Poetic Justice.

‘People would not appreciate those clothes’, the preachy Keralite housewife warned the young Italian couple. I, however, begged to differ having seen the intense attention the Italian girl was getting. Word had spread. Everywhere up and down the train eyes were lighting up. People from every corner of the train were submitting to the spontaneous impulse to take a walk. Everyone wanted a piece of the smiling ‘firang’ in hot pants. (And I might add that this IS appreciation enough for clothes).
The housewife took no notice and kept speaking. Her lists of do’s and don’ts kept coming. Advice poured and everyone around her was drenched. Then she started talking about stuff that had no connection to anything. She went on about culture, tradition, morals, clothes- you get the drift. The helpless Italians just nodded not knowing what had set her off. The housewife, in fact, was so eager to impress on her values that she impulsively kept adjusting her dupatta. Her little kids, apparently hurt by the mother’s disinterest, were lying on the top berth staring at the roof for solace.
And then it happened.
Touch Me Touch Me Touch Me
Ah Zara Zara
Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me
Ah Zara Zara
Hold Me Hold Me Hold Me
Ah Zara Zara
Oooo ooo ooo.
sings the 7 yr old girl at the top of her shrill voice. The Italians are surprised; I am shaking with laughter while the housewife just manages a lame smile in response. An awkward silence followed. Eating humble pie didn’t suit the housewife, it constipated her ego. The rest of the journey passed in peace (sadly) with the housewife maintaining a dignified silence.

BOTTOMLINE: Save yourself the blushes, use protection. As you sow, so shall you reap.