The Lustful Self-Deception

 “Beltola, Beltola......Paltan.....”, the grumpy words of the handyman sounded all over as I made a rushing entry into the city bus and placed myself on the last seats. He was a little fellow and his rapid blabber seemed more like a pandit rhyming his mantras during a bhagwat-puja. It was a dusty noon of a typical scorching summer Sunday and the usual long wait of the bus in the Jalukbari stop made me sigh. All faces inside, being bluffed by a number of tricky initiations of the engine, desperately awaited the finally sure start of the journey.

“Where will you go, Baideu?” the little handyman asked looking at someone outside.

“Panbazaar”, she responded with the softest of tones aided by a sweet soothing voice. My eyes flavoured her slow casual steps through the two mini stairs at the back door of the bus. She let her black glossy eyes roam all over to mumble her flaccid red lips, “Damn it....not a single empty seat!”

Jeez!!! She was pretty. She was white but not that snowy. Some strips of her long straight hair fell out to disturb her angel face, and she brushed them back with those tender fingers of her beautiful soft hand. She stood in the midst of other blurry figures and her black eyes revealed an adorable innocence and a caring concern. A red top over her lovely ups and lustrous skin, a skin-tight jeans that shaped out her timid limbs, a pair of heels dressing her tiny feet, two small but shining ear rings, one each pierced into the lower flaps of her two cute ears, a pink bangle on her right wrist, a lady bag on her left shoulder and an ecstatic scent of the perfume that breezed out from her appealing sexy body, presented a heavenly beauty that made me forget the steaming heat of the sun in a moment.

The conductor disturbed my thirsty thoughts, “Please Bhai.” He said holding out a hand as he signalled for the fare.

“One, Panbazaar.” I handed a five rupee note and said, a bit louder attempting to pinch her ears with the mention of the place she was going. But she was unmoved. She looked desperate for something else. May be, she was late for something, a birthday party, a movie perhaps. Or maybe, If I could help you with anything, I thought as if she was noticing me concerned about her. Though she looked tensely engrossed in the mysterious reason of hers, the density of her strained expressive face, the sigh on the one side bent juicy lips, rapid breaths of her sweet nose and the glitter of her artistic eyes, threw at me a lusty attraction.

Hi, I am Avinash, what’s your name beautiful? I practiced thoughtfully, a number of times, about how to start a conversation when we reach our stoppage. Not only that, her lovely reactions to my teasing, lists of dates featuring our unending romances, my precious gifts to her, my passionate kisses savouring the honey all over her and even our nervous first night together flashed in my eager mind. The human mind, I say it’s the most complicated thing ever built. It’s amazing, viewing the fact how it relates two complete unknown strangers so closely, just in a fraction of time.

Finally, the bus reached Panbazaar. She hurried past everyone to get down, while I followed behind, holding my nerve streams and planning to produce a fruitful result of the conversation which I had vehemently awaited during the whole journey. I opened out my mouth to say the words, but they suddenly stopped somewhere in the middle of my throat as my eyes structured a situation, I had never actually hoped about its possibility.

A boy about my age adored her welcome. She smiled at him and exclaimed how sorry she was for the late arrival. He held her hand gently and the couple walked away laughing about something that seemed very special to them.

There was I, still standing and thinking how my soliloquy had deceived me. It just took a second once again to feel about coming to my real life again. What a world, I was in a moment ago! I felt. I lit a cigarette and smilingly puffed out a tiny cloud of smoke, “Fuck......!!”