By: Anonymous

It’s 9 AM on a chilly Sunday morning. I lay awake, snuggled in my blanket and look up at the ceiling with groggy eyes. The aroma of Sunday-ritualised pulao hints at traces of freshly crushed cinnamon bark, wafts into my room and greets my senses. I can hear the occasional hustle-bustle of a lazy yet eventful Sunday morning of an average Indian household. The static from the T.V and my father’s exasperated groans, coupled with the ‘Kabadiwalla’ yelling for metal scrap and newspapers, fills my household, like any other Sunday. Life is good. My reverie is broken short when my phone decides to chime in. I check my phone and the light hits my eyes, urging me to scroll through a barrage of notifications from last night. One particular yellow envelope grabs my attention instantly – ‘*u/kinkyboots has sent you a message’

 OH. MY. GOD. My favourite user on r/IndiansGoneWild has finally noticed my posts and I cannot believe my eyes! A wide Cheshire Cat smile spreads across my face, ear to ear, as I lay in bed shaking with exhilaration. EARTH TO *RIA. I bring myself to senses and check the message. “You have bested yourself with your last post. So hot and so chocolate-y! I wish I could gobble you up! Here’s a snippet from my erotica, which I wish to share with you. It may or may not have been inspired by you, but here goes nothing!…….” As I delve deep into it, my right hand decides to gingerly reach into my pants…

 

Female sexuality has been the center of much speculation and debate since time immemorial in India. It has always been viewed as ‘too rebellious’ or ‘too crude’ and has been spoken about only behind closed quarters. A woman, who can wear her orgasms on her sleeve, is viewed as being one of a ‘questionable’ character. Her promiscuity is curbed, battered and beaten to dirt, black and blue. An average Indian female has to think twice about asking for ‘it’, in the country that gave the world a step-by-step guide to sex and multiple orgams: ‘The Kamasutra’. It almost seems like a sick joke to me.

 

When I joined the online community, r/IndiansGoneWild – a one-stop shop for exhibitionism and voyeurism, dedicated solely to the South-Asian community – it was with much hesitation that I decided to upload my first risqué picture for the world to see. I expected throngs of hate mail, perverted sexual offers and death threats. Much to my surprise, the first mail I received was of a photographer who wanted to venture into the world of boudoir and offered to capture my nudity. The second person praised me for my skin colour and the natural fat on my body. The third offered to take me out for drinks and treat me right. Several scrolls later, I received an invitation to join Bangalore’s coveted Swinger Couples’ orgy. I was mystified, confused and felt oddly aroused. 

 

A myriad of feelings washed over me and I felt ONE with my body, as if my heart, mind and soul were now in complete synchronization with my body. I felt validated. Accepted. Suddenly, being pale and pink did not seem to be a prerequisite to nudity, nor did having Euro-centric features. To them, uneven pigmentation on my body, hair on my tummy, pigmented underarms and inner thighs and stretch marks on my buttocks, was SEXY; almost alluring and erotic. The positive responses on this community helped me feel at home. I had finally found a way to express my sensuality, that too, with class and poise. For the next couple of days, I’d make a project out of my ‘after dark’ photo-shoot. Sometimes I’d wear sexy lingerie and strip for the Internet, the other times I’d pout and reveal just a hint of the mole above my lip, enough to elicit scores of fan mails and suggestions for the next shoot. I felt in control of my sexuality. I felt empowered, confident in my skin and adored. I didn’t feel the need to think twice about sending a guy a ‘mirror nudie’ anymore. I felt like a blue-ticked Instagram account: CELEBRATED.

 

This newfound confidence inspired me to wear Daisy Dukes and cropped t-shirts in public spaces, something I would not have imagined in a pre-Reddit era. The snug community on Reddit helped me get in touch with my inner goddess, one who had been lying dormant on a lily-pad, dreamily waiting to be jolted awake from her deep slumber.

 

I quit a couple of months ago because I had found my purpose in life: to inspire and be inspired. To celebrate all body types and revel in my skin. To not let a few unsettling gazes deter me from spreading positivity. To shine on and let no stone unturned on my journey to attaining worldly contentment and a sense of oneness with self.

 

My little black dress lies callously strewn over the bed, as if beckoning me to fill her in. I tiptoe into it, and let it slide over my body. The fabric clings to my perky breasts and hangs loosely from my curves. I grab a string of pearls and allow it to rest on my collarbones. Diamond studs grace my face and spark off the revolution I’ve been meaning to ignite for ages. I am ready. Are you?

Suparna Havelia is a 23 year old Civil Engineer from New Delhi, India. She loves to write erotic and dark romance fiction when no one’s watching. Her hobbies include and are not limited to: reading, writing, working towards woman empowerment and female sensuality, patting dogs and drooling over Daniel Day Lewis’ brilliance onscreen. She wishes to head workshops on safe sex, female health issues and on ways to combat stigma surrounding menstrual health, vaginal hygiene and body insecurities

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