Inhaling sharply, I boarded the yellow-green monster. So this is how sardines feel inside the tin. A sudden lurch followed. The paan-chewing uncle grabbed that moment to help me in my battle against that nagging itch on my back.
“Kaku! Thanks, but I can scratch myself,” I hissed.
The altruistic kaku grinned at me.
As commuters rushed towards the door, I rammed my bracelet-laced hand into his wrist. The grin turned to a grimace as the sharp edge gleefully found its target. Feeling like a victorious Bengali after procuring a hilsa from the Padma, I alighted from the Bongaon local.
