‘The Taxi Driver and the Whore’

She was wearing the perfume Chameli no. 5. He was driving a Furrati Taxi.
They were in perfectly complementary professions.
He would drive the clients to her. I return she would sleep with him once in a while.
The Furrati’s back seat doubled up for the room.
And then one evening…
When the driver would be tired from a hard day’s work and sex would be the last thing on his mind…
Her work day would be beginning with the onset of the night and sex would be the first thing on her mind…
They would be playful and pally.
They would crack jokes of some kind.
He would blackmail her that he won’t bring any more clients to her.
In return she would try to cuddle him to remind him how close they get once in a while.
And that they are professionally bound.
And both would smile awkwardly.
This is the view I get from the landing of the stairs in front of Yaadgar.
When they do this, I am green with envy.
For they know better versions of love than mine.
Someone for who love is only an obsession, this display confuses further.
Tonight she does not find any client.
Tonight he is not able to find one for her.
He does not think much of what other drivers have to say about their relationship.
She couldn’t care less.
The high point of their day being their playful hugs for each other.
And they do not care if an envious stranger is watching them from his temporary abode thinking thoughts that confuse him only further.
They are completely oblivious of the fact that they have been the only thing worth writing about on the course of this stranger’s day.