Life in the Locals

@ work; surreptitious and cautious.

As I stand on one leg during my heart-wrenching journey from home to work, I ponder upon life's great mysteries.
Is there any permanent solution to hair fall?
Is there any solution to hair fall?
Is cellulite the same as flab?
Or are both really blubber?
When will that old lady in pink take a bath and cut her toenails?

In between my meanderings, I am rudely interrupted by this little girl who bowls into me. I try to look patronizing and exasperated without actually opening my mouth, when the old lady in pink gives the little girl the old two-one because I accidentally nudge her while being kicked in the groin. Thank God she knew it was the girl's fault. Conscience is on a vacation these days.

Mankhurd arrives and all the females with baskets of sea-shit thankfully decide to leave. Not a relief though. A fresh shipment of crap wades in, with a stink that'll raise the dead. A, umm, large lady and the lady beside her get engaged in a pleasant conversation.
Large Lady: Can you please move?
Neighbor Lady: Grumble Grumble
Large Lady: CAN YOU PLEASE MOVE??
Neighbor Lady: Could you eat less?
@#$$@@@*&&##

Kurla Stn: Nobody actually moves, but by the sheer magic of Physics we all tumble out of the train.
A Lady wails: MY HAND! My hand!
The girl next to me shakes her head: I know! Look at my nail-paint! It looks brown now.

@work; overdue