Yaal Cafe

by Delilah

Someone said,
the crab curry was good
So we drove one night
speeding down marine drive
with the windows rolled down.
Salt in our faces
hot hot parotas in the backseat.
“Wait in the car”
He said
trying in his manly way
to spare me
my breasts, my legs
from gleeful stares.
So I stayed back
turned the radio up
and my seat low down.
Thats when they came,
there were five of them.
Sarongs at the knee
shirts long sleeved
middle-aged drunks.
Maybe it was pay day.
And there I was
a little bonus
conveniently on the way
before they got home
to harass their wives.
I stared straight ahead
unseeing the lewd gestures
unhearing their derision
heart in my throat
when one of them
banged on my glass.
He had a moustache.
That night,
I wished I wore a burqa
or had a machine gun.
I wished
we had ordered
Chinese instead.