My latest book is The One Who Swam With The Fishes.
"A mesmerizing account of the well-known story of Matsyagandha ... and her transformation from fisherman’s daughter to Satyavati, Santanu’s royal consort and the Mother/Progenitor of the Kuru clan." - Hindustan Times
"Themes of fate, morality and power overlay a subtle and essential feminism to make this lyrical book a must-read. If this is Madhavan’s first book in the Girls from the Mahabharata series, there is much to look forward to in the months to come." - Open Magazine
"A gleeful dollop of Blytonian magic ... Reddy Madhavan is also able to tackle some fairly sensitive subjects such as identity, the love of and karmic ties with parents, adoption, the first sexual encounter, loneliness, and my favourite, feminist rage." - Scroll
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24 October 2006
Sex toys, Fun With (subtitled: the post that made even ME blush crimson hues)
I have debated about putting this post up into a public domain. I mean, toys, the way they're used are really just for me. And my personal pleasure. Buuuuuuut, sometimes I need to step out of my comfort zones, to reveal just a little bit more into the internet, to sort of like bungee jump, you know? Or do a strip tease. Like the more vulnerable I am, ironically, the stronger I will be. Anyway. Whatever the reason, this post is about my new favourite thing.
Sex is fun, sure, but if you're at a certain stage in your life and/or you're a little bit picky about who you allow to see you naked, there's only so much action you can get anyway. And though (whisper) masturbation (unwhisper) is something everyone does and no one talks about, it just makes you feel sadder and lonelier and a little bit more like a loser, if your Saturday night involves a Bacardi breezer and Anais Nin. It's a little bit closer to admitting to old age and death and the fact that eventually you're going to be huge and obese and your butt cheeks are going to meld into your leather arm chair and they will find you, with Cheetos spilt everywhere, an inquisitive cockroach on your nose, dead, with your mouth hanging open and your underwear around your knees.
I bet everyone has a 'first time experimenting' story. The first time you realised ooooooooh-if-I-touch-THAT-I'm-exploding. And then, with the years and the abstinence, you perfect what moves work best for you. Hand showers, for some people. Sitting up for others. That sort of thing. Sometimes, if you're REALLY lucky, you find someone who likes the same sort of stuff, who knows what buttons you push to make yourself feel excellent, and give you a little help. Why is it okay, well, not okay, but okay-ER, to write about sex but people think writing about masturbation is like risque and not something you mention? I mean, I know very few people who admit to like doing stuff, although they lay on the deets about their sex lives. Hmmm. And mainly women too, they seem to think it's DIRTY somehow to get pleasure and doing it on their own? Oh, I would never do that. Bullshit. You would think though, that you'd admit to masturbating (and even I, fully of hypocrisy, cannot write this word without blushing deeply) over sleeping with many people, because hell, at least you're disease free. And it may not clean up your SKIN or anything, but it will make you happy. Like a cup of coffee.
Toys, though, have never been my cup of tea. I improvise with other people, this ONE time, I had access to a whip, I flourished it with great glee, cracking it over my head and almost took my by-then-not-so-willing partner's eye out. Then he took away the whip. Damn. I was having such a GOOD time, too. Handcuffs, meh, though they've always fascinated me are a little bit scary, I once saw this Baywatch episode, where this chick tells the guy, "Kiss me underwater," and when he goes into the pool to do that, she handcuffs him to the railing of the pool and leaves him there TO DIE. This is clearly what happens when you use handcuffs. Dangerous things. I was fourteen, and scarred for life, I tell you. And THEN, I read this one Stephen King, I forget which one, where this guy ties up this woman and he's getting too aggro, right? So she kicks at him, only she kicks at one of those spots they keep telling you about in self-defence class, you know, the ones that can kill you? And he dies and she's still handcuffed to the bedpost and then this DOG comes in and starts eating the corpse and she can't get free and oh, HANDCUFFS are BAD. Blindfolds are good fun, and they don't require too much preparation either, you can just use any old thing. Gags, I would not recommend (see handcuff reasoning above). But while I'm all for the imagination, at the end of the day, plain vanilla just appeals to me way more than anything else. Which is why I was not a full on vibrator supporter. Why spend money when you can do it on your own, she asked sensibly.
But then, Ragini returned from the UK bearing presents and she got me mine, demurely wrapped up, hissing, "Don't show this to your mom, or mine!" and when I unwrapped it, there was this red box with a cutesy little red girl devil on it, looking over her shoulder and smiling. And when I opened THAT, there was this thing--looking like, well, you know, only white! With sparkles! I love the sparkles. "I couldn't find pink or purple," Ragini told me regretfully, "And this is only a very basic one." "I like the white," I assured her, "I think it goes with my virginal type soul." And basic or not, duuuuuuuude. Fucking hell.
It's called the Rabbit, apparently, made famous by Sex and The City and known so because right underneath, you know, the thing, is something shaped vaguely like a fork, only with only two, very small, round tines, which look a little like rabbit ears, but are actually, well, you know. It's not very large, only about the size of my hand, from the tip of my middle finger to the base of my palm, but since I don't use it for (again) you know, it's all good.
And while I wait for the blood supply to leave my face and start moving normally again, tra la. I recommend one to everybody, because there's nothing like multiples right before you go to sleep. I mean, it's one of the cool things about being a woman, right? Like one of our advantages, etc.
Also, yeah, if you know me in real life and you bring this up, I have noooooooo idea what you're talking about. Indian girls don't masturbate.