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She said that they lived in a village on the outskirts of Delhi. She had come here to get a job and earn some good money, as the shopkeeper paid her pretty well for being a relative. I realized that she was pretty modern, even though she was a village girl. She told me to get comfortable and sit on the sofa.I sat down and she went in to make tea. There were many clothes, innerwear too, strewn in a corner of the room (I guess for washing). I asked her “Baaki ki 2 ladkiya kaha hai?” (Where are. He looked up the garden in bewilderment, and found he was looking at a new, yellow brick house with a neat tiled roof. Where could he be? He had to get out of this garden. What if someone should come? They might call a policeman, and Dad would be so cross. He could see a gate on the side of the house by the dustbin. When he got there he could just reach up to a bolt near the top if he dragged the upended wheelbarrow over. Yes, he could reach up and loose the bolt. He dragged the barrow back. By the time I got to my first class, I felt pretty close to normal, andafter a couple of days, I was so used to panties the idea of buying men'sunderwear seemed silly.Then, a week after the panties had arrived, more changes happened.My pants became women's pants.Not overly feminine, in fact the only reason I knew they were women's wasbecause they lacked a fly or zipper, and they had no pockets.Lacking any other options, I wore a pair to class, and put on a lightjacket so I had a place to carry. Walking along I see face after face of my long lost desire, feeling saddened by the whole affair, walking aimlessly towards nowhere in particular down the street towards nowhere in particular, I come across a park bench on the sidewalk and decide to sit and gather my thoughts. Looking at my phone I log onto my facebook, feeling rather shitty I quickly trawl through my posts, nothing getting my attention not even the raise of an eyebrow till I come across a happy picture of you, my heart sinks.
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