The Memoirs of this Lamentable Mohila.

Mohila

Means Lady. Woman. Female.

I have been addressed as that quite a few times when I was around seventeen. Old and matured at my age, I somehow felt incredibly hurt when some men's eyes would slither all over me and then there would be the deliberate "brushing" against my body... even my forearms were erogenous zones. I hated the way they would comment on my newly and fully developed breasts, my bigger than average buttocks, and my ungainly looks.

"Mohilar jinis achhe guru... Mukh jodio dhuchunir moto..." (the Lady has Stuff to show, though her face looks like shit)

I would cringe sometimes. Sometimes I would try to put up an impassive face to show that they could not hurt me. Sometimes I would glare.

Tales of ineffectuality, that.

Yesterday, I'd just come back from a drive and my best friend had dropped me home. The cell phone's cash charge suddenly diminished to almost nothing, and panicking, I ran to the nearest shop. When I was returning, I found two men starting to comment.

"Jinis mama, jinis. Dekhechis?" (Stuff man, stuff. You See?)

"Dekhechi to dekhechi to.." (I see, I see!)

Comments went on. I was walking. Normal pace. No strange kung-fu stance, or anything. Inside, my body was burning up. I was seeing red as they continued to make comments like this for more than ten minutes. Finally, I decided to put a stop to this.

HALT! PAUSE! TURN!

I looked at two men. One was twenty. The other was younger.

They paused too.

Flash went my camera. Broad street. People passing by. They stared at me in disbelief as I lowered the camera phone.

"Ar ekta kotha bolle ei chhobita niye thanay jaabo ami. Nyakami hochhe?" (One more word and I go to the police with this picture. WTF?)

They begin to say something but I turned away.

I had no other options. Was what I did right? Was it?

All I could feel was my red blood boiling. And the problem was, my stupid camera phone was unable to process the request because of the light.

Armist.

So where was I? Oh yes.

I was on a public bus. Its one of those nicer ones where you get to sit by the large window that keep on streaming all the polluted air in and you breathe in and out, listening to soft rock and basically feel like going to sleep. Around eight in the evening, this is quite a common scenario when you live the life of Panu. That is, when you are not trying to kill your baby sister with a blunt knife or when you are trying to make head or tail or any other part of anatomy (Insert name here) of course.


Umm, okay, so there I was sitting peacefully... there were very few people who were sitting in the bus and lots of empty window seats (Incredible windows, I daresay. Huge, with only one rod to stop me from falling out.... and it has to be pretty huge for me to fall off!)... yes, yes, You are in love with this bus already. If you are not, thats fine too.

All of a sudden, this man just sits beside me. In his end twenties, this guy is handsome, in a florid, rice-eater sort of way. Me not really like.

So why me? I ask myself. Why not the entire bus which has window seats?

Whatever, I go back looking outside.

About three minutes later, I hear a stilted... "Hehekkhiyuj Meeeheee" and I looked at him.

"What?" I ask, with raised eyebrow.

"Do you believe in astrology?"

Dammit. Weakness one. Shit. I curse. "Yes. I mean. A bit."

Dude gets all smiles. Oh Ef. Wrong Answer.

"I want to do something, please. If you don't mind. Will you please let me do something? "

OhefohEfohefOHEFFFFFFffffffff........ nononono no Panu no rey no nononono.....

"What?" I ask.

"I am a palmist. Actually. I am someone who does this by touching the arm. Would you let me see your nature?? Please??" puppy dog eyes that says...Pretty Please with sugar on top?

No no no. Don't fall for that one. Don't FALL FOR THAT ONE....

"How do you do that?"

Curiosity is a bad thing. It killed the cat. And I am a pussy at that.

In reply, florid armist grabs hold of my upper arm through my top. He gives my arm muscles a squeeze and (pant pant) says "You are pursuing science."

"Nope."

"No wait... Commerce"

"No.

"Arts."

Oh WOW. HOW DID YOU KNOW? I could be so many more things apart from that!! Like a sucker. With the words "SUCK ME" written on my forehead!!!

"You have passed your Grads?"

"Um. Yes. I have."

"Oh good." Man brightens visibly. "You are very creative. You paint, right?"

"Um no. Actually, I can't. Eki Eki can I have my arm back please?"

"You should pursue media. That's your line. You should be a set designer."

Sure. I can so totally imagine you in a microwave, being gently revolved with a touch of rosemary. And maybe some white wine while we are at it.

"Oh. Can I have my arm back?" This time I extract arm. Too disgusting touchwise. Man grabs arm. I shake it off. Ignore The Guy.

"Please let me tell you some more about you... please? You are very stubborn, you know."

He He. Stoppit awlready.

Ignore Mode On. I look at him. "Please go. I don't want this."

Man tries to say something else. Looks at my eyes. Leaves. Go Go, and DON'T return.

Yes I have sucker written all over me right now. I have been arm-handled.