Filtering Through!

I had the natural advantage. With a gifted eye for cleavages, which aren't captured in normal life and are momentary, I landed in a place of abundance; things were just rosy. I had come to Delhi for training, but professional occurings never consume my curiosity and I sat through the three day training like a bad Picasso painting. Once out, cleavages from all four sides at one single moment caught my eye more than at least 10 times while the walk from office to the guest house, the distance being 2 kms. This is something of a rarity in Hyderabad. Delhi girls wear sexy clothes; and it's very alarming and disturbing for a person from Hyderabad; used to search for either low waist trousers slipping a bit further down and exposing some sexy lingerie or skirts flying a bit above the comfortable zone. The search itself was an effort and would commit a whole day at the right places to get one successful hunt. In Hyderabad low waist trousers, the girls wear, are normally ones that start just below their breasts; so you could imagine what we went through; hence Delhi's surprise. But then there was too little time I had gone there for, most of which was consumed in the training; after we were left and I began the walk to my guest house, my head would spin so fast I had no idea what and where I was looking at. Things just appeared too fast, for a short time, in huge numbers, and disappeared. I was left so frustrated and envious I puked when I reached my room. My digestion was in tatters. My face turned into one that of a serial killer. I had brought two beautiful books to read; they lay forgotten, as if the awards they had won had been stripped off their merit. I tried to get drunk, but the agony of not being able to remember all I had seen didn't let me get drunk. I thought of Hyderabad and hated the thought. Three days passed and I had become monster looking. The president of the company on the last day said something about my appearance, about how wrong it is to look like this or some such shit; I wasn't listening at all. My mind was somewhere else, and it was refusing to return. On my flight back I bid an emotional farewell to Delhi and cursed my destination. As soon as I landed I went unconscious, and was brought home godknowshow. I lay in a hospital for 3 days and the dreams never stopped. Then eventually the serenity pervaded my mind and gave me the calm I used to hold before. I didn't even realise I had become sick. Fuck cleavages, I thought. It's my home, this Hyderabad. Delhi was just too fast, but going nowhere; too smart, for nothing; sexy, but impotently so; full of people but empty within; it disgusts me now to think of it. Cleavages, ya we look for it but love it when we find it. There, we shouldn't because there is nothing else to look for. It's a capitalistic capital.