Like the same sun that rises and goes down every
day, my commute to and fro to work is almost the same. More women than men board
the share auto that I board. The smell of jasmine, manicured and painted nails,
faces covered with shawls and duppattas (to protect them from fierce sun and
not me) has always been the peoplescape during my commute. Not sure if this is
god’s way of ensuring women safety by sending them in an auto with a gay man.
Some days he plays his cruel pranks and gets me an
auto with men who can asphyxiate you in minutes. The fragrance of choice
offered for asphyxiation varies from Ponds Talcum powder to solar powered and self-manufactured
sweat to Parachute coconut oil. And that makes me feel that I am better off in
an auto with all women than men. Occasionally, Manmathan, sends also some good
ones my way. But again some of those are either boringly straight or lack of
crowd gives you no room for a touch, play and convert. I tell you, sometimes, this
God of love, Manmathan, acts like Villain of Love!
The other day, not sure if Manmath decided to throw
me a surprise or I decided to throw him a surprise by leaving work at a
different time. The surprise came at the train station and not in a share-auto.
I reached the station at around 4.30pm and it was almost empty. I could still
kiss a man right in that day light without offending anyone or being caught by
someone. Believe me, such an occasion is a rare occurrence in Chennai suburban
stations. And if it does, there must be a strike that day.
From a distance, I noticed a tall, athletic
built, smart young man seriously pouring his eyes over a book. As I got closer
to the chair where he was seated, his eyes took a break from the book and he glanced
at me, but didn’t seem too interested to read me like the book. Infact he occasionally
distracted himself from the book to check the time and check on the light at
the end of the track. Between me and the book there was just one alphabet that
was different, I was tan brown (tan color and my eyes were brown), while he was
immersed in Dan Brown. How unfortunate!
I wanted to check him out from head to toe, but I
didn’t want to make it obvious and send his stock-value up the roof. So, I
decided intercept his reading and assault him with a few question about the
next train, with a hope that I can capture a better image of his face and may
be use it as a raw material to prime my hormones that is otherwise unused.
And when he lifted his head to answer me, I
noticed his facial hair was manicured very differently and was running all over
his fair and lovely cheeks. OMG! that facial hair almost turned me nuts and
churned my nuts. I was definitely lost looking at him and was even getting
ready to skip a work related call that evening if he said Yes!
I fervently prayed to Manmathan asking him to
release his arrow now or atleast delay the arrival of the train so that I can try
my touch, play and convert trick. I lowered my hands down my crotch area and checked
on the fly with my index finger with a hope that the young man would lift his
head to catch my expression of seduction.
We didn’t have much time left for the train to
arrive and this was my best chance to convert. Should I make another
conversation with him without getting too personal?
Damn, Dan Brown, he seemed disinterested in the
world around him.
With no success in the past 20 mins, I decided
to change the script of my play, and started ignore him. Promptly few minutes
later the train arrived and I boarded the bogie through the first door, while he
got in through the second door and walked down towards my direction. Giving myself
no further hope and after adding Dan Brown to my curse-list after Manmathan, I
found an aisle seat closer to the door and pulled out my iPhone and started to fiddle
with it.
He came and sat right across from me and left
his back besides him. For the first time I get an unabated view of his sexy and
slender thighs and sleeping snake inside his pants. Was he leading me into something
or was he just playing his power games like Manmathan?
He opened the book, removed the book-marker and
picked-up his reading from where he left. Sitting across from him, the angle
was perfect and I tried the crotch trick again to get his attention. The guy
was deeply engrossed, but every now and he took his eyes of the book to check
on the location/stations. I was pissed off at his insensitive behavior and was just
short of lifting my hands and cursing Dan Brown and if possible make that book
disappear.
Had I known his name I would have written ours along
with other couples on hall of fame on the train, but the shrewd man didn’t leave
his identity hanging from his neck or waist. Once again I abandoned my hopes. With
only three more stations to my destination, I turned on the camera on my mobile
phone to see if I can alteast take home a picture of him, if not take him home
like a book, lay him supine and turn him over like the pages of Dan Brown.
But it is not an easy job to do a paparazzi shot
sitting a feet across from the subject of pleasure and the object of tease. I erected
my iPhone vertically on banks of Sunderbans (my thighs), rotated my neck like
an Ostrich to compose the shot and waited for the prey to move into the
cross-wire. And I patiently waited for the train go over the noisy bridge to
shutter noise from the camera. As soon as I got the shot, I looked around to
confirm that nobody including him noticed my first success in this voyeuristic
ambition.
All I didn’t do that evening was get on top of
the train like Shah Rukh in the movie Dil Se and break into a song, otherwise I
tried every trick I had mastered in the 25 years from chasing and choosing men.
He continued to remain an elusive, ferocious
Bengal tiger with manly whiskers both in my mind and in picture. Today I had no
luck in trapping and taming this tiger, but there is always another day and
another time, and if not, another tiger. I could very well send this picture to
a website that posts pictures of attractive men captured on subways globally - http://nycsubwayguys.tumblr.com/
More lusted and found stories from OMR will
continue, so come back for more next week! (Email me if you need to see the
picture of the male tiger!)
