Dear Readers, this story is a continuation of the first part.
The Tall Professor 2
Just to remind and put the perspective in place :
Main Characters:
Dr. Priya, 53 years old
5'10", 88 kg
Head of the English Literature Department
Elegant, commanding, warm-hearted, and deceptively playful beneath her scholarly grace
Mr. Anirudh, 38 years old
5'3", 63 kg
Newly appointed college librarian
Quiet, meticulous, bookish, and easily flustered by attention — especially from Priya
The Great Shantipath Women’s Lifting Festival :
It began with a flyer — hand-drawn, pinned to trees and teashops:
🪔 First Annual Lifting Festival – Shantipath Village 🪔
Women of strength, unite! Who will carry the pride of our village?
Main Event:
The "Librarian Lift Showdown" – winner gets to carry Anirudh Sir!
Hosted by: Shantipath Women’s Lifting Club.
President: Dr. Priya Sinha 💪
Anirudh was shocked when he saw the poster.
“Priya, what is this?! You’re putting me up as the prize?!”
Priya calmly adjusted her sari pallu and replied, “Don’t be dramatic. You’re not the prize. You’re… a symbol of tradition and trust.”
“I am being lifted by strangers for sport!”
She grinned. “Isn’t it romantic?”
The Festival Begins…
By afternoon, the village field was alive with colors and noise. Women of all ages — from muscular young farmers to silver-haired grandmothers — arrived in groups, many in saris tied high for movement.
There were stalls selling samosas, jalebis and lemonade. Loudspeakers played folk songs. Children ran about with signs saying “Go Didi !” and “Team Priya!”
And at the center of it all stood Anirudh, seated nervously on a decorated charpai — like a nervous groom awaiting physical embarrassment.
Priya stood beside him, arms crossed, cool as ever.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“I feel like a goat at a village fair.”
“A very adorable goat,” she said, patting his cheek.
The Challenges Begin:
In the final round three women qualified amongst 17 participants:
1. The Farmer’s daughter– Rekha (19)
She rushed forward, lifted Anirudh in a textbook fireman’s carry and jogged in circles, laughing as the crowd cheered.
“Careful, you are just 19. I'm double your age !” he yelped, bouncing on her shoulder.
“But you feel like a little girl in my arms!” she winked at me with a naughty smile.
2. The Postman’s wife – Mrs. Kanta (49)
Kanta Aunty adjusted her knee brace, then calmly lifted Anirudh in a tight cradle.
“Posture and breath control,” she said proudly, walking with slow grace.
He stared at her in shock. “You are 11 years older than me. How are you this strong?!”
“Because you are so small and cute, beta.” She laughed heartily.
The Final Showdown: Pushpa vs. Priya.
Then came Pushpa, the school PT teacher, a gym enthusiast (45) — thin but wiry, with strong arms and a wicked glint in her eye.
“Let’s see if Priya madam’s boy really can’t be taken,” she challenged.
Anirudh gasped. “Wait, what?!”
With surprising speed, Pushpa grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him into a kangaroo carry, bouncing him lightly as the crowd went wild.
“You are lighter than my 10 year old daughter,” she declared.
He was horrified, yet slightly impressed.
But then—
“Enough,” came Priya’s calm voice.
She strode forward, graceful and solid.
“With due respect, Pushpa,” she smiled, “he’s mine.”
And in one smooth motion, Priya scooped him out of Pushpa’s arms, holding him high in a glorious bridal carry. Anirudh panicked. He threw his arms around her neck.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
“Shantipath’s Champion!”
“Long live Priya Didi!”
“And her little bookworm dulha!”
After the Festival..
As night fell, Anirudh sat in Priya’s lap on a charpai, exhausted and limp.
“How many people carried me today?”
“Seventeen,” Priya replied, massaging his feet.
“That’s… criminal.”
“You’re village property now,” she teased.
He looked at her, slightly teary-eyed. “You really weren’t going to let anyone else win, were you?”
She leaned down, kissing his forehead gently.
“Never. You’re my soft-spoken, grumpy little treasure.”
“No Walking Allowed” – The Romance Deepens…Priya has announced that Anirudh should not walk and waste his energy.
It was a quiet Monday morning. Birds chirped, children rushed off to school, and Shantipath’s central path buzzed with lazy village life.
Except for one moment of panic.
“HE’S WALKING!”
Anirudh had dared to take six small steps from the post office toward the school library.
Within seconds, three women rushed toward him like a fire brigade.
“No, no, Sir! Why would you risk your delicate feet like this?”
“What if you trip? The village would never forgive us!”
“Let us carry you, please!”
Before he could argue, he was lifted sideways by a milkmaid named Jaya, who nestled him against her hip like a sleepy toddler and started walking toward the library.
Anirudh blushed furiously.
“This is ridiculous. I’m a grown man and you are a woman !”
“Yes, a very lightweight grown man,” Jaya smiled.
And behind them, two more women followed, hoping for their turn to carry him next time.
Priya Finds Out.
When Priya saw Anirudh being carried through the courtyard—this time by Rupa Aunty (age 52) who was carrying him like a basket of mangoes—she froze mid-conversation with the school principal.
“Excuse me,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
She marched forward, arms folded.
“Aunty,” Priya said politely, “I think I can take it from here.”
Rupa Aunty beamed. “Of course, beta! Just keeping him safe!”
And then, in full public view, Priya took Anirudh into a tight bridal carry, glaring into his eyes with mock irritation.
“How many times do I have to say this? If anyone’s going to carry you in public—it’s going to be me.”
Anirudh, red-faced and dizzy from all the lifts, just mumbled,
“You need to start issuing ID cards to your arms…”
Evening Romance: Just the Two of Them.
That night, Priya took Anirudh on a long, quiet walk through the fields.
Except… he didn’t walk.
She carried him.
At first, he protested. “I can walk, you know…”
“Yes,” she smiled, shifting him into a chest-to-chest hug lift, “but why should you?”
The moonlight bathed the path. Fireflies hovered around them. Her strong arms didn’t falter once.
She cradled him under a tamarind tree, the two of them surrounded by the gentle hum of frogs and crickets.
“You’re not just light,” she said softly. “You’re my peace. My favorite weight in this world.”
He looked up at her—her powerful frame silhouetted against the stars—and his heart melted.
“Priya… I think I’ve fallen—”
She interrupted him with a gentle finger on his lips. Then she bent down and whispered in his ear:
“I know. I’ve been carrying you… in my heart… far longer than in my arms.”
He chuckled. “That’s so cheesy.”
She smirked. “So is your face.”
Back at the Veranda: Final Lift of the Night.
She carried him bridal-style all the way back home, not letting him touch the ground even once.
As they reached her veranda, he whispered, “Will you always carry me?”
She nodded. “Even when we’re old and grey. Even if you get fat.”
He grinned. “You’ll still lift me?”
“Then I’ll just use both arms and my back.”
“You’re… incredible.”
“And you’re mine,” she said softly.
Then she opened the door, kicked it gently with her foot, and carried her blushing little man into the house—like a newlywed on their first night.
“So This Is the Little One?” – Priya’s Family Reunion…
It was a bright Sunday morning when the calm air of Shantipath was shattered by the arrival of Priya’s relatives — her two cousin sisters, and three of her elder aunties, all widows over the age of 60, visiting from their ancestral village for a few days.
They came carrying bags, pickles, gossips, loud laughter — and a very specific interest in meeting “the librarian boy” Priya had been “carrying on about… and carrying around.”
Anirudh, Oblivious and Doomed.
He was watering the tulsi plant when he heard the commotion.
“That must be them,” Priya said with a sly grin. “Be sweet.”
“Sweet is all I ever am,” he replied, unaware of the approaching danger.
Within seconds, the courtyard was filled with the sound of bangles and excited laughter.
“Aree wah, Priya! So this is the baby you carry like a doll?”
“Hai re, look at his soft cheeks!”
“Does he even weigh anything?”
“He’s like a feather!”
Before he could flee, he was mobbed.
The Cousins Strike First.
Rekha (age 39, a school volleyball coach):
She grinned mischievously, flexed her thick arms, and hoisted Anirudh into a front cradle without asking.
“Oof, I expected more resistance. He’s like a library bag with two books!”
Anirudh tried to wriggle, but she bounced him slightly, laughing.
“Didi, how do you not carry him all day?!”
“I do,” Priya replied smugly.
Savita (age 41, works in a co-op bank):
She took her turn, spinning him around in a fireman’s carry.
“So light! We should take turns like a workout circuit!”
Anirudh groaned, red-faced. “This is not a fitness class…”
Then Came the Aunties.
That’s when Auntie Sharda (age 55) stepped up, pulling her sari higher and cracking her knuckles.
“Move aside, girls. Let an old lioness try.”
And to everyone’s shock, she bent her knees, scooped Anirudh under the thighs and back, and lifted him clean into a bridal carry.
“Ohoho! Still got it! Like carrying my youngest grandson!”
The crowd cheered. Anirudh hid his face in his hands.
Next came Auntie Kamla (age 57) who tried a hip-carry, holding him like a chubby toddler on one side.
“He’s cuter than my cats,” she declared.
Finally, Auntie Gita (age 58) asked Priya’s permission first — but still carried him on her shoulder like a sack of rice and walked three laps around the courtyard as everyone clapped.
“How does it feel, beta?” she teased him.
“Like… like I’m in a cloud of aunties!” he squeaked.
Priya’s Turn — and Her Claim.
Finally, Priya stood and calmly said,
“My turn.”
Without a word, she took Anirudh back from Auntie Gita and cradled him firmly in her arms, wrapping him in her warmth.
“Now that everyone’s had their fun,” she said, smiling but clearly possessive.
“He’s mine. My arms, my heart, my house. Understood?”
All the aunties laughed. “Don’t worry, Priya! We were just teasing him. But you’re lucky — he fits perfectly!”
Later That Night.
Anirudh was resting on Priya’s lap as she gently ran her fingers through his hair.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I think I’ve been lifted by more women in the last few days than even in my entire childhood,” he murmured.
“It’s part of loving you. You’re too precious to walk.”
“I feel like a toy doll, any girl or woman in the neighborhood picks me up in her arms.”
“No,” she whispered. “You’re my most beautiful burden. And I’ll carry you... forever.”
“A Hundred Steps of Love”...
It was a warm, golden morning after a light drizzle, and the fields around Shantipath sparkled with fresh dew.
Priya held Anirudh’s hand as they stood at the edge of the gently flowing Bhagirathi River, a wide stream with stepping stones that led to the old Shiva mandir on the other side — perched high on a hilltop with a hundred mossy stone steps.
“We’ll cross over and make an offering,” she said softly. “It’s a special day.”
“We can walk, right?” Anirudh asked hopefully.
She just smirked.
“You won’t be walking anywhere, chhote babu.”
Before he could protest, she stooped low, scooped him into a tight bridal carry, and stepped into the cool water.
Crossing the River.
The stream gurgled and splashed around Priya’s strong legs as she waded confidently through it. Her cotton saree was hitched above her knees, revealing her powerful calves straining just slightly with each step. But her arms — wrapped around Anirudh like a cradle — didn’t tremble even once.
“Isn’t it slippery?” he asked nervously, clinging to her.
“For you? No. For me?” She grinned. “I’ve walked across this since I was ten.”
Women washing clothes along the riverbank watched in amusement.
“Aree wah! Look at Priya and her dulha!”
“She’s carrying him again! He’s like a little baby in her arms!”
Even the cows grazing nearby seemed to turn their heads as if watching this curious procession.
The Hundred Steps.
Once they crossed, Priya stood at the base of the steep, ancient stairway that led up to the hilltop temple.
“You sure you want to carry me up these?” Anirudh whispered. “That’s a lot of stairs.”
She didn’t answer. She just adjusted his weight gently, held him tighter against her chest, and started to climb.
One step.
Two steps.
Ten… twenty… thirty.
Anirudh could feel her heart beating, strong and steady, just beneath his ear. Her breathing was deep but unfaltering.
She shifted his position halfway — into a koala-carry, with his legs wrapped around her waist, arms around her neck, and her arms under his thighs.
“You’re so light,” she whispered. “Feels like I’m carrying a little boy.”
“Priya… how do you do this?”
“Because I love you. And because you’re mine.”
At the Temple.
They reached the top. The priest looked up from his prayers and smiled in recognition.
“Ah, Priya bitiya. You brought your… ah… patidev?”
“Soon-to-be,” she said, smiling proudly.
She set Anirudh down briefly only, then immediately picked him up in her cradle in a perfect bridal carry, for the ritual offering.
After the aarti, the priest blessed them both.
“May your bond be strong… and your love lift you forever.”
Anirudh looked up at Priya — strong, radiant, eyes glowing in the sun — and for the first time, he didn’t feel embarrassed to be carried.
He felt… cherished.
Descending in Her Arms Again.
Of course, on the way down, she insisted on carrying him again — this time piggyback, with his arms around her shoulders and his head resting near hers.
“This is cheating, you are not letting me down,” he mumbled.
“No,” she whispered back. “This is a tradition between you and me”.
( Continued in the next part…)
