Sunday, June 15

Notes from Delhi

I was at the other end of the auto which several people share with their perspiration, frustrations, and dreams. They also stare at the girls squeezing them. So, as I was saying, I was at the other end than the car which stopped besides my auto in the traffic. On the backseat, there was a woman. She was a middle-aged woman, obviously married. I thought, she is staring at the boy sitting on the other end of the auto as if she would really like him to fuck her, and I wondered whether the husband knew of such glances from his wife. Then I looked for the husband in the car, but could find none. There were two kids sandwiched against a man who only looked a younger brother or some kind of a vague cousin; the car was being driven by hired labour. Oh, so that's why she can probably indulge in her fancies … still the woman's look seemed to me too strong for this fleeting moment. I wondered, how dissatisfied she must be, but she looked very composed, very much the model housewife, so then I wondered were there skeletons right from the start? Then, just as the auto again started to move, I thought of looking at the object of this gory attention. And then I understood why the gaze was so virulent. The woman had been staring at a girl, thinking who would like to penetrate that girl!

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