Number-plated memory

Young man. Striped shirt. Big-ish car... cannot tell which make; never cared enough about models and names.

Young man leans out to ask for directions. The rest is a familiar, old story.

'Where is PVR Saket?'
'Do you live around here?'
'Would you like to come with me to PVR?'

And after I say 'No', he says, 'Fucking bitch'.

I stop, turn around, take a good, long look at him. No words. I glance down at his number plate, and walk on ahead.

He follows.

'Excuse me, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am.'

Whoever was driving HR29 Q 1782, on Monday evening, June 18th, 2007, is not a very nice young man. The apology was not accepted.

[Cross-posted on known turf]


Vivek said...

this is something very strange... if i should have given the powers.. i would have shot that man on the spot... all 6 bullets of gun into him.. i may be wrong by such thinking but sometimes such decisons are mandatory and we cannot depend on our govt always.

Anonymous said...

What did you do about it? I hope you got him to task.

Anonymous said...

Awesome post