nancy's smile, Susan's face .

TO BE CONTINUED..