“you are one scumfuck who I want to die instantly. I don’t care if you get dismembered or suffer a cardiac arrest. I don’t give a toss if your wife has devised rat poison in your lunch box. I just want you to die. Get off my feet and keep that elbow away from my face.”
Just today, when I boarded a local, the pot-bellied bastards weren’t letting me in. So I stood on the foot-rest till two stations and got a chance to slide myself in between two bellies. There… I was somewhat comfortable. Now it was my turn, fine. Around eight mid-aged monsters boarded the train. Half of them risked their wasteful life between the train and the platform while I got myself busy trailing them out.
Mumbai locals make you inhuman. They suck away your moralities. Travel in the wee-hours and satan may fear you, because you start behaving like a rabies infested pitbull.
It’s not as easy to bear as it is to think, when a 120 Kg retard stands on your costly PUMA and you can’t help but watch his disgraceful face, helplessly. And just when you are about to say something, an elbow wades your face through. These are the times when I desperately think to become a Jehadi. Boom! Happiness!
I spend ten minutes of my regretful life in these trains and experience various chemical occurrences happening on my body. It’s my sweat, Mr. Sharma’s sweat, that old man’s sweat, and some unfamiliar mixture of liquids sliding down my body. They begin from my forehead, glaciate down to my neck, while those liquids mix like ‘Ganga-Jamuna Sangam’ and smoothly flow-down till my belly. And why do I wish for fresh air? I don’t know what I am breathing. The air passed from someone’s mouth or – a fucking butt?
It seems the MNCs in Mumbai are providing free first-class travel to their employees. That means more MNCs stuff more losers in the first-class compartment. And everyone seems to have chip on their shoulders. An accidental touch and they can show you the most venomous of feminine expressions. At least I react that way! Because it’s almost a gay fest when 100 men from all despicable backgrounds cling together. And I’ve seen that men strike when the iron is hot. Be it intentional or unintentional. You do turn into homophiles for each other. Why would a man grab my crotch and why would someone try to sniff my armpits? These are the questions even satan will shiver to answer to.
So…
Just die everyone who intentionally and unintentionally inflicted tortures and pains upon me causing me lose ounces of blood!
