The Third Time (Bedsheets from MG Road)
CONTENT WARNING / AUTHOR’S NOTE: For mature audiences (18+) only. Contains explicit sexual content, strong language, drug use, sexual assault, and themes of discrimination.
This work uses sexuality, satire, and provocation to explore cultural hypocrisy, gender inequality, and privilege. It approaches sensitive aspects of Indian culture and society through artistic expression, with no intention to offend, disrespect, or generalize any community, religion, or cultural tradition. The characters’ views do not necessarily reflect those of the author.
Prologue — A Preface of Quotes
“Some women do not masturbate for pleasure; they masturbate to make a political statement: to remind us that women do not really need men (or at least not as much and as frequently as every single male chauvinist and every single misogynist believes).” — Mokokoma Mokhonoana, On Masturbation: A Satirical Essay
“You can’t have moral freedom without religious freedom,” said Dabhoiwala. “Any kind of fundamentalism … that presumes that moral values are absolute is incompatible with individual sexual freedom.” — Faramerz Dabhoiwala, author of The Origins of Sex
“Results from this analysis suggest that economics are strongly associated with sexual wellbeing, with indications that financial scarcity may reduce sexual satisfaction, orgasm, and overall functioning. These results remind us that structural constraints affect sexual bodies. While findings are cross‐sectional, possible pathways to these inequities could include poverty’s emotional and physical taxes on bodies and cognition, as well as weathering related to economic stress and discrimination, which are likely to thwart sexual flourishing. To support and promote positive sexual health, the public health field must continue to focus on economic reform and poverty reduction as a critical aspect of helping people achieve their full health and wellbeing potential.” — Study on sex, poverty, and public health
PART I: The Celibacy Era
“Actually, I’m fully in my celibacy era now. I just got tired of giving all my energy to all these fucking Indian men, yaar.”
It had been barely two hours since Meghna had stepped into Naeema’s apartment on a cool November night in Bangalore.
And it had only been four hours since her long journey from Los Angeles had finally ended and led her to Naeema’s place on a busy Friday evening in Indira Nagar.
She was still jetlagged and exhausted, but the glass of chai and the comfy couch were giving her respite.
And it was nice seeing Naeema after so long.
“No, I totally get that,” responded Meghna, a bit hesitantly, as she took a sip from the steaming hot glass of chai.
“Well, you don’t sound convinced. Don’t tell me your sex life is actually thriving? I thought Americans had stopped hooking up and all that,” laughed Naeema, as she sipped from a glass of cold water.
“I don’t know, I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone. Like, anyone at all. Sex with South Asian boys in LA really doesn’t make anything easy. If a white girl goes out wearing something sexy, she’s hot, but if I do it, they’ll label me a slut.”
“Are all the Indian guys from America still super conservative?” responded Naeema, as she reached for a lighter and began sparking up her second blunt for the day.
“Eh, it’s not that, just hard to… make casual connections… I guess, in general. They only want an Indian girl if they can take her back to Mommy,” said Meghna, as she finished up her chai.
Naeema offered the blunt to Meghna with a smile. Meghna studied the blunt, laughed, and took a quick drag.
“Fuck, dude, y’all get that prime weed in India, don’t you?” mustered Meghna, as she laughed through a few coughs.
“Now you’re living it up Bengaluru style, my machi. My guy on MG Road always hooks me up with the good shit,” said Naeema, as Meghna continued laughing.
As she laughed, Meghna started feeling a bit more relaxed. The journey had been long, but she hadn’t seen Naeema since they had both wrapped up grad school in LA.
Since then, both women had taken different paths. Wildly different paths.
Meghna stayed in LA, where she had grown up, and continued pursuing acting while keeping up her day job in data science.
Naeema, on the other hand, had gone back home to Bangalore and tried to hold onto her day job in Human Resources at a tech company. What fewer people knew, except for her closest friends, was that her sex column had just started taking off on Substack.
Both girls took a moment to take a few good puffs and stare at the ceiling fan for a bit.
“How’s the column coming along?” asked Meghna.
“It’s going well… you know, I never thought I’d get so many followers talking about sex in this country, but you’d be surprised that most of the questions I get aren’t from cities like this. They come from the tiniest villages in rural India…”
Meghna looked at Naeema with a bit of concern as she continued smoking.
“You ever get scared talking about that stuff on the Internet? Ever afraid someone will come after you? Especially people from villages, you know… they might not take kindly to a city girl talking about sex.”
Naeema gave a half-smile and then started typing on her phone, before bringing it up to Meghna.
“You recognize this girl?”
“Umaira Jaafrey? Yeah, I see her Reels on Instagram. She’s the girl who wears all those outfits that scandalize everyone?” said Meghna with a laugh.
“Since I saw Umaira wear the stuff she did in public, I haven’t been the same. My brain chemistry has been permanently altered.”
“Yeah?”
“She is just fucking cool, man. Those outfits she wears, then standing in front of paparazzi, just full confidence… after seeing her, I just stopped giving a fuck, you know?”
“Just be careful, Naeema. I mean, just what I hear about the climate here, with censorship, and rape culture… and…”
Naeema looked at Meghna and gave a hearty laugh, and then squeezed her face playfully and simply said:
“You’re so cute, Meghna. So innocent.”
PART II: The Nineties
A few hours later, the two girls started changing for a night out on the town.
“You’re sure you’re not too tired, right, Meghna? I mean, it was a long journey and everything…”
“No, I mean, I think I’ll be fine… just gonna follow your lead, to be honest. You’re the expert,” responded Meghna assuredly.
“Hey, can you help zip up my dress?” said Naeema.
Meghna came up behind her and started working on the zipper.
She came up close behind her, worked her fingers on the zipper, and slowly took it up Naeema’s back.
She thought about the moments the two had shared back in LA.
She thought about how it felt when Naeema had last touched her.
That electrifying feeling.
“You know what was my favorite part of the two years I spent in LA?” asked Naeema, interrupting Meghna’s thoughts.
“What was that?”
Naeema turned around as Meghna finished up the last of the zipper on the dress.
“My favorite part was… the freedom to fuck whoever I wanted to fuck. And not have to feel afraid about it. My sex life in America was literally amazing. Remember that night we went out in the Hollywood Hills and… oh my God, what was that guy’s name? The one who always wore the red jacket?”
“Jake?”
“Jake! Yes, of course, machi, Jake Kowalski! He said something so funny once. I remember one night, he kept telling me how my brown skin was so beautiful and turning him on, and then when we finished having sex, he asked me if I orgasmed too… I laughed so hard… no guy had ever asked me that before. It was so cute. White boys in LA were so cute.”
About half an hour later, the two girls got in an elevator, and Naeema started calling an Uber. In the elevator, an elderly woman got in with her two grandkids and shot the two girls a look as she looked up and down their dresses.
“Salaam ailakum, Aunty, how are you? Kaise ho aap?” asked Naeema.
The aunty didn’t respond, and Naeema rolled her eyes at Meghna, and they both shared a laugh as the aunty got out of the elevator with the two kids in a hurry.
After braving the elements of Bangalore traffic, they finally reached one of the best cocktails in all of Bengaluru.
Naeema came in and immediately waved down her group of friends, all of whom worked at the same company she did.
“Guys, guys… meet Meghna, my friend from LA. Meghna, this is Lara, Ananya, Arjun, and Naseer.”
As the night continued, the group drank, smoked, and danced. Cocktails flowed and poured from glass to glass, and as the night wore into the late hours, Meghna started getting closer to Arjun.
Unlike the boys she had met back at home, Arjun had confidence. False confidence, but it was refreshing to see a brown boy who just wanted to fool around. And nothing else.
He led her by the hand into the bathroom and they both started making out.
“Hey, hey… you have protection, right?” she asked, as she peeled away for an instant.
“Yeah, I have condoms back at my apartment. You want to get out of here?”
Meghna thought back suddenly to one of Naeema’s sex columns. It was called “Finding Self-Pleasure in the Era of Gen Z Loneliness.”
She thought about how it was the first time she had seen a brown girl talk about masturbation on the Internet.
Then she thought about Umaira Jaafrey.
And she thought about all the clothes she saw the girls wearing at this bar in Bangalore.
All the clothes she had never been confident enough to wear as a brown girl back in LA.
How Arjun had grown up around brown girls wearing what they want. All around him. Rich brown girls who had never been burdened by parents who had dress codes stuck in the 1990s.
“So, you wanna get out of here?” asked Arjun again.
“Will you ask me if I finished, or can I just fake it, and we move on…” she responded slyly.
“With me, you won’t have to fake it, baby…”
Meghna kissed him again, and they headed out of the bar.
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She knew she would definitely have to fake it.
And she was glad to know he would never bother to ask.
PART III: Paparazzi and Billboards
The next morning, after spending the night with Arjun, Meghna opened her phone and saw Naeema’s new column, called “How Having Sex in America Changed My Perceptions on Sex in India.”
Arjun rolled over in bed and looked at Meghna longingly.
“I told you that you wouldn’t have to fake it. I could tell last night was 100% real. I thought my neighbors would hear us,” he chuckled.
Meghna smiled and kissed Arjun again before he started to get up to take a shower. She rolled back into bed and started rereading Naeema’s column about self-pleasure.
As she read the column, she took out her vibrator and started to think about Naeema, as she read her words.
She finally finished and let a real, unfiltered moan take over her.
As she came down the elevator from Arjun’s apartment, a young girl looked at Meghna and stared at the clothes she was wearing. Meghna smiled and gave the girl a wave, and the young girl smiled and waved back.
As she came out of the apartment building, she could swear she heard the camera shutters of the paparazzi, yelling, “Meghna! Meghna! Meghna, over here, please!!!!”
But when she looked up, there were no paparazzi, just one man, a laborer, staring at her clothes.
Meghna stared back at the laborer, took out one of the blunts she had gotten from Naeema, lit it up, and puffed out the smoke as the man broke eye contact.
And he started staring at the model on the billboard above her.
She went up to the man and then handed a blunt to him, and he looked confused but finally took it.
He squatted down, and she lit his drag as she began squatting down too. They looked at the model on the billboard together as they smoked.
The model was fair-skinned, scantily clad, and making an orgasmic face as she ate a dark brown chocolate bar.
She looked at the laborer and spoke to him in English:
“Are you from a village?”
The laborer looked her up and down but said nothing.
“Do you read Substack? Do you have any questions about how having sex in America changed my perceptions on sex in India?” she laughed as she took another drag.
The man responded in broken English, “You very hot, very beautiful. Like Umaira, Bollywood star. One photo, I want to take one photo of you.”
He suddenly started lurching towards Meghna and started groping her.
She suddenly got up from her squat, shoved the man, and yelled at him:
“Motherfucking piece of shit, just fucking smoke the shit I gave you. Fucking uneducated Indian villagers. Fucking rapists.”
PART IV: Culture Clash
Meghna finally got back home and spent the night smoking with Naeema. They puffed the morning and evening away, until Naeema finally suggested that they go out again.
As they got ready to go out again, Naeema suddenly looked at Meghna and gave her a stern warning.
“Stop trying to fuck Arjun. I know you can tell I like him,” she said.
“You can like him, Naeema. I don’t understand why you have such a problem if I have sex with him,” responded Meghna.
“You know, those brown boys who call you Indian-American girls sluts… maybe they’re right. Keep your hands off our Indian men. This isn’t our culture,” responded Naeema, more sternly.
“Our men, our culture?” chuckled Meghna. “Damn, you can write a billion sex columns about touching yourself in America Naeema, but you Indians still believe that same old regressive garbage anyway. “Arjun Weds Naeema.’ I’ve heard weddings like that make a good headline around here.”
“Are you finished? Are you done?” yelled Naeema.
Meghna stared at Naeema for a bit, noticed how her cheeks had gone red, and looked at her still-unzipped dress.
“Come here, Naeema…”
Naeema walked over to Meghna cautiously.
As the two women got close, Meghna slowly brought her finger to the zip of the dress.
“Do you want to stay in and fool around?” asked Meghna, as she puffed out smoke.
Naeema looked at Meghna for a while, gave a scorn, but then began to soften as she began to remember the night they had once sent in LA.
“Yes…” responded Naeema.
Meghna reached for Naeema’s hand and they interlocked fingers. She kissed her neck as Naeema began to moan. She moved her hand slowly down into her crotch and started touching her.
Naeema finally let go and started moaning louder now.
“Your skin, fucking brown Indian skin, turns me on so much… you’re a such good Indian girl…” whispered Meghna in her American accent as she moaned.
“Yes, yes… I see you, baby… you are such a bad American girl… I wanna see all of you…” responded Naeema.
After a few minutes, they both finished at the same time and fell into bed.
Naeema looked at Meghna and began taking off her clothes. “Come here and fuck me properly now, machi”.
PART V: Daughter-In-Law
The next morning, Naeema and Meghna woke up together in bed when they heard a knock on the door. They both put on their clothes and opened it, only to find the aunty from the elevator.
The aunty looked at both of them, and upon seeing them sweaty and disheveled from the night before, smiled and said:
“You girls are always so good at exercising, dieting. Here, take some sweets. My daughter-in-law just had a baby.”
Meghna and Naeema looked at each other, took the sweets, and began to close the door.
In the distance, they could see the aunty’s son looking them both up and down as he held his newborn and stood next to his wife, who was covered in a veil.
He stared them down until they finally shut the door.
Without saying a single word, Naeema took off her clothes again and got back into the bed.
Meghna looked at the box of sweets by the table and asked Naeema:
“Can you go down on me?”
As Naeema obliged, Meghna began imagining herself as the aunty’s daughter-in-law and Naeema as her husband, and began to orgasm.
Her moans grew louder as Naeema kept pleasuring her.
PART VI: The Third Time
Meanwhile, just miles away, the laborer that Meghna had met near the billboard finished having sex with his wife in bed and went to go urinate in the field.
He opened his phone and looked up photos of white celebrities and began pleasuring himself.
He ejaculated into the field while his wife got up, got dressed, and started the daily chores.
It was her third time having had sex that week but she hadn’t orgasmed even once.
She left her house and headed to Naeema’s apartment, where Meghna was getting ready to leave, and began sweeping the floor as she normally did.
As she worked, she noticed Meghna’s vibrator on Naeema’s desk.
She tried to take it off the desk to inspect it further, but before she could, Meghna and Naeema walked into the room.
Naeema smiled at her househelp and asked -
“Aunty, you need to come a third time this week. The house needs cleaning and the bed is messy,” she chuckled as she shot a sexy look at Meghna.
The next day, the housemaid came for a third time, and cleaned up Naeema’s sweat-covered bed.
As she folded the warm and wet linen, for the first time in a long time, she felt sexual excitement within her.
As she went outside with the dirty sheets, the aunty’s son cornered the housemaid -
“Are you still working at that fucking Muslim girl’s apartment? From now on, stop going there. No need to work for people like her. The apartment administration is reassigning you to my place,” he said.
The housemaid nodded as the man stared at her and began to grope her. She pushed his hand away and walked away uncomfortably.
When she finally reached home, and she and her husband got ready for bed, she took off her clothes and initiated sex with him for the first time.
Before he could even touch her, she got him to finish and made him slumber away.
With him snoring next to her, the housemaid thought about Naeema’s sheets and how they were drenched in sweat. For a second, she felt like acting upon her desires, to touch her body, to feel something.
But as her husband snored away, and the lights from the tall buildings blinded her in the room, she decided to go to bed.
