The girl with a Red Lipstick.
“Dada, 2 for ganeshguri.”
I said, as I handed over two partially soiled ten rupees
note to the conductor of the city bus. The conductor was, by his looks, a
middle aged guy, probably in his 30’s.He was wearing a deep blue colour fully
soiled and stained uniform. The condition of the uniform very well spoke that
it was more of a burden imposed upon him rather than a part of his duty. The
stench of sweat drenched body was filling the little left space in the bus,
with utmost dreadful scent, which even overpowered the costly deodorants put on
by numerous fellow passengers.
