The secret adventure of a rich womanPeople in Kathmandu might find the public transportation daunting and headache-inducing at times, but for me, it is heaven. Heaven of bodies. Female bodies. And an escape from the banalities of my life.
People in Kathmandu might find the public transportation daunting and headache-inducing at times, but for me, it is heaven. Heaven of bodies. Female bodies. And an escape from the banalities of my life.
Packed buses are a perfect opportunity for me to touch a female. A simple caress on their back or an elbow to their breasts. And yet they don’t seem to realise that I have been doing it intentionally. Occasionally, someone looks at me when the touch lingers a moment more than appropriate. Other times they just look straight ahead, probably unaware that somebody’s hands are running all over their body.
“Is this seat empty?” asks a beautiful young girl, possibly in her teens.
I hurriedly snatch the backpack that I had kept a little while ago on my adjacent seat.
“Nice weather today, no?” she says, looking outside the window.
“Yes, I think…….”
I turn around to see her properly but cannot speak any further because I am enamoured by her beauty. I want to touch her everywhere, cup her beautiful face in my palms and kiss her youthful lips.
“Everything all right, auntie? Why are you staring at me like that?”
I now realise that I have been staring at her for over a minute now.
“Nothing, you just resemble someone I know,” I lie, easily. “Your shirt button’s undone, let me help.” In the pretext of closing her buttons, I press on her chest. For her, the gesture probably resembles that of her overprotective mother, but inwardly I moan.
It was fifteen years ago, on my 26th birthday, that I realised who I was. My friends had thrown a surprise party for me that lasted for hours. My father was in Singapore for a business trip and my stupid mother was accompanying him on the trip. It was only at around 11 pm that everyone slowly started to leave. At 12.30, it was just me and my best friend Palisha. We had been sleeping over at each other’s places since we were little, so it only made sense that she stay over at mine on my birthday. I was making the bed for us to sleep together when she hugged me from behind.
“Happy birthday once again my dear,” she said, engulfing me in her warm embrace.
I said thank you and turned around.
I don’t know if it was the many drinks we had throughout the party or if it had been imminent for a very long time, but we kissed. And I should tell you that it was the single most exquisite moment of my life. I replay the warmth of her lips and the euphoria I felt from her kiss even today, while I am tossing and turning, unable to sleep beside my snoring husband.
“Why are you so obsessed with that goddamn library?” asks my husband, looking over his tablet for a millisecond. Thank goodness for that much attention in 24 hours.
“You have your work. What do I have?” I retort.
“Hmmm,” he rolls his eyes and returns back to whatever is demanding his attention.
I don’t remember what attracted me to this cold, heartless corporate machine many years ago. It was probably the insane amount of money that had blinded my young mind, making me oblivious to the possibility of endless days of doing nothing, except shopping and going to the salon.
The library is just an excuse to use public transportation and enjoy the temporary pleasure of a caress and a touch.
It all began when I was waiting for our driver to come pick me up from a library that had recently caught my attention. The library presented a unique way to spend my dull, shallow days in that mansion. After reading all day, I stepped outside the library gate and turned right to get to the main street. “He’s probably running late today,” I thought.
“Chakrapath-Samakhusi-Nayabuspark-Balaju-Swayambhu. Want to go, sister? The bus is empty, with plenty of seats,” an adolescent conductor shouted in my direction.
At first, I was irritated, and I gave him a cold, hard stare. He was unfazed and showed me his tobacco-stained teeth. But I thought that I haven’t got anything to lose and stepped inside the rusty container that smelled like a bundle of wet hay. As long as I can remember, I have had someone chauffeur me everywhere I go, in luxurious cars. And marriage didn’t change that. So stepping inside that bus was definitely an adventure for me.
Apparently, the boy was lying. I had to jostle through the crowd to find an inch of standing space. Before I could regret my decision and change my mind, the bus sped off like a rocket. I took out my mobile from my LV tote with much difficulty, snapped it open and wrote a hurried text to my driver to just go home because I was going to Neena’s and she would drop me off later.
It was hot and the bus stank. Everything cried of despair inside what looked like a century old vehicle. I regretted my decision immediately and was just deciding to get off at the next stop when a frail-looking village woman brushed past me and her whole body rustled against mine. She was in a hurry to get off at her stop, while I was transported to another world. Shivers ran down my spine and the feelings long suppressed, since that kiss with Palisha, began to resurface. I took a deep breath and felt ease between my shoulder blades, which had prickled and felt heavy ever since my marriage. I knew right then and there that I had found my ‘day job’.
After that fateful day, I got out of my house every day with enthusiasm and vigour. But I did my activities under the cover of the library. Our driver dropped me off at the library at 11 am every day and came to pick me up at 5 pm sharp. Immediately after he dropped me off, I would go right back at the main street and scour for overcrowded vehicles. The more jam-packed the vehicle, the better.
I usually avoid buses that have only been filled to their seat potential and if I have no choice, I pick a seat adjacent to a female. The overpowering scent that females produce helps me to get out of my autopilot life and live the real one. I cannot marry a woman, but I can escape and act out my fantasies inside a bus.
The things I do every day would have caused a furore if I was a man, but how lucky I am that females either don’t care that I am elbowing at their chest or they turn around, see another female and smile thinking that the caress was probably just an accident.