Rohingyas in Assam Pt. 01

The backdrop of Assam has been different since boats arrived from the border; the Myanmar war has destabilised the whole area, but this time there was a stark contrast. The Rohingya men fled to the west and the Middle East, but the Rohingya women couldn't go further.

The first group arrived soon enough; this time, the social activists were peaceful because they were women. Burqa-clad women, mostly in their 40s and 50s, most without their children.

The Assam government gave them temporary small settlements in Guwahati, Sivasagar, Jorhat and Dibrugarh. There were few in number, with 100-120 women in each settlement.

Women-centric NGOs were desperate to contact them; they wanted to help these 'helpless women'. One such NGO was the Women of Assam Forum. It had many members, so what they did was employ some of these women as their maids or give them some money to become tailors, butchers, and washerwomen.

Jonali Pathak was one of its members, a housewife of 51 years who had been serving her husband for eternity. After marrying her daughter off, she got a bit of her freedom and joined the forum; she just wanted to help the Rohingya women learn how to integrate.

Her husband used to go to his fields in the morning and come back in the evening, so she didn't have anything to do for the whole day. So, she went to the camp nearby, where the Rohingya lived. It had a small school, now only for vocational education.

Jonali was not that educated, but she knew her language, knew how to knit, cooked good food and was caring.

The Rohingya women used to look at the Assamese women strangely, as they wore mekhela chador, which clung to their bodies beautifully, their navels, hands and upper backs on view for everyone.

Rohingya women covered themselves fully, but still there was something about how some were tailoring their dresses; the burqas they wore earlier were more baggy or oversized, but now they were a bit tighter, their curves showing a bit; some acknowledged it as a contemporary of the Assamese women.

The market was also really good; it was less costly. They just wanted to live their lives. Assamese women came to these markets quite often for tailoring, spices, parlour and services, and other things.

One such day, Jonali arrived at the camp; it was Sunday, so the market was full, the sun at full intensity, her body full of sweat oozing from her temples, armpits, navel, and private areas.

Suddenly, an umbrella came up; the shade gave her relief, and she looked sideways and saw Nagma Khatoon. She stood tall at 5.7, wearing a green coloured hijab that held her curves in a proper way. Her face looked rough, her teeth dirty due to tobacco consumption, but there was an intense look she gave that made people listen to her.

The only thing similar about both of them was their voluptuous figure: Jonali's chest at 38 and Nagma's 36, but the former's hips at 36 and the latter's at 38. The most striking difference was their skin colour: Jonali with a creamy white complexion and Nagma Dusky brown.

Jonali had seen Nagma from the earliest moment of the arrivals. Nagma was one of the first to arrive; she got involved in helping her people integrate.

Now, at this moment, she was one of the most influential women; she had her own store, which had two floors. The ground floor had a garment store, where clothes were cheaply brought in through illegal means; the first floor had a parlour, along with her room where she lived.

Jonali, standing at 5.2, looked up at Nagma and gave a shy smile. She could see the sweat forming on Nagma's upper lip; her nose ring gave her a different look.

Nagma- You live near the block, don't you?

Jonali- Yes, how do you know?

Nagma- It's a small area; everyone knows everyone, and you seem to be here almost every day. Doesn't your husband say anything?

Jonali- Well, I work for the NGO, and my husband is busy in his field, so I like to help your people.

Nagma looked at her intensely, her eyes moving from Jonali's eyes to her full, kissable lips to her ample bosom that the blouse was holding; her bra outline could be seen, but Nagma wanted more.

Nagma- Your blouse needs a bit of adjustment.

Jonali looked at her bosom, blushing a bit.

Jonali- But I fixed it in the town market.

Nagma- They don't know how to fix bras and panties of mature women; they themselves look thin and small. Only we Rohingya know how to fix them; don't worry about the payment, you can give it to me afterwards.

Jonali was surprised at what Nagma said, but deep down she knew that they were actually good with it, so she carried on.

Jonali- Well, I will pay it in time, I promise.

Nagma smiled at her, her eyes moving towards the mangalsutra and taking a gulp.

Nagma- I know you will pay for it.

Saying that, they started moving towards Nagma's store, her eyes not moving one inch from Jonali's ass; its swaying made Nagma's eyes twinkle; she licked her tongue.

Upon arriving, the shop was almost closed as it was time for lunch; the other workers had moved out, so there stood only Jonali and Nagma.

Nagma- You never know with men. I should close the door and let us move to the trial room.

Jonali obliged and moved forward, Nagma taking a measuring tape with her, and went after her. Upon reaching, the trial room was small, hardly enough to include two people; it had a mirror on one side, and the other two sides were cement-coated.

Nagma was taller, so her chest could be seen directly by Jonali; she had a smell about her that made Jonali nauseous. She didn't like it, but it was intense.

Nagma asked Jonali to look at the mirror, which was behind her; now Jonali's back was towards Nagma's front. The room didn't have a fan; it was heating up, but it made Nagma more excited as she saw Jonali's drenched blouse, the bra lining forming better.

Nagma- Didn't your husband buy you a blouse and bra? It looks old.

Jonali- No,... ah, he buys me during festivals.

Nagma- Men are useless; they don't know how to take care of a body like yours.

Jonali was flabbergasted at what she heard; her body stiff as Nagma's hands came forward, she brought the tape in front of her bosom and started to take measurements.

Each time she measured, she increased the pressure, due to which Jonali's cleavage wanted to bulge out of her blouse. She looked at the mirror and then at Jonali's face; she was sweating a lot and her face was red as an apple but didn't know what to do.

Nagma- We hate how your men look at us but love your women; you care so much for us. A day without Assamese women is so dull for us.

Now she started to take the vertical measurement, occasionally touching Jonali's boobs; her breath was getting heavier, and it could be felt on Jonali's neckline. Her eyes were almost closing at the touches.

Nagma- You have kept your modesty for so long. Wear it a bit tighter here; we are only women. We know how to treat you all; let our women have a bit of enjoyment too.

At this moment, Nagma came a bit forward and licked the sweat on Jonali's neck, her one hand on Jonali's belly and the other on her thighs.

Jonali- Nagma Ba, I think this is wrong; we... shouldn't

Nagma- You are in my territory, my sweet Jonali; here I decide what is right and wrong.

She started pouring kisses on Jonali's neck, jaw, and even biting her ear. With one hand, she pulled Jonali towards her, and with the other, she started mauling Jonali's thighs to her ass.

Nagma- Mashallah! What a body you have. Your weakling of a husband doesn't deserve you; you need a hot-blooded woman to take care of you.

Her hands were all over Jonali; now she took both of her hands, grabbing hold of Jonali's jugs. Jonali was trying to stop her, but she just couldn't; her body was betraying her. It was getting heated; there was warm wetness between her legs.

Jonali- This... isss a sin. Nagma, you don't want this...

Nagma- Ohh! You don't know what I want. I have been watching you, flaunting your curves in front of women who live alone. I want you. We Rohingya women have been thirsty for too long.

Jonali was shocked to hear it. They have been controlling themselves for so long; of course, they have urged themselves, and she could feel it by how much Nagma wanted it.

Nagma knew now Jonali was almost under her control; she just needed to make sure, so what she did was stop suddenly and just keep kissing Jonali's neck and nothing else.

What happened next brought a smile to her face. Jonali herself moved her ass backwards, asking to be taken. Her eyes closed. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but it felt so good to be touched in that way.

Nagma- It's a sin, isn't it, Jonali, so I should stop?

Jonali turned and looked directly at Nagma. She brought her arms up and took hold of Nagma's face, and finally she brought her lips to hers. Nagma moved her tongue inside Jonali's mouth, invading it.

Nagma, with her heavy left hand, took hold of Jonali's throat and started kissing her hard. Jonali was out of breath, but Nagma didn't stop. With her right hand, she unbuttoned Jonali's blouse, threw it away and ripped the cheap bra.

Nagma: You should just roam around like this, Jameela. God made you only for me, Alhamdulillah.

Then she pushed Jonali towards the concrete wall and started sucking her boobs like a hungry predator. At this, Jonali was at her mercy, giving herself to the older woman.

Nagma- Would have loved to drink milk from those jugs of yours!

She started pinching, biting and licking one breast after the other, then again kissing her, this time biting on the lips. Then she moved backwards and looked into Jonali's eyes with authority.

Nagma- If you want to go home now, you can, but if you want to stay, then you have to give me everything about you.

Jonali understood what Nagma meant. She thought about her husband, what society would think if they found out, but then she looked at herself and at Nagma. She didn't feel like this for so long.

She started taking off the rest of her mekhela chador; it came down slowly. Nagma loved the show, then it was the turn of her petticoat. She was on her knees, in her panties, when Nagma called her forward.

Nagma started to pull her chador up. Jonali looked at her heavy legs, drenched with sweat, then she saw it: an embroidered panty, purple in colour, but what was more drooling was how much hair she had on her pubic area.

She put one hand inside her panty, rubbed it a bit, took it out and directly made Jonali lick her fingers. The aroma was making Jonali crazy as she went down, looking straight at Nagma's face as she parted the panty and put her lips on Nagma's vagina.

Nagma- Ah!! suck on it you hungry kuttiya. You belong here in the camp in my bed, Inshallah.

Jonali was busy licking every bit of sweat, every bit of juice that was flowing; her mouth had never tasted such a thing. Then Nagma took her by the throat, turned her, spanking her ass as hard as she could.

Nagma- Say it, you belong to me, say it you want this, say it you are my woman, my whore, my begum.

Jonali- Nooo... no I can't, I have a husband.

Nagma- Oh! You can't... then so be it.

What she did next was unbelievable; she tore Jonali's panties and drove one finger into her butthole. Jonali's eyes went white; the pain was so different, as if it was a pleasure.

Jonali- Oh! No, not in there...

Nagma- Then where jaan, do I put my fingers in.

She was moving it to and fro; Jonali was getting the hang of it, but suddenly Nagma moved another one inside. This brought a loud moan from Jonali; her eyes were teary, but her hips moved with Nagma's hand.

Nagma- Say it, Jonali, you know you want this..

Jonali- Yessss, yess, I want you, I want you to fuck me, fuck me like you want, I might have a husband but I am yours Nagmaaaa..

Hearing it, Nagma's thrust became harder and harder and then Jonali gave a moan, and Nagma pulled her fingers out, licking it, loving the aroma.

Nagma- I wanted this so much; it's been so many years without anyone, you belong to me.

Saying this, they started to kiss deeply, both of their tongues moving together, Jonali grabbing hold of Nagma's butt cheeks as if there were no more days.

Suddenly, they heard a commotion outside, as if there were people moving, so Jonali got frightened and put on her dress fast. Then they both moved out; the workers were almost coming in as they moved towards the back door.

Nagma- There you go, no one is going to see you here.

Jonali- Thank you... Can I get your number?

Nagma- Of course, Jaan, here.

She typed her number on Jonali's phone and saved it as Begum Sahiba, and smiled. Jonali was blushing but also smiling.

Nagma- Now, go, before everyone's inside.

Saying that, she spanked Jonali's ass. Jonali started moving towards the main road, limping and swaying her ass. Nagma was proud of what she could achieve today and moved inside her store as regular workers started their work.

In the meantime, Jonali almost got home, but one of her relatives met her on the road. It was Polama Choudhury; she was like a sister-in-law to her, who married one of her husband's cousins. She was one of the women who were obsessed with making Facebook posts to make a little money.

Polama- Oh! Jonali Ba, from the camp?

Jonali- Yes, yes, today a lot of them wanted to learn about Assamese dresses.

Polama- Oh! That's great news; they are learning.

Both of them smiled at each other and moved towards their home, Jonali keeping her head down, as she knew the lie. Polama, on the other hand, got a notification on her phone. She opened it and read.

Polama- Meherun Bibi sent you a friend request; now who might she be? Might be one of the settlers.

And then she accepted it.

This story will continue as the whole situation unfolds; the connection between the Assamese and Rohingya women increases.

You can also suggest different themes too.

To be continued..