The one, who looks me in the face rather than looking me in the pussy, breasts, cleavage, butts or legs, will be the only man in my eyes.
Let me tell you a story.
I live in Chandigarh. I don’t think!
Because when I walk on the streets of Chandigarh, wearing knee-length shorts and a full-sleeved shirt, I can still see the heads turning, I can still hear the whistles blowing, those absurd comments are still audible.
Oops, wait, how can I forget?
I AM HINDUSTAN.
I AM ASHAMED.
We ain’t got any men here but only pussy-fuckers.