I felt his first glances on me when I turned
To get my ticket from the conductor.
His intrigued eyes were drawing patterns on my chest.
Quietly I tried to concentrate on the view outside.
Naked children cried relentlessly for absentee mothers
And fat men bathed on filthy footpaths.
His arm, stealthily moved next to mine
And I did not look. He searched for his wallet
And I did not move. I could not move.
The second time, I cringed slightly and was ashamed
At my own thoughts. He drew me half a smile
And his eyes saw mine droop, in mute indignation.
I fixed my eyes outside the window. His arm, now bolder,
Continued its tour in various directions
While I held my bag tightly on my breasts.
Clutching onto it like a shield, I waited patiently
For the bus to break down, for his phone to ring
Or for the world to come to an end,
And I did not move. I checked my watch.
Fifteen more minutes; adjusting my dupatta
I waited for me to find my drowned voice.
Two of his fingers now relaxed on my thigh.
I shifted, and his fingers shifted with me
As he spoke on the phone in flawless English
And I did not move. I sat there, comatose
With several eyes hovering over me.
The ladies seats glared with apparent hostility
And amused smirks lurked from every corner
Waiting to pounce and dig their teeth into me.
His palm was rubbing against my thigh now,
Wiping the sweat off my head I browsed my texts.
My cheek felt his breath, warm and hungry,
As he, very softly, poured obscenities into my ears.
And I did not move. I think I heard a chuckle too.
A primitive curse chained me to the third seat
Of bus number 237/1 and I could not move.
Amherst Street!- Gritting my teeth and grappling my bag
I prepared myself for one last humiliation.
My friend hugged me at the bus stop
And a pair of eyes chased me from the yellow bus.
I know that they were laughing at me; they always do.
I clenched my fist and started walking.
