Written by: Amar Patel
Disclaimer:
The following story is fictional. The author (myself) is older than 21, anyone who is under the legal age (according to their country, state, or provincial laws) to view erotic material should immediately dissuade themselves from reading further.The story is fictional and similarities to events and persons (living or dead) are purely coincidental and unintentional. If you are offended by homosexual erotica or it is illegal for you to read such material. Please read no further.
Copyright:
The story may not be copied, distributed, in any way, shape or form without consent from the author.
Opinions and Improvements can be sent to my email: patelamar360@gmail.com
This is the third installment in Indian and American Relations. Sorry no sex yet. If you wish to continue to read mine and other authors works, it is important you donate to Nifty. They have provided a rich amount of stories for your enjoyment so it is only fair you give back ;). Chapter II had good responses and I am trying to write a chapter every few days. I have some very devoted readers and I am happy.
Chapter III
Several days had passed since Murali saw Erik, the days went by with little to no events occuring. Murali sat on his couch reading a novel. He did not see Erik at the gym or the curry place and felt a relief, though he enjoyed spending time with Erik it always made his heart beat to the point where Murali could barely keep himself from running. He rummaged through the shelf that held numerous novels and dictionaries and a heavy leather bound album fell onto the floor, perplexed he lifted the cover and realized that it was his family album. He looked at his parents wedding photo and was reminded that he had not seen them in quite sometime. They unlike their children remained in India perfectly happy, Murali's father was a stubborn man of course and his mother refused to even set foot outside New Delhi. Murali flipped the page again and saw him as a young boy riding an elephant, his siblings alongside him. Murali chuckled at how they used to be, Raj being overly serious and pursuing academic prowness, Lavanya who went off to marry a business man ,traveling, and Lakshmi who recently wedded. It's been three years since he has been back, Murali closed the album and placed it gently next to his altar. In reverence he gathered several pieces of fruit and filled several cups with tea. He knelt and chanted to the statues and with a final chant stood. His mother and father would be finishing their nightly prayers right about now. He gathered his bollywood dance outfit and gym clothes and headed out the door, he hoped Erik would be at the gym today. As he headed down the stairs he noticed a figure waving at him, he was about Murali's height of 5'8 and was wearing traditional indian clothing. His skin was dark and his big brown eyes gave Murali the impression that he was no threat, there was a gentleness in his smile and the clothing hid what seemed to be a fit body. As Murali got closer he recongnized the man's buzzed head and heart warming smile. The man was standing near a suitcase and his handsome face was complimented nicely with his white smile.
Murali walked over and quickly embraced the man. "It is good to see you Arman."
Arman embraced back and walked back to gaze at Murali "9 years is a long time, look at you."
"Look at you! you are so tall, when did you come here? " Murali seeing Arman up close, now stood at 6 feet 3.
" I am moving here, into the vacant apartment." Arman smiled brightly.
"Where did you fly in from? " Murali asked " My mother told me you moved."
" I flew in from Islamabad."
"That is where you went to?" Murali asked.
"Yes, Murali it looks like you are busy and I must unpack."
" I am but ..it is good to see you Arman, I must be going but I will visit you later."
"See you Murali, we can chat later." with that Arman rolled his suitcase to the land lord's office to get his key.
Murali watched him go and felt closer to home, he and Arman were childhood friends but Arman moved to Pakistan to live with an uncle. Murali walked to the gym and spotted Erik sitting outside with two coffees, Murali waved at him and Erik stood. Erik was dressed simply in a black tank and jeans. Murali quickly jogged over and Erik handed him a coffee.
" Where have ya been I already finished my work out." Erik frowned
"I am sorry I was held up." Murali smiled and sipped the coffee.
"Do ya want to go inside the gym?" Erik leaned against the wall.
" I have a better idea, do you want to come to bollywood dance with me?"
"hahaha' Erik laughed and it quickly faded "Oh you're serious."
"It will be fun just follow me." Murali waved Erik to follow and they walked down ten blocks to enter the local studio.
Murali looked at Erik's perplexed face as he gazed at the colorful decorations and the elegant saris that flowed with the dancers. With a tug Murali dragged over Erik and they entered the next room. People had already arrived and they looked in curiosity at Erik. Murali giggled and lined Erik up with the other dancers and quickly changed into his traditional clothing. When he rejoined Erik, he glanced over at Murali and smiled approval. The head dancer a woman named Nisha walked over and pulled Erik to the side. She taught him basic moves then placed him in formation. With that she turned and the music began, Murali followed the steps exactly and he gazed at Erik who looked around in confusion. Murali chuckled as he watched Erik dance with a shaky footing and his partner laughed as he danced. They danced for two hours and Erik eventually gained cohesion with the group. As the practice concluded, Erik walked over to Murali with a grimace.
" That was much more than I expected." He scratched his head and Murali laughed.
"Don't laugh too soon, I will take you firefighting and I will enjoy it." Erik smirked.
"Shall we go to dinner?" Murali asked as he packed his bags.
"Yeah, well I made ya the thing I promised. A maltese style dinner."
" A-at your house?"
"Of course, my car is a little ways from here. I'll drive ya."
They arrived at Erik's house a little more than 15 minutes later, Murali looked at the house with it's sloping tile roof and white walls. The inside was beautiful, stained glass windows faced the front door and rested on top of the back door. A crucifix hung near the door and statues of Mary sat equally spaced on a table with a gray couch at its side. Erik led Murali inside and shut the door. Murali took off his sandals and awed at the elegant decorations.
"Ya can look around if you want, I am going to set the table." Erik patted Murali's shoulder and walked to the kitchen.
Murali ran his finger on the oak table with a porcelain vase and marveled at the bookshelf with books in languages he did not understand. A cabnet with glass doors caught his eye, there were numerous photos and he noticed a few were especially interesting. The first was of a youth in uniform , it was black and white and the inscription read "Karmenu, Valletta, 1942, 23". Murali looked at Erik's grandfather and saw the hazel eyes that Erik had. The next picture was of Karmenu and a beautiful woman in a wedding dress, it was in front of a grand cathedral,it read "Karmenu u Regina, Barcelona, 1959.". The next one was of Erik's father, Erik had the same full lips and gentle eyes, the coal black hair though not curly like his father's, Erik's father was handsome as well but his eyes caught Murali's attention, one was an icy blue and the other hazel and Murali read the inscription "Massimiljanu, Valletta, 1988" Erik's mother had a face like an angel, soft green eyes and cream skin which contrasted with her husband's caramel skin. She had long hair that shined with the light and she gave Erik his smile and flawless skin, the photo read "Epifanija, Valletta, 1988". Murali set the photo down and thought about what a combination they produced and raised. Erik gained the best qualities from both of them. The last one made Murali smile, a 15 year old Erik looked back at him. He was a lighter caramel and thin, a rosary hung around his neck and he stood with his arms spread in a massive pile of snow. Murali wondered how he managed to grow so much, and he laughed at the inscription "Nazzarenu "Erik", First day in America!". As Murali closed the cabinet , Erik entered and gave a curious glance at the laughing Murali.
" Come on dinner awaits." Erik pushed Murali forward jokingly.
"It smells delicious in here." Murali said as he sat at the table.
"Maltese Kannoli and italian lasagna." Erik lifted the covers and served Murali first.
"Amazing." Murali said after he tried a piece.
" Mothers know best." Erik laughed
"You have an interesting family."
"Guess ya saw the photos then?"
"Yes, would you mind explaining them and your childhood?"
Erik took a bite and nodded " Well... my nannu Karmenu fought in the Seige of Malta in 1942, he then met my nanna Regina and they married soon after in 59 the year my father was born. My dad lived in Valletta most of his life and in 1978 he went to Spain and met my mom. They were college students and...they married in 88 and I was born a few months later. I grew up in a multilingual family like most kids in Malta. My dad spoke Catalan and Italian and my mom French and Catalan, they taught me to speak Catalan along with Italian and Maltese so I ended up being fluent in all three. My french is rusty but I can still get around. And english is a must"
"What are your parents like?"
"So many questions, surprised you are talkin alot today Murali. Huh.. well they are traditional, nationalistic, and devout catholics. My dad is a very outspoken person, smart and he used to work himself ragged so we could buy this house. My mom she is what ya call protective, always looming over me, nagging but made the best food. Always there for me ya know? both of them."
" I see" Murali felt amazed, he never expected Erik to be capable of speaking 5 languages. There was so much to learn about him.
"What about you Murali?" Erik said pointing his fork.
"What?" Murali stammered
"You asked me those questions so it is only fair you answer as well."
Murali racked his brain for an excuse but capitulated to Erik's prodding "My mom and dad both were born in New Delhi, my siblings too we grew up in a high caste so we did not have to worry much. I have a brother named Raj and two sisters named Lakshmi and Lavanya. Raj works for the U.N, Lavanya is a botanist and Lakshmi is a doctor. My parents only spoke hindi so I learned english at school. They were strict but knew when to have fun. We are all hindu and they still are in India."
Erik smiled gently and came over to Murali and gathered his plate. " I am glad you're talking more." Murali blushed at that comment.
When Erik left, Murali felt his heart pound. Erik was the man he had dreamnt of, but it would be difficult to tell him his feelings. Erik returned and Murali asked him to take him home, Erik nodded and thanked Murali for coming over.As he and erik drove Murali glanced at Erik and Erik would smile and continue driving. When they reached the complex, Erik insisted on walking Murali to his apartment. Murali thanked him and they both climbed the stairs. When they reached Murali's door , Murali turned to Erik.
"Thank you for the meal, I had a good time."
"You are welcome, good night Murali. Hope I will see you soon." Erik gave a slight wave and descended the stairs.
Murali blushed and remembered that he had to visit Arman, he walked down the hall to Arman's door and knocked. Arman opened the door slightly agitated, he was shirtless revealing his well defined abs and pecs and a towel was wrapped around his waist. He was dripping wet. Arman had become quite the stud, his dark skin had even darker nipples and his smooth chest and noticeable package were inviting. Murali gulped and shifted his thoughts.
"Oh it is you Murali." He smiled " Come in and sit I will dress and we can talk."
Murali sat on the couch and waited for several minutes, Arman came out in a black t-shirt and sweats. Arman sat next to him and looked at him intently.
"You have change much Murali." Arman said
"What do you mean by that?"
"You like that european , do you not?"
"What european?"
"The one who came with you."
"He is a friend."
"A friend that makes you blush?"
"I am shy you know that..."
"Murali, be serious we are friends. Shy? You are talkative with everyone but him. Do you like him?" Arman's face formed a frustrated expression.
"Yes.... I d-do...." Murali put his head down.
"You do not have to be ashame, it does not change our friendship." Arman placed his hand on Murali's shoulder.
"You are gay so what?" Arman smiled
"I am surprised you do not hate me."
"How could I hate you?" Arman grabbed Murali's head and rubbed his hand on his hair. " We have been friends for a long time."
"Thank you." Murali leaned against Arman's shoulder.
Arman reached over and grabbed a box. " Here, I bought this for you in Pakistan."
Murali grabbed the box and opened it, inside were two golden rings. They were luminous but simple, an inscription was written in arabic on both. Murali lifted one " What does it say?"
Arman smiled " It says protected by god, I want you to give one to that European."
Murali felt happiness " Arman, this is too much."
Arman placed his finger on Murali's lips " I insist, I have not seen you and this is how we reconnect."
Murali gave Arman a one armed hug. " I am very grateful."
" Do not be, I am your friend." with a look at the clock Arman sighed.
"Time is not a friend tonight, you should go to bed." Arman patted Murali's shoulder.
"Alright good night Arman." Murali stood and hugged Arman.
When Murali departed Arman sat with the now empty box. "Time is not a friend to me tonight, there is no reason to hate you when I am gay too." Arman closed the box and went to bed.
End of Chapter III
Chapter III is a little shorter than the last one but I promise there will be an extra long one coming soon.