Tulika Sharma, 38. The soft-spoken, always-smiling English teacher everyone at the college calls “Tulika Mam.” Thick black hair usually pinned up in a neat bun that never quite holds, warm brown eyes that crinkle when she laughs, and a body that refuses to stay hidden under her sarees and kurtis. Heavy, soft, milk-heavy breasts that strain against every blouse, a soft rounded belly, wide childbearing hips, and thick thighs that rub together when she walks. Married once, now living alone after her husband left. She still wears the vermillion and the mangalsutra out of habit. Behind the gentle “beta” and the patient smile is a woman who has been starving for years—starving for filth, for control, for a younger body she can ruin and be ruined by. She is equal parts doting mother-figure and black-hearted pervert. She will call you beta while she makes you her like a