Have you been to public places in Delhi? If yes, you have probably seen them.
Deceptively normal looking females with shopping bags in one hand and a huge handbag in another, walking at you… yes, at you. Even if you were a wall made out of solid steel, they would smash right through you and probably not even notice.
Have you had conversations with men who think they know everything—including what you did last summer? Then you have met them. Your interjections, interruptions, interceptions and interests are ignored while the monologue continues. I usually close my eyes during some such conversations and my brain tricks me into believing there are seven men arguing with each other in that room you are in; in reality, there is just one man.
Often, I pause and wonder about these creatures and what probably goes on in their brains; assuming there is one in there, in most cases. The weight of the entire world or the said shopping bags or the massive accumulation of knowledge probably has all their sensory receptors switched off. It is possible that they do not see you or hear you at all.
Your presence diminishes considerably when you are in a shiny place with shiny shops selling shiny things; or in closed spaces with just one exit door; it is true; but these creatures just refuse to accept your existence. That hurts.
What hurts more? Not jumping out of their way at the right time.
Have you looked into the mirror recently?
Did you see a wall or did you see yourself?
What do you want?
Why don’t you have it yet?
What walls do you need to break through?
Have you met my little brother? Have you met me?