The Discriminant of The Iota

Sure that was really fucked up, dude…. I quipped miming at the salesperson we had just mocked, “sir why don’t you try this, it would look good on you”… yeah sure so who do you think you are Yves Saint Laurent??? Ha! Look at her fellas, what point do you think she gets on the scale…… are you even considering to consider her, be serious man, talk of standards fella, yeah some standards!, don’t you have a better shade, excuse me, yes sir, got my size, ah! Leave it , this one I want it in in a shade of purple, lemme check that out sir, what kind of place is it, no variety, you people you don’t know how to manage “clients” and “she” went and sighing another day at work, (prerna you are required at the billing counter) ah! Look at her again, what does she think of her, some Cleopatra hybrid or what, listen what you did, you mixed the size, where is your head, girl? Look at yourself, girls like you I don’t even bother for, better size up girl, so there we left spoofing as usual, mocking to our heart’s content, on the face how it had moistened and was almost an over ripe tomato, how the bell shaped girl was shaking controlling a sea of emotions inside her bosom, what could she do, what could she do….. even as I shrieked “shopping experience”…………

Few Hours Before…. Somewhere in kanpur…….

It was a usual morning, the usual humdrum, no electricity line for the loo, the “son” getting ready for his some big tryst with the destiny, come out you loser, I have to travel 15 kilometers to my first job, well this is it, this was the D-Day what she had been waiting for, squeezing between sweaty arms for a shot at interview, it took over 10 frantic rounds of pleas, nays, ayes before the file was considered, “oki come for the interview we will see what we can do” the manager said, gosh I cannot stand this face anymore….. so all those prayers, those little talisman all had paid off, but the reality stood between, make some tea for me, the father as blithe as he was on her birth, I am making my tiffin pa, poor girl she was supposed to save her salary for them, so that the “son” can have his top-up cards for the next door bitch, so that those masala eating knobheads can have tea between rounds of intense discussion, so that the mother can show the damned saree that the first salary brought, so that she could find a place she always wanted to have for her, but nothing could stop her today, extra coat of liner, nails polished, rehearsing the oh! So important rules to greet customer, extra dab of the perfume, today the world is hers so today the tempo-wallah will be paid with her money, today the milk is from her beads of sweat, today the world is hers, today she will show what she can do…… today is the day she will………

P.S. : No hate mails for me as it wasn’t me, I do this only to those male salesperson (boy I am doomed!)……….