I hate nymphomaniac married women.
I was on this train from Delhi to Bangalore, and I was sharing the compartment with a married family from Gwalior. There was the dad, the mum and the three year old stereotypical girl. She whined at all the right times and was cute at all the right moments. She smiled just enough to get her way and played mum and dad against each other as only kids can.
The journey wasn’t very interesting apart from the midnight beer by the open door and the unhealthy, tasty food all the way to Bangalore. But what was really.. um… interesting, was that the mum was quite hot. Yes, she was! Hey, I’m not a man who goes after mums – no, I’m not that kind of man at all! In fact, mums usually like me for what I am – a soft-spoken, decent guy. Er, I may have said too much, but I’ll risk it. Bottom line is that I’m not a guy who goes after mums.
Anyway, there was this mum who was quite hot and looked quite disgusted with herself for having to tend to the kid. She kept giving me ‘Yeah, tell me about it’ kind of looks, rolling her eyes every time her kid asked her to pick her up, etc. She had a cute smile – the mum, not the kid – and she used it very well against me, and got me to close my novel and start a conversation.
She told me her story, and I told her mine. All this time, the dad was either sitting next to her and playing with the kid, or roaming around the train looking for water and food and other things. So, we were quite alone during our conversations. I tried my best not to be charming because then there would be no going back. I’ve had my share of women and right now, I consider all women to be – okay, let me now complete that. I respect women very much, I’m a feminist to the core, but I’m just not in the phase of my life where I start picking up hot mums on trains.
So, I’m telling her about my story and I tell her that I’m going back to Bangalore. At that particular juncture of time, the train had to pass over a bridge, changing the noise levels. I’m sure she heard me wrong, because her eyes opened wide for an instant, and then she looked down at the floor and gave me a shy smile. I saw her blush furiously. I was confused. She looked up at me and said, in a hushed voice, “Here??” and gave a small, girly, giggle.
I was staring at her. I was thoroughly confused and asked her, “What? Here what?”
Only when she was getting off at this place called Mammad, did I realize what that incident was. She gave me a wink as she left, and it dawned on me. She had heard me say, “Wanna jump in the sack?”
No, I’m not that kind of guy! Really! Honest!