During my teenage years, one of my teachers taught me how to grade BOYS. A graders are those, when come across a walking girl while riding a bike, just look at her and keep riding. B graders are those, who go past the girl, turn their head and look at her back too. The C graders were those who look at her back and ride themselves into the fences (and get hurt). According to my teacher, those who did not even look at the girl are not Boys.
I am not sure which grade I would fit in, but,I know I was a Boy, and I never rode into a fence. So, I am either A or a B grader. Even when I relocated myself from Jaffna to Peradeniya, to College Station, to Fayettville, to Griffith, to Lahore, to Sydney, to Musact and now to Delhi, I pretty much maintain my grade, I confess. There was a time Jaffna women were most appealing, then Mexicans in Texas, later Punjabis in Lahore.
Now its very simple, the younger ones are most appealing than the older ones.
As I walk through messy and crowded streets of Delhi, my eyes some or other spot a young girl, looking trendy and cheerful. This is especially true when there is a group of them. These young mobs of girls ooze in confidence, mostly in a blue jeans but wearing an Indian Kurta as a top, chin up, hair bundled as a pony tail of some sort. Every step they make, they walk as conquerors of the world.
Where are the boys then? Or, am I still being a BOY, only attracted to the girls,so that I am unable to see the boys?
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