Posted in My Mundane Diaries

What Happens…

As I walked out of my office, I wondered whether the path that I had chosen was right. I looked at the auto wala and asked him, “Bhaiyya, chalna hai? Metro?”(Brother, I need to go to the metro). I got onto the auto and as the wind duelled with my already dishevelled hair I still wondered…

It was hardly a ten minutes ride, he said, “Madamji, yahi pe chodunga, aage jaane nahi denge.”(Madam, I shall have to drop you here, I don’t think they’d allow me to go any further) I looked at the distance between the auto and metro and deciding that it was favourable I refrained from arguing with him. It was that time of the month and I was the worst when it came to not staining oneself if you know what I mean. I disembarked the auto and was sure that the standing auto wala had clearly seen that stain of blood on my panties as I bent to get out. I saw him staring at me or rather he was lost while he stared at me…


I looked at the stain and wondered, “Oh that seems familiar. Oho the lady is having the same thing that my wife has every month.” Twenty five bucks for just a tiny ride. I have nothing to look forward to except some sexual satisfaction. But that too gets curbed by such silly things. Women are full of emotions that already make it difficult for us to approach them and then there is this blood stain stuff going that makes it even worse. Is that why guys end up raping other women despite having their spouses or whatever…


“Haanji madam, boliye kaha jana hai?”(Yes, madam where do you want to go?)


“You do  not wanna go to the party, that’s alright, I understand…But when you say you do not want to go there because of my friends I don’t just get it..” I cried. I do not know for what reason he did not want to accompany me but this was a big night for me and as always he does not want to be around. Let him sit at home and watch his precious movies. “Bhaiyya, aap yaha se right leke left mud jana.”(Brother, take a right and then take a left after that). My voice was shaky, oh but who cares!


Madamji’s crying. Oh women, they always find solace in tears. Well I should not look at her like that. But she seems all dressed up for some occasion. Well let me just follow her instructions and pretend that I was looking at her only because she was talking to me. Yaar, what could it be? She must have had a fight with her husband. No she has no sindoor (vermillion) on her forehead. But who knows maybe she is married, today’s modern women are like that only, no sindoor, no mangal sutra.

I think that is another reason why women invite more trouble for themselves. They wear such clothes and then expect us, no, men to not look or stare at them. Then they have the nerve to say that we, no, men are ill-mannered. If the woman just wears those two things then she is more protected I suppose. That is why I guess my Banto is still unharmed. So pretty and obedient she is. I like her for her simplicity and conformity which have safeguarded her all this while. The sanction of a marriage helps a woman be safe. But what do these modern women know. Oh this is where she wanted to come. “Madamji, yeh lo aa gya“(Madam, we’ve reached), I announced. “Kitne, bhaiyya?” (How much?). “120 rupees, madamji.” If it were not for this job, I would not call these women “Madamji”, “Thank you, bhaiyya”, she said. Huh? Did she just thank me? Oh whatever big people too much show of etiquettes. I shouted back, “Ok madamji,”…I know a few English manners too. Protection Status



oranges and lemon sold for a penny, all the school girls are so many, the grass is so green, and the rose is so red remember me, when you are ........

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