Can Berlin Monroe's capitalism conquer Tigy Kora's fascism????
A clash of titans-  Berlin Monroe’s capitalism Vs Tigy Kunju Mathai’s  fascism!!!

Once upon a time in Southern Malabar there was a village called Vallayoor. The village was surrounded by beautiful mountains of Krishnagiri and was rich with rivers and streams. There was little transportation since the terrain was very difficult, so the village was virtually cut off from the outside world.

Vallayoor was a village lost in time…

Ramanan Kartha was the king of Vallayoor. He was a thin, long-haired, long-faced king for namesake. Ramanan Kartha’s wife Ramani Kartha  was was the real terror and the absolute ruler of Vallayoor. She held the reins of power and steered the administration form their Palace in the Kurumbi Mala (Naughty Mountain). Now this was the case with the entire village. Woman just ruled the place. From deciding the menu for breakfast to the construction of check dams, their decisions were ultimate. Men were just meek spectators and no one dared to say a word against the womenfolk.

But a few decades back the situation was the opposite. Men were the bread earners and had the supreme authority in Vallayoor. Even the name of their village was not Vallayoor (Valla- means Bangles, oor- means village). But since Ramani Kartha became their queen, as if by magic women took men’s position and vice versa overnight. The people even forgot the real name of the village. Then since woman wearing bangles ruled the place, it was called Vallayoor.

Even though men got accustomed to their new feminine ways of life, the raw wounds of oppression still burned. There was longing for power and thirst for authority. But any one who expressed his desire for change had his manhood cut and fed to the fishes of Kunjipuzha (little river).

A day in the village would begin with daughters crying for breakfast and fathers preparing it for them. If the breakfast was not up to the mark, mothers would slap the fathers and ask them to make it again. Daughters were given extra idllis whereas the sons were neglected. Women would go out and do all the otherwise manly work. Only girl children were sent to school and boys were forced to clean utensils, broom the courtyards and wash cloths.  If a woman felt like mounting a man of her choice, she would do so. If the poor soul did not oblige, she was free to rape him. Men squirmed and shrieked under the heavy thighs and breasts of powerful women in the village.

In granarys, behind bushes, in odd huts and isolated river banks, men were made to drink their own soup. There was free sex allowed for women but not for men. Every right for women were protected…at the same time, over the decades men became oppressed. They became weak…sad and started forgetting that they were MEN. Even the king started having second thoughts as to what really means to be a ‘MAN’.

The only luxury allowed for men were toddy and cards. They can drink but not too much. if a man came home in four legs, he was bound to get beaten and kicked out. But only in the toddy shop they complained about their problems and that to in hushed whispers.

Even butterflies could be spies in Vallayoor and if the news of dissidence reached the Queen…there won’t be a single cock left in the village to give a fuck… 😦

In this fashion days followed months which in turn followed years.

That was when Tigy Kunju Mathai, a dry fruit merchant accidentally lost his way and came rolling in his bullock cart to Vallayoor. He had headed for Mysore, but a cruel storm tormented the forest the previous night, his bulls lost the route.

Aimlessly Tigy wandered in the forest seeking the road and comfort of seeing humanity. He had almost given up hope of finding a village and that’s when he saw smoke raising from the far off. Tigy beat his bulls left, right and centre to make them run faster in the direction of the smoke. His aim was to get some warmth by a fire, tend to his tired bulls and get some refreshment. Tigy wanted to enquire the correct route towards Mysore and if lucky bed a woman for a day by shelling out a few coins from his purse. He smiled at the thought of savouring the village wench and licked his lips.

But morning was just taking baby steps and there was hardly anyone in front of the huts when Tigy entered the village. Odd skinny boys were cleaning the courtyards with eerkal chool (brooms made of twigs from coconut leaves). Tigy found it strange seeing boys busy doing a girl’s duty.

“What a strange village? Am I in some other planet…?” Tigy wondered slapping his own face.

Since he could not find an adult soul in the roads, he kept riding his bullock cart through the village. After fifteen minutes, he reached a dead end. To his left was a beautiful river with the bright orange sun raising majestically over it. And to his front and right was just thick dark forest.

Looking at the pristine river suddenly Tigy felt very thirsty and jumped down from the bullock cart.  He walked towards the river to take a better look at it.

Tigy Kunju Mathai, was almost 6 feet tall, with short wavy hair and a pencil moustache under his beak-like nose. He had wooden beams for arms, logs for legs and barrels for a chest. His tummy wobbled as he walked barefooted over the massive polished stones, smoothed by water running over them for years. A cool breeze gushed from east, pinning his cloths to his body. His brown skin and cat like eyes glowed under the vibrant rays of the sun.

As Tigy reached the banks of the river and suddenly stood still. As if he had been turned to a statue by some magic,he gaped at the sight that awaited him with bewilderment and disbelief. There, just 50 meters away in those glistening waters was a beauty like he had never seen before. Her hair was as black as a moonless night and her skin shone like burning ambers. Her eyes were clearly a work of god and her body summed up in divine proportions. Tigy lost all his control but there was nothing he could do but keep watching her.

The beauty swam towards him and stood her ground as soon as the water got shallow. The woman was still oblivious to the fact that a man was standing there and watching her. But Tigy’s heart banged against his chest at an incredible speed and blood gushed to his extremities even faster. He licked his lips in hunger when he saw her smooth black grapes seductively smiling at him.

Not once did the beautiful woman raise her head as she walked towards where Tigy stood. Only when she reached very close to him did Tigy realize that he was standing near her cloths.

The woman looked up for the first time and shrieked in anger. Tigy was jolted from the spell and stumbled back over the rubble. He looked around and there was no one. What was more shocking was that the women simply seemed to stare at him, anger shimmering in her eyes. She did not even bother to cover herself.

Tigy regained his composure and asked her:

“Wha…wha…why are you here alone at this time…??

To that she replied:

“Who the hell are you to ask me that? And why the fuck are you standing in front of me? That too alone…at this time of the day?”

Tigy was taken aback by the answer that only men dared to give. He got a bit confused and watched the woman closely. She had a perfect body, flawless skin, cascading hair, a beautiful bushy triangle decorating the junction between her thighs and what more, she did not have any shame. She was gorgeous from head to the tip of her toe.

“This is Vallayoor man…here woman walk alone and men dare not challenge….” she went on.

Tigy’s thoughts flapped their wings towards seventh heaven. He grew confident by the minute and assured himself that this was the village wench (prostitute).

“If the village wench is this beautiful…what about other women in this village?” he thought aloud.

“What is it that you said just now?” the woman asked raising her voice as she took her cloths and started wearing them casually.

“How much…?” Tigy asked her as he walked towards her

“What do you mean by “How much“..?” the beautiful woman asked him

Tigy now stood really close to her and asked her one last time:

“How much do you charge to warm a bed honey…?”

“Fuck you bastard…” she seethed and raised her right hand to slap Tigy.

That’s when he lost all his cool. Just before her palm touched his cheek, Tigy firmly held her hand. They looked at each other for moments that spilled into eternity.

Then without a warning Tigy kissed her wet,soft, pink lips. She pulled away from him but before she opened her mouth to shriek, he covered it with his massive palms. Tigy tightened his grip and lifted her off the ground. She kept beating against his chest and head as he carried her towards the nearest thicket. Still covering her mouth, Tigy laid her over the grass. Then he tore her cloths, forced her thighs apart and entered her. After a few strokes he understood that she was not crying any more but moaning. He slowly removed his palms from her mouth. Then he kissed her lips again and again till he came. Both of them moaned, roared and cried as they together reached the pinnacle of pleasures.

Quickly the woman pushed Tigy away from her body and ran away gathering her torn cloths. Tigy looked at the green canopy of the Forest with the grim satisfaction of fucking the village whore. Little did he know that he had just raped the queen of Vallayoor.

As soon as Rani Ramani reached her Anthapura (queens room), she hanged herself and committed suicide. Not because she was raped, but because of the sheer humiliation of having an orgasm when she was raped by Tigy

The news of rape and subsequent suicide of Rani Ramani spread like wildfire in the village. It was as if a civil war would erupt any moment in the streets. Men in thousands danced in the fields, jumped hysterically into the river and ponds and many rolled in mud over the temple grounds of the village. Dust of freedom and salvation rose from the earth covering the sky.


To know that –>CLICK HERE<–

The Author of this blog is Srinath Krishnamoorthy who like millions out there is trying to figure out what needs to be done with life. After bidding good bye to an eventful software career that spanned just 3 small years, he right now breaking his head working on his MTech thesis. It also comes as a surprise that in his lunatic quest for
The Author of this blog is Srinath Krishnamoorthy who like millions out there is trying to figure out what needs to be done with life. After bidding good bye to an eventful software career that spanned just 3 small years, he right now breaking his head working on his MTech thesis. It also comes as a surprise that in his lunatic quest for “figuring out life” he ended up writing a novel “Hope We Never Meet Again” which will be coming out soon…how soon only god knows!!!


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