Weird Tall Fantasy
Chapter 1
Dr. Rajeswari’s narration :
My name is Dr Rajeswari. I am a Psychologist. I am 51 and divorced. However this story is not about me. If the course of the story demands, I will tell you more about myself later on.
I generally do not write about any of my patients, but I thought it is better to chronicle this particular case as it can benefit other patients who might be experiencing similar behavioural traits. I am sorry, I mentioned the word ‘patient’. I don't think that the person I would be discussing about was actually a patient. But he came to consult me with a problem which I found very unique and may be termed by many as ‘weird’.
The year was 2000. It is important to mention the year to highlight the period I am talking about. The internet had still not become popular then. In fact it was used by a privileged few who had access to computers. Laptops were few and far between. Smart phones had still not seen the order of the day. Mobile phones had come to India, but were used only by a select few who could afford the price. The mobile phone call charges too were extremely high in those days. Also, the mobile phones did not even have the camera which is a must today in every phone. So obviously our main knowledge bank of today, that is Google search, was also available to only those privileged few who had access to Computers and Internet. And even then, the depth of information available from Google was nowhere as it is in today's world. All these facts mentioned above in this paragraph have relevance to what I am going to discuss here.
Now let me come back to my story. Yes, let us treat this as a story and not as a psychological case analysis. Because frankly speaking I did not find any psychological disorder here.
So, one evening when I was in my chamber, a patient came to meet me for consultation. His appointment was at 8 pm. He had booked the 50-60 minute slot. This was my last patient of the evening. I had quite a busy day and was hoping that this consultation ends fast, so that I could finally relax. My chamber is on the ground floor of my two-storeyed house. I live on the first floor, all alone, by myself.
In walks a thorough bred gentleman. Formally dressed wearing a cream coloured office shirt neatly tucked into his deep brown trousers, well polished black shoes. Neatly combed short black hair; clean shaven; with a thick moustache, not very thick though, but well trimmed. Middle-aged gentleman, he looked around fortyish. Having a kind looking gentle face; not handsome though, rather short in size. He came and sat in front of me across my desk. I keep two comfortable chairs for my visitors in front of my table. And an adjustable recliner was kept a little beside my chair, where the patient can relax and narrate his problems.
The gentleman had wished me, “Good evening, Doctor,” as soon as he came in. I wished him back.
I started with the customary questions. “Yes Sir. May I ask some basic details about you before we start ? I know your name from your appointment registration. May I ask your age and whether you are married ? And what is your profession?”
He answered, “I am 40 and yes, I am married. I have a 6 year old daughter too. I am the Territory Manager of one of the better known Marketing companies, presently based in this city in Western India.”
I said, “Ok fine. Now if you can please tell me what is your problem ?”
The gentleman took a deep breath, but said nothing. Well, I am purposely not mentioning his actual name here, because of privacy reasons for my patients. For this story, let us call him ‘Amol’.
I could see that the gentleman was feeling uneasy to state his problem; he was hesitating. So to make him a little more relaxed, I said, “Sir, will you be comfortable sitting in this recliner here beside me ?”
He said, “No, no. I'm fine here.”
I tried to make some small talk. “Ok, we will come to your problem later. First tell me Sir, who has recommended my name to you ?”
The gentleman replied a little hesitantly, “Actually nobody. I was searching for a good Psychologist to discuss my problems with. I went around the few good Medical Centers and Clinics in this city. And then I myself decided to consult you.”
I was obviously pleased with his reply. So to draw him out more into a normal conversation with me, I further asked, “Ohh really ! It's good that you had gone into such a detailed search yourself, but what made you decide on me?”
Again a brief silence. Again hesitation from the gentleman. I was looking expectantly at his face. He was looking at my face, then lowering his eyes, then looking at me again. But he couldn't reply. After a few moments, he said, “You.”
I did not understand the meaning of his reply. So I asked, “Me ? What about me ?”
The gentleman lowered his eyes again. Then looking down at my desk, not meeting my eyes, softly replied, “Frankly, I was looking for a lady Psychologist, because I thought I would be feeling uncomfortable in sharing my problem with a male doctor. There are only a few good female Psychologists in this city. What I did was I visited all those clinics or chambers where these lady doctors had their chambers. I went a little before their visiting hours. That way I could see them entering their chambers. And that is how I decided on you.”
I was a bit taken aback with this response. I could not hide my surprise when I asked, “That means Mr. Amol, you decided on the doctor you want to consult by seeing how she looks?”
He was a little embarrassed. “No no, you are getting me wrong Doctor. I obviously checked on the qualifications and degrees first. But the specialisation degrees were mostly similar for all.”
I was still not clear what he meant by saying, “You”. So I asked again, “So then how did you decide on me by seeing the doctors’ physical appearance? If you went by looks, I am not at all good looking. I know the other lady Psychologists you might have seen. Most of them are better looking than me. And some of them are also younger. A few of them are also rather close to your age. You would relate to them better. So why did you decide on me?”
Mr. Amol was now sitting up straight in his chair. He seemed to be eager to defend his method for deciding on the doctor to consult.
He said, “But I was not looking for a young doctor with good looks. I was rather wanting a senior doctor, who will have more experience. And also the looks were not important to me, the figure was.”
I was all the more surprised, “Figure? But I don't have that lean and petite figure which men appreciate. I am one big fat tall woman. To top it all, I'm even dark complexioned.”
The gentleman smiled for the first time since he had come. He said, “Madam, it seems you have quite a negative idea about your own looks and figure. By the way, you are not dark. You may not be fair, but at least you can call yourself dusky, but not dark. And that is quite a common complexion in our tropical country. And as regards you calling yourself a big, fat, tall woman…well that is the precise reason why I have decided to consult you.”
Mr.Amol now looked a little relaxed and he was talking quite openly. That is what I was trying to do, to make him relaxed. But this time I was quite intrigued at what he was saying. I asked, “Seriously, Mr. Amol ? You decided on me because I'm this big tall woman ? Why so ?”
He was again quiet for some moments. He was fumbling for words. He said, “Doctor, I am obsessed with tall women. If she is also big in size, it's all the more better for me. And that is the problem I have come to consult you about.”
I said, “Obsessed? What do you mean by obsessed with tall women, Mr. Amol? You like tall, big women ? That's perfectly fine, it's your choice. So what is the problem there ? Why do you need to consult a specialist doctor, a Psychologist for that ?”
He went silent again. It was obvious that he was finding it difficult to express his problem. He held his head in both his hands with his elbows resting on my table. While still having his face hidden behind his palms, he said softly, “My married life is on the brink of a divorce because of this reason. We have been living in separation for almost one year.”
I was all the more confused. I said, “Mr. Amol, I just can't understand the head or tail of what you are saying. What reason are you talking about now ? Of your obsession for big tall women ?”
The gentleman did not reply, just nodded his head in affirmation.
I sat back in my chair. I said, “This is getting nowhere. See Mr. Amol, when you have come to a doctor, you must not hide anything. Especially this sort of an issue, where you are facing a marital problem. Unless you tell me clearly, I am not able to understand your problem. I think you are feeling awkward in putting your problem in words. So let me ask you specific questions. You please reply truthfully to me.”
Amol just nodded in affirmation.
I sat forward and faced him directly. “You say that you prefer big tall women. Tell me, is your wife taller than you ? What is your height and weight and your wife's ?”
Amol answered, “I am 5 feet 3 inches and 64 kgs and my wife is 5 feet 2 and a half inches and 62 kgs as of now. When we were married, she was much less in weight around 55 kgs.”
I thought that that was some vital information about this case. I however only said, “Ohh ! Ok, I will want to know why you did not marry a taller girl, when you like them tall. But first I would like to know why you specifically like big tall women ?”
Amol again looked down at the table. No reply came from him.
So I said, “Ok, I will try some other way. You said you decided on me because I am a big tall woman. Right ?”
Amol looked at me just once and nodded, “Yes.”
I stood up from my chair and came out and stood beside the table. I said, “Mr. Amol, please come and stand in front of me.”
Amol sheepishly stood up and came and stood in front of me. Now here I must mention that I am really tall for a woman and sufficiently big too. I am 5’10” tall in bare feet. That is quite tall for a woman by Indian standards. So I generally wear thin flat sandals or shoes with bare minimum soles. I am on the heavier side too with a weight of 85 to 90 kg. It fluctuates, you know, depending on whether I'm following my diet routine or not. Mostly not.
So when Amol came and stood in front of me, with his 5’3” height standing beside my 5’10” height, the top of his head was not even coming up to my chin level.
I said, “Sir, upar dekhiye…meri taraf. Look up…up to my eyes. See, I am so much taller than you. I am 5’10 on bare feet, that is 7 inches taller than you. And so much bigger than you in size too, more than 20 kgs heavier than you. Now tell me Mr. Amol, what feeling are you experiencing standing in front of me.”
I had placed my two hands on his shoulders. He was standing right in front of me, almost touching my body. He tried to move back, but the weight of my heavy hands on his small frame held him in place. He was looking up to my eyes with his head bent upwards. He said softly, “I'm feeling very small in front of you. You are so beautifully tall and big. You must also be much stronger than me.”
I smiled and said, “Sure I am. Do you want to test my strength ?”
Amol was as if in a trance, staring at my face, as if awestruck by my size, literally dwarfing him. He meekly replied, “How will I test your strength?”
I was still smiling, “You tell me how you want to do that ? Do you want to fight with me?”
He said, “No, I don't want to fight with you. If you are stronger than me, can you lift me up in your arms ?”
I laughed aloud, “Sure, that will be easy for me.”
I bent down, wrapped my hands under his bottom and stood up. It actually was very easy, he was so light. His face was now right in front of me, his feet now hanging 7 inches above the floor. I playfully dangled him a few times, right and left like a pendulum. I felt as if I were playing with my 8 year old nephew dangling him in my arms.
Amol wasn't smiling. I was not able to understand whether he was getting angry or feeling insulted or embarrassed being so easily lifted and helplessly dangled by a woman 11 years older than him.
I asked with a faint smile, “Sir, are you feeling embarrassed that a middle aged woman of 51 has lifted you, a full grown adult man of 40, in her arms and dangling you like you are a little boy ?”
His face was still serious. So I wasn't expecting his reply when he said, “No madam, I am loving it. This is my fantasy and I day dream about this.”
I held him in my arms hanging in front of me like a little boy being lifted by his mother. I said, “Ohh really Mr. Amol ? So, this is your obsession you were talking about? Of getting lifted by a big tall woman?”
He just nodded. So I continued, “So, Sir, in such a case would you mind if I talk to you about your problem, while carrying you in my arms ?”
I didn't wait for his reply and I started to walk with him. But his legs, which were dangling right in front of me, were making it difficult for me to walk.
So I said, “Your feet are hanging in front of my legs Sir. It's difficult to walk like this. Why don't you just wrap your legs around my waist, so that I can walk with you easily.”
Like an obedient school boy, Amol wrapped his legs around my waist. I put my arms under his butt to hold him up against my body. He was practically sitting on my two arms, he was so small. He was having problems placing his hands. So I told him, “Why don't you put your arms around my neck Mr. Amol.”
He put his arms around my neck, crossing them on my back. His face was now right in front of my face. I gave him a big smile. He gave me a shy smile back. I started walking slowly, holding him tightly on my breasts.
He said very softly, “Madam you are carrying me in your arms like a mother carries her small boy. Please at least do not call me Sir or Mr. Amol now. You call me by my name.”
I smiled, “Ok I will, Amol. But in that case you also do not address me as Madam or Doctor. You can call me Rajeswari or Raji, as my friends and family call me. That way it will be easier for you to talk freely with me regarding your problem.”
I was roaming around my chamber carrying him in my arms. He was holding me around my neck with his legs around my waist. He replied, “You are 11 years older than me. How can I call you by your name?”
I replied, “Ok. Then you can call me Raji didi. Or if you want you can call me Mummy too, but please don't call me Aunty.” I gave a big laugh.
This time Amol laughed too, just a little. I thought that since it is approaching closing time of 9 pm, my front desk assistant Agnes might be packing up and getting ready to leave. While still carrying Amol in my arms, I went to my table and picked up the intercom. I held Amol with one arm under his bottom and had the phone receiver on the other. As I was speaking to Agnes and giving her instructions, I unintentionally started rocking Amol in my arms. Amol couldn't say anything since I was on the phone, but I felt that he was tightly holding on to my neck lest he slip off. His legs were also tightly wrapped around my full waist. I told Agnes that this case might take a little longer. So she should wrap up, close the front door and leave by the side exit.
I kept the receiver down and looked and smiled at Amol. I then realised that all this time I was talking to Agnes, I had been rocking him slowly in my arms like a mother rocks her child.
I was standing near my table holding Amol up in my arms. I jerked him up as he had slipped a little while I held him with one hand only.
I said, “Ok Amol, I now know that your fantasy is getting lifted and carried by a big tall woman. Now tell me how this is affecting your married life ?”
What he did was totally unexpected. He hugged me tightly and put his head on my shoulder. He hid his face inside my neck and started sobbing. I didn't disturb him; I let him cry. I understood that there was a lot of pent-up emotional depression which he could not express with anybody up till now. Since I have shown him some motherly sympathy, he could not control himself.
I held him up with one hand and placed my other hand on the back of his head comforting him. He buried his face further inside my neck. I could feel that his tears were wetting the inside of my neck. I slowly walked holding him over my breasts. I was just letting him relax his nerves crying on my shoulders being carried like a small boy in his mother's arms.
Now that my secretary cum assistant Agnes has left the outer office, I opened the door and moved out in the lobby carrying Amol on my breasts.
Amol understood that I had opened my chamber door and I had walked outside my room. He immediately straightened up on my arms. His face was right in front of me again, held by me on my breasts. He looked right and left to check where he was. He held me tightly around my neck and said, “Where are you carrying me through the door ? Please put me down. Please let me go.”
I stopped and laughed. “Don't panic dear, this is my office only, the outer office. Nobody is here now, my assistant Agnes has left after locking up. I have just come to lock the door from inside.”
Amol cooled down. I carried him in my arms to the side door and bolted it from inside. “Now, we are all alone, Amol. You and me. Nobody's in the house. Now you can talk to me freely.”
(To be continued...)
