I was coming back by 492 as usual this evening. However, there were no ‘Ladies’ seat, as where it is generally written that it is allotted for our sex, was painted in white. I personally think that the conductor of the bus believed very strongly in non –discrimination on the basis of sex funda. Or maybe he was just done with resolving the many man-woman clashes over this particular issue. Whatever be the case, I ended up sitting next to a man on a seat, where usually a woman is seated.
Don’t get too excited we barely looked in each other’s direction, and completely forgot the existence of the other when the bus started to move. I was engrossed in my music and sometime while I was listening to some random song, I looked in his direction. He was crouched in his corner of the seat. He probably thought that if he dared to come on ‘my side of the seat’, I might just pounce on him and eat him raw (I strictly refuse to believe that my dead expression was the reason for his peculiar behavior, and strongly believe that either he has a very demanding lady boss or girlfriend, there isn't much difference either way, or else he must have been abused by a woman some time in his life). He also had his bag clutched close to his heart. It looked like his heartbeats were being pumped directly from this bag of his. I went back to my dead expressions and ‘Dard-de-Disco’ (One can only listen to this number if one is either drunk or drugged or has sat from 9-6 in his/her office with three meetings, with two different bosses who don’t see eye to eye. With me it was the latter one).
And then I smelled a very familiar smell for a fraction of five seconds. I must here inform anyone who is reading this that I have a strong olfactory sense. Perfumes, flowers are therefore my preferred options for any sort of gift giving or receiving occasion (those close enough to present me with my birthday gift please take note of this fact and for a change give me something that I really like. Also those who know my address are hereby given a chance to do some good in life by making someone else that is me, happy. :P) Coming back, this particular smell is actually from a perfume called ‘Charlie’. The last I smelled this smell was, when I was I guess 13 or 14 and my neighbor, Jigna, was learning how to make perfumes. She had made this particular one which she presented to me (my mum actually, but she never used it). I used to wear that perfume almost on a daily basis and was very fond of the smell. Anyways, this fragrance turned my attention to the person sitting next to me, as I thought he might be wearing that perfume. This man or rather a boy on his way to becoming a man was fair, wavy black hair with a touch of brown and an extremely peaceful face.
Night formed the background with light thrown from the yellow bulbs rushing past. This contrasted so well with the still image of a milky white face with barely smiling lips, white shirt, brown half sweater and blue jeans. That image gave me my first genuine smile of the day. I didn't like this guy in absolutely any way. I wasn't even thinking of him. But his presence somehow helped me relax. And that smell took me back in time when a whiff of perfumes on strangers used to make my heart flutter and flowers were known to me by their scent. I thought it was the day’s departing gift to me.
Don’t get too excited we barely looked in each other’s direction, and completely forgot the existence of the other when the bus started to move. I was engrossed in my music and sometime while I was listening to some random song, I looked in his direction. He was crouched in his corner of the seat. He probably thought that if he dared to come on ‘my side of the seat’, I might just pounce on him and eat him raw (I strictly refuse to believe that my dead expression was the reason for his peculiar behavior, and strongly believe that either he has a very demanding lady boss or girlfriend, there isn't much difference either way, or else he must have been abused by a woman some time in his life). He also had his bag clutched close to his heart. It looked like his heartbeats were being pumped directly from this bag of his. I went back to my dead expressions and ‘Dard-de-Disco’ (One can only listen to this number if one is either drunk or drugged or has sat from 9-6 in his/her office with three meetings, with two different bosses who don’t see eye to eye. With me it was the latter one).
And then I smelled a very familiar smell for a fraction of five seconds. I must here inform anyone who is reading this that I have a strong olfactory sense. Perfumes, flowers are therefore my preferred options for any sort of gift giving or receiving occasion (those close enough to present me with my birthday gift please take note of this fact and for a change give me something that I really like. Also those who know my address are hereby given a chance to do some good in life by making someone else that is me, happy. :P) Coming back, this particular smell is actually from a perfume called ‘Charlie’. The last I smelled this smell was, when I was I guess 13 or 14 and my neighbor, Jigna, was learning how to make perfumes. She had made this particular one which she presented to me (my mum actually, but she never used it). I used to wear that perfume almost on a daily basis and was very fond of the smell. Anyways, this fragrance turned my attention to the person sitting next to me, as I thought he might be wearing that perfume. This man or rather a boy on his way to becoming a man was fair, wavy black hair with a touch of brown and an extremely peaceful face.
Night formed the background with light thrown from the yellow bulbs rushing past. This contrasted so well with the still image of a milky white face with barely smiling lips, white shirt, brown half sweater and blue jeans. That image gave me my first genuine smile of the day. I didn't like this guy in absolutely any way. I wasn't even thinking of him. But his presence somehow helped me relax. And that smell took me back in time when a whiff of perfumes on strangers used to make my heart flutter and flowers were known to me by their scent. I thought it was the day’s departing gift to me.
