Venus with a difference

Before I started biking, my commute to office took an hour by bus and the route passed through a variety of socio-economic zones. That gave rise to interesting possibilities and even more fascinating co-passengers. They ranged from causal laborers to polished analysts, from homely housewives to slick salesmen and so on.

Few days ago, a girl boarded the bus. Nothing out of ordinary, we have quite a few women on the bus. What set her apart was her exceptional beauty. And she seemed to be aware of, and probably used to, the effect of her presence on surrounding people. She had the magnificence of youth, the one which needs no complexion, contour or cosmetics for support. Nevertheless, all the three she had in plenty. She reminded me of Botticelli’s ‘Nascita de Venere’, except that she emerged out of the dirt road with a lot more garments.

As luck would have it, she occupied the seat right in front of mine. She got out a laptop and started working on some spreadsheet. A beauty with brains, wow! My reverie was broken by a loud song; which I figured out was her mobile ringing. She picked it up with a curt ‘hello’ and did not speak for fifteen seconds. What followed next was a stream of choicest abuses which would make a sailor in gale blush. The words were not your spur-of-the-moment kind; no sir, they were well thought phrases encompassing the other person’s career, parentage and the rest of his life. And her volume was loud enough to attract the attention of those who were not attracted already.

This continued for about five minutes. After that, she hastily shoved her laptop in her bag, stood up and moved towards the exit. I guess the whole bus was thinking the same: Nature, bestowing beauty generously, balanced it in the verbal department. As soon as she got down, she cleared her throat loudly and spat on the road.

That was it. I had a name for her. A name that will dwarf Mr. Boticelli’s prosaic title of his masterpiece but will convey the truth as it is.

Swearing Venus with phlegm.