Life in a metro is not easy as I thought it would be. It is not the internal conflicts, job pressure and your relationships alone that you have to handle - apart from that you have to handle the never ending dirty looks, innuendo comments and much more. You wear a salwar, sari, t-shirt or anything else for that matter, the very looks fall on your breasts are unbearable. On several occasions, I have asked a couple of my male friends this question, "what is so particular about a woman’s breast?". Some just smile, some ignore me and others just stare at me. By far I have not got an answer for this.
Being a journalist, I usually don't leave office at a scheduled time. It is at those times that I have to resort to a city bus to take me home. Once inside a bus, the umpteen pair of eyes that wait to devour you make you feel like an alien who has just landed in a foreign world. On rarer occasions, I am forced to depend on auto rikshaw to return home. These rides are particularly scary - leaving the ugly looks aside, the exorbitant fares that they tend to blurt out is good enough to send you right into a coma. Catching a late show with a male friend or a group of friends is literally sacrilege and you would think that I was walking around with some kind of ammunition the way I get stared at. One of these days I seriously consider walking around with a banner that reads "Welcome to the 21st century", for all those RipVan Winkles.
PC: Jose
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