“Daddy Ji Ghar Pe Hai” : Teenage Hormones Taught Me the Art of Sneaking In

Love and Sex

“Daddy Ji Ghar Pe Hai” : Teenage Hormones Taught Me the Art of Sneaking In

Illustration: Ahmed Sikander

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ike a lot of young people, junior college was when my friends and I discovered the joys of intimacy. Our group of hormonal teenagers swiftly paired up, sacrificing themselves at the altar of puppy love. As boisterous young ’uns, we’d also become immune to getting caught holding hands in class and being reprimanded for canoodling on campus. Then again, our “campus” was an unremarkable commercial building in the middle of a bustling suburb, just like every other educational institute in Mumbai.

Navigating our new love lives in this dearth of space also meant that we made the most of every shred of privacy we could manufacture. The bushes at Joggers’ Park were prized spots (though almost always occupied) as were dimly lit sheesha bars, backseats of friends’ cars, kaali-peelis, and even wobbly rickshaws. But getting it on in an empty house? That was like manna from heaven.  

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