At Lili's Place
Bus nears flyover. Red signal. Eyes turn left. Gaze touches her feet, rise. Up, up, stop. A shred of cloth breaks the continuum. Gaze paralysed. Rises again. Up, up. Stop. Signal turns green. Jerk. Glance at her face. She disappears round the bend.
Sigh. To office. Boss nags. Back home. Wife nags. Red signal: second glance. Fantasies. At Lili’s place. Manhood resurrected. Balding head, swelling paunch momentarily forgotten. Bus moves on. Sigh again. Back to real life. Balding head, swelling paunch, nagging wife.
Morning. Jump into bus. Signal, another signal. Flyover approaching. Expectant, dreamy glance to left. Reached flyover. She’s not there. Huh? Look again. Look hard. No. Cannot happen. What is a Mahatma Phule poster doing there?
162 words.
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She had thought herself above beauty. Bathed in gazes she stood proud. Then one day, the hand that pasted came back to tear. While poster parted wall, vanity fell. No one remembers her face, no one really saw it.
--frm the other side : )
Perspective after all
Some see beauty
Some are relieved again
To see the wall...
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