My name’s Rajeev, and back when this happened, I was 18, now 40. I’m fair-skinned, 5’11”, lean but strong, with a hint of stubble that made me a hit with the girls. I had a knack for charming them, always knowing the right words to make hearts race. My older brother, Ramesh, was 28, dark-skinned, average height, and worked as a clerk in a dusty office. His new wife, my bhabhi Radha, was 24, a total knockout—fair, smooth skin, 34-28-30 figure, long black hair swaying down to her waist, big doe eyes, and pink lips that curved into a teasing smile. Our mom, 50, was a strict, temple-going woman. My other brother and his wife, with their two kids, lived upstairs in our two-story village house, a solid but old place where silence blanketed the nights.