PDA

Going late to office, travelling in 7-seaters and buses is a different kind of an experience altogether. I had one such experience yesterday, and it wasn’t a very comfortable one. No, I am not talking about the discomfort that such kind of a travel can cause where four people are trying to fit their fat bottoms on the same seat and you try shrinking yours to half the size to fit in the place or maybe just rest a single bum on the seat. That’s a different story. Here, I am talking of the kind of discomfort you feel when someone is making a show of their personal life right in front of you. PDA – Public Display of Affection.

There was a young couple sitting on the seat opposite mine. They were only holding hands when they got in, which was pretty OK by me because they were a couple. But soon after they got in, the guy started giving a shoulder massage to the girl. What was this, a mobile-spa? That was followed by the poking – tickling – finger-walking on her hands routine. Here the girl was blushing and egging the guy on. And it was me who was feeling embarrassed looking at them.I didn’t have anywhere else to look (bad positioning). I kept giving them disgusted looks, hoping they would get the hint. Alas! They couldn’t have and it took me a long time to figure out why, tube-light that I am. I had my scarf over my face, bandit style…

I recollect another time when I accidentally walked into somebody’s “love-scene”. I love walking, that’s the form of exercise that i enjoy the most and I usually go to parks for that. Its awkward when people get their bedroom stories out in the open. And its not like Hyderabad is as crowded as Mumbai where people cannot find privacy even within the four walls of their bedroom. The couple would have been beaten to death had some specific moral policing activists caught them. Under the tree, buttons of the shirt askew, the girls hand quite close to the belt buckle, maybe a little lower… cant say much about the girl though. She and the guy’s hands were in the burkha and her face wasn’t visible either because they were in a lip-lock. The moment I passed by the girl pulled her burkha down. Perfect protection against recognition, I say! I could have sworn.

Why cant people keep their hands to themselves in public places. Your hands don’t have to be all over somebody else. Why not take your love and passion inside the bedroom? Why embarrass yourself and others? Why?