24 November, 2020

Chaabi Kho Jaaye

The padlock is fitting—he's found his gal. Finally. But doesn't the very act make him the wrong guy?

Chaabi Kho Jaaye
He did not read the reluctance with which she raised the wrist, the one with the tiny padlock looped around the two blue

bangles. Or her stand-back politeness; some chaps never do. She'd done her bit, looking only towards him, not at him, eyes in a wide-angle mode that declared erasure of this advancing object. The subtlety was wasted, he had the look of self-defeating determination men sometimes sport in the face of a woman they fancy.

He fumbled around with the key, angling it this way and that by her bangles, and as symbolism would have it, it did not fit. He tried a little longer than necessary to allow some accidental touching. She winced. "It's not fitting," he said, with an embarrassed cackle intended as laughter. She made a point of maintaining a look away, and that finally fenced him off. He should never have tried. It was another of those tragedies, wasn't it, that the guys smart enough to pick up a subtle message are probably the only ones you wouldn't want to give them to.

But she couldn't complain about the...


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