After donating my blood, I had to return to Bhaiya'a home. I was about to leave the place and rain started coming down from nowhere. It was like a storm. I felt as if someone is pouring buckets of water right over my head. I had never experienced a water 'Thud' like this before. Each drop was like a Sponge ball having the co-efficient of restitution as 1.
I quickly got into a bus. It happened again that a lady came to me and showed me the upper portion of the window where it was written in bold letter that the swat on which I had taken refuge was "Mahilaon ke lie" or reserved for the woman (I thought women have reached moon and still..). Well i have never ever got a seat in a bus in Delhi because every time I board them, someone comes and pulls me apart from the seat magnet. Why me...??
Winter was not fully gone and it was raining in the Capital. I just love the place. So many bus stops, so many people travel together, so many languages they speak, but still the common language of humanity is the same and works every where. I got up from the seat and someone entered from the front door (not allowed entry) of the bus.
She was approaching towards me. I was staring at her in disbelief and she didn't showed any gesture. She sat beside the girl who asked to get up and I was really praying God to have dome that. The girl looked like a pure Delhite and I was standing write above her holding the round bars for a not so firm grip because she was making me lose the grip.
Rains make look girls even hotter. She was one of those who deserve this complement. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She looked like Monica Bellucci. I was trying hard not to make any eye contacts with her so that I can stare at her pure, raw beauty. It seemed as if God Indra has sent an 'Apsara' along with the rains. She was looking awesomely hot. I was awestruck at her beauty which was further increased by rains. I just wanted to stand there the whole day and gaze at her but she left much before.
I reached home without getting rained and again had to leave for Apollo the next day. This time again couldn't get a seat (Lucky me). Mamaji was taken for operation and during this time I thought to give the place a visit. I was roaming around the International Lounge here and there. After some time the guard standing at the Lounge Gate got mad.
Guard: You want to come in Sir?
(Do I have to ask you?)
Me: Yeah! Why not...
(Who wouldn't like to enter a lounge with so many hot chicks inside)
Guard: Card???
Me: Why?
Guard: Take that from Afghanistan commission.
Me: What man? Have u gone mad?
Guard: (Looks at me in astonishment) But sirrrr......
Me: I have no card and I am not an Aghani.
Guard: What? Then go sir please.
Me: WTF!! Why did you stopped me first?
Guard: Sorry sir.
Me: All right man! Chill.
I wasn't able to understand the review given by the guard. Then i realized that I was looking like an Afhghani. I was dressed up in boots, a jeans, a shirt and a sleeveless jacket. This stuff gained its true value with my Dutch cut beard which was purely Afghani. Now I could understand why all this happened.
Looks obviously sets us apart from everything. Looks are depended on culture, region and groups. I dont know this particualr look crap. I just keep whatever I like the most. These days I am sporting a 'Decent Boy' look (and mind you, decency rox). Somethings are judged just by the looks a person has (A victim). Even looks create divide. I don't know what to do yaar!
My next post will be the last post to this series. Thanx for wait everyone and to be so generous to keep commenting...:)
Nuts...:)
