JUICES and ?????

It happened to be in her twelfth grade. A November evening, clock hand heading towards seven. A narrow, dark lane with single dimmed street-light, and the passer-by being just her. Mathematics it was, she left her home to take tuition for, like other evenings. You better be told, this particular subject never inspired her legs to reach her sir soon. Hence she walked slow without any hurry. Suddenly, she felt something hard-touched her chest. Frozen, she stood like daydreaming. Recovering her senses after a short while, she bulged her eyes wider at something that ghast away with speed. No sooner, it disappeared into a darkness that her sight couldn't reach. Vexed, she had two questions in her mind. First, do nightmares come even on streets? Second, was that a street-dog or something else?

Eighteen was her probable age that evening. Imagining that smoggy incident, I'm twenty-four, capable enough by now to discover myself the reason of the pungency in that air. That wasn't just a chest hard-touched, but the tender breasts of a teen being preyed upon. And definitely, it wasn't a street-dog, but yet something, perhaps some worse creature that could easily lift its fore-leg to touch the juicy fruits hanging from a tree, and escape away soon after its testosterone juices have reached its heart of fulfillment.

That eighteen years old tree once happened to be me. Many may call her dumb. Well, I would argue then and call her innocent. You see, her unpreparedness to meet such a mishap could never be her fault. But every time I remember that incident, I feel the blood rush to my head, boiling and fuming. Less because that girl couldn't protest then, and more because too many such "somethings" still exist.

It reminds me of the deep words uttered by Julia Roberts in her "Notting Hill" film of 1999. "What is it about men and nudity huh? Particularly breasts! How can you be so interested in them? ... But seriously, they are just breasts. Every second person in the world has them. ... But they are looking there for milk your mother has in...and a thousand of them. So what's the fuss about?"