Batakrishna woke up that morning with a sense of determination that he had never felt before. He had tried everything to make Mira feel his love, to get her to reciprocate, but nothing had worked. He knew what he had to do next, and he was determined to see it through. He would make her feel jealous.

As he stepped out of the house, he noticed that the weather was perfect. The sun was shining bright and the sky was a perfect shade of blue. It was a beautiful day.

"Bou... Snan e gelam... "

Batakrishna called out to her out of habit, picked up his bucket and walked towards the small closed courtyard where he usually took his bath. 7:30 am, and it had become a custom for all the women in the building to hide behind their curtains and watch him bathe. They envied Mira for having a husband like him.

Batakrishna took off his clothes, revealing his strong and muscular body. His chiseled features and broad shoulders made him look like a Greek god. Every woman in the building was secretly in love with him.

But Mira had never come out to see him. She didn't like this little routine of his. But Batakrishna was determined to change that. He had planned everything perfectly that morning. He had brought a bowl full of fresh mustard oil with him.

"Bouu... Tel makhiye daaoo... "

He called out to Mira and asked her to apply the golden oil on his back, he called out to her to massage his arms. But Mira turned red with shame at once.

"Ishh... Nije korun."
She threw the dry checked towel at him, and Batakrishna caught hold of it at once.

"Thik toh? Onno kau ke daki?"

"Dakun."

Mira hid her face in her palms and hurriedly ran away, leaving Batakrishna feeling frustrated. But that particular morning had a strange determination to it. And somehow, it wasn't letting him to deter.

"Thik ache... Dakchi tahole... " He murmured on his own and looked up to see the half visible eyes and sheathed sighes through the widows. Some gaped as he looked up, and for others, they felt their heart skip a beat.

Batakrishna sighed and looked in front.

That's when he saw Bhargavi.

"Bhargavi... Ei... Ei shon edike tui."
In a fit of rage, he called her over, startling her at first.

"Bolun."

"Ei je tel... Pithe makhiye de..."

Bhargavi felt a tremor in her heart.
"Nije korun." She looked away, murmuring the words, and it infuriated him further.

"Nijer haat gele ki aar eto daka daki kortam? Ja bolchi kor."

It suddenly had become more of a challenge to him than anything else.
How come every single soul in this earth gets to reject him!

"Didi k... "

Batakrishna didn't let Bhargavi complete her sentence, as he handed the bowl of oil on her palm and turned around.

"Didi korar hole thik e korte... O chaina, tai tui kor tor didir hoye."
He murmured in a suppressed rage and Bhargavi pouted her lower lip at his words.

"Bah re... E abar ki niyom."

Bhargavi gulped and then took a look at Batakrishna's unblemished back. His muscles formed an artistic sight.

Bhargavi's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the bowl of mustard oil. Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached Batakrishna... moving a little closer. She had never been this close to him before, and the heat emanating from his body made her feel lightheaded.

As she massaged the oil into his skin, she felt her fingers sink into the muscles on his back, feeling how hard and well-defined they were. She couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed and tensed under her touch, and the way his skin glistened in the sunlight. She could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment and excitement. She had never felt anything like it before. His body was like a work of art, chiseled and sculpted to perfection. She couldn't help but marvel at the strength and power that he exuded.

Bhargavi became lost in the moment, enjoying this little one-sided intimacy, lost inthe thrill of touching Batakrishna's body. She tried to control her thoughts and feelings, but her attraction for Batakrishna was too strong to resist.

As she worked the oil into his back, she felt a wave of desire wash over her. She tried to ignore it, but it was like a flame that she couldn't extinguish. She was completely unaware of Batakrishna's plan to incite jealousy in Mira, and was lost in her own emotions. She longed to touch him, to feel his body more, and as touch unknowingly escalated to his lower abdomen, Batakrishna held her wrist to seize her advances.

"Thak... Hoyeche... Ebar jol tol kuyo theke."

Bhargavi gulped, but followed his orders like a spellbound puppet. The scent of mustard oil had filled the air, mixing with the morning breeze, as Bhargavi continued to do his bid like a possessed soul. Batakrishna, on the other hand, was focused on his prize, his Mira. He was completely aloof of Bhargavi's feelings and didn't notice how she was getting lost in the moment.

"Kire... Taratari jol dhal mathay." He called her again.

Bhargavi watched Batakrishna's glistening body as she drew water from the well and poured it over him. The water droplets cascaded down his body, tracing his well-defined muscles and curving around his chiseled jawline. It was as if his skin was made of liquid gold, shimmering in the sun.

As she poured more water over him, her hands began to tremble. She felt a lump forming in her throat and her heart raced as she gulped nervously. She couldn't help but be drawn to him, even though she knew it was wrong.

Batakrishna, meanwhile, was completely oblivious to her inner turmoil. He basked in the attention, relishing the sensation of the cool water on his skin. With his eyes closed, he breathed deeply, allowing himself to drift away on the waves of pleasure.

As Bhargavi finished pouring the water over him, he opened his eyes and smiled. But then his eyes narrowed at Bhargavi's lost expression.

"Kire... Koi geli?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face, startling her, and unable to hold her balance on the slippery well site, Bhargavi slipped and fell.

"Ei... re... Uff... " Batakrishna had caught hold of her, sheathing her from the direct fall, as he pulled her up by her arm.
"Ki laydos kanto re baba tui." He chuckled at her, and Bhargavi pursed her lips.

"Apnar bou laydos."

"Amar bou laydos hote pare tobe or moton howa khub muskil... Bujhli? "

"Jemon?"
Bhargavi asked, rubbing her elbow, but Batakrishna chose to just smirk at her in response, meaningfully.

"Bolun... " Bhargavi felt her lips move against her will, forming words, and Batakrishna leaned a little down and hushed at her ears.

"Dhoirjo shokti."

He winked and thanked her as he wrapped the dry towel around his waist over the almost transparent soaked white dhoti. He walked back inside, leaving Bhargavi standing there, heart pounding and mind racing with emotions she couldn't yet comprehend.

"Amar O ache... Dhoirjo... Shokti." She murmured to herself unknowingly, inaudibly.