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Mabi Singh



I wrote this in 2004.

Place: a Library in Boston
Duration: 30-45 minutes

I was trying hard to study for my exams in a public library . A pretty girl probably in her twenties came and sat in front of the table where I sat.
I could not stop looking at her and you may want to call it stalking.

She was wearing a tank top with spaghetti lace with straps of undergarment visible. She took out her cell phone from the pocket book and looked at it and kept it over the table, near the …

stack of books.

She took off her rubber band from the back of her head and bit it partially in the mouth and let loose her hair. She shook her head, got all her hair at the back and with both hands arranged the hair to a pony tail and wore the hair band. The cleavage was more pronounced.

She opened her books and flipped some pages.

She brought the end tails of her pony tail in between her nose and the margins of her upper lips as if she was enjoying the scent of her own hair or as if she was trying to make a psuedo-moustache. She carefully untangled some strains of her hair and I could see a large portion of sclera of her eyes as she was trying to get the view of her hair probably way up on her fore head. “There were no more tangles”- I wanted to tell her.

She threw her hair back again.

She flipped through couple of pages of book and highlighted couple of lines with her fluorescent highlighter.

She scratched her head near the temple and with the palm of her hand, kind of patted her hair near the vortex of head. She took out a mirror probably 2 by 3 inches in dimension from her backpack and checked her image. I could almost feel the faint smile that spread through her pink lips. She checked her lips by pouting and looked like with some difficulty, checked her hair in the frontal area and tried to rearrange some strains of hair. They would not stay in the desired place so she took the rubber band off the pony tail and letting them spread over her back. Her hair must be so silky that it flowed like a water fall.

She ran her hand at the back and looked like she felt something open and pulled her tank top down. I could not see what she was exactly trying to cover.

She got some strains of hair on her hand and started playing and rolling as she kept glaring her eyes on the book she had. She rolled those few strains of her on her left index finger. Her hair must be real long because her index finger was barely visible. She let those strains of hair go and I could see them getting curled at the side of her oval face.

She kind of kept her head down and all the hair from both sides fell on the book. She turned the head on one side and with the help of her right hand, she managed to move all the hair from right side to dangle on the left side. With all her fingers close to scalp and with one smooth and continuous stroke, she ran those fingers from the roots of her thick, silky hair to the tips. She did the same thing again but that time some bunch and kept close to the nose as if she was enjoying the scent of her hair. She then threw all the hair on her back with both of her hands as if she was modeling for some shampoo.

She then adjusted the strap of her bra and tank top which nearly fell from her shoulders.

She straightened her head and looked towards me. I quickly took off my eyes from her to my books. But I think she caught me gazing at her. What ever!

She took out a kind of clip from her back pack and bite it in between her nice pearly white teeth and rolled the hair on the left hand, held it in position and with right hand secured the bun tightly with a chopstick like clip. Still some strands, probably not long enough to be incorporated in that bun, were hanging in front of the face and she neatly tugged them on her pinnae of ears. She checked the mirrors once again and smiled. Then, she took out a brush then a comb to comb her hair, in the front.

She checked her cell phone. Took a deep breadth and tried to make some note with her left hand on the hair at the temple area. I don’t know why she took off the clip, which had kept all the hair off her neck and shoulder and prevented from collection of some heat. She looked better like that but she let the hair go. She shook the head and I could see the hair moving from side to side like a cascade. She bent her head on the side and let all hair fall. She kept running the fingers from the root to the tip of hair as if her fingers were big afro type combs. Got a bunch of them and looked at them, slid them in between the index and the middle finger repeatedly before she threw them at the back. Then she ran her hand at the back and fixed something.

Suddenly, the phone vibrated and I could clearly see a wide smile on her face_ almost like Virgin Atlantics ad of Boston to London. She quickly took out her brush and mirror again. She combed her hair on the sides first, bending her head and letting the hair flow freely on the side. Then the back and finally the front area. With her hands, she threw her hair back and shrugged her head couple of times.
Quickly, she packed her books and the accessories and as she turned her back, I saw a nice tatoo of a pattern, showing over her low rise pants.

0 thoughts on “Hair

  1. Mabi I admire your courage to write stuffs like this. Many writers were anxious to express their selves but you, you are different you wrote that article cause that is what you have thought and bravely published it. Good Job!

  2. sick,

    When you read, read them in toto. If you take a few lines out of context then they may deliver totally different meaning.

    Suggestions to EU

    1. Flag post to sticky topics that may potentially harm psyche of children. (despite parents having their own parental control.)As EU grows there will be more sticky topics. As in this case, I did not think as sticky but people perceived.

    2. When the comments are made, I do not want to see the IP address of the commenter. As I found out the ways to know where the comments are coming from and who the potential commenter may be. I have not done so but I can, so it is possible to manage the message in such a way that the email is devoid of IP address ?


  3. tat’s sick,

    I am not that imaginative like you have perceived. Its just that I observed her movements in real life and was fascinated by what she could do with her hair in that short period of time and put it up in writing as humor. I don’t buy your idea of me being “obscene” or “X rated” material or “being sick” with this description of an event. BTW, There are some juicier topics around.

    Can you point me out what was so inappropriate ?

    Since I respect your concern, I would like to suggest that if the topics contain material that are deemed inappropriate for children, then there should be some mechanism to flag these articles.


    you wrote:
    खै यो पोष्टर माबि को मनोगति के हो। लेख त केश सुम्सुमाई मै अडकिए जस्तो। एक कदम यता न उता।

    Thats it. Nothing more nothing less. And people are categorizing as sexy, sick and product of a pervert for this little humor (humor is the ability or quality of people, objects, or situations to evoke feelings of amusement in other people. The term encompasses a form of entertainment or human communication which evokes such feelings, or which makes people laugh or feel happy. Ref: Wikipedia)

    I made two observations based on some of comments:

    1. I am not a good humor writer.
    2. People do not have “sense of humor”.

  4. धेरै वर्ष पहिले को कुरा, एक पटक मेरो साथीको घर(ठमेल)को कौसिमा बसि वरीपरी बर्ड वाचिङ गर्दै थियौ, नगिचको मोटेलको छानामा एक जोडी खैरे सन बाथको मजा लिइ राखेको देख्यौ। केटी चाहि टु पिस मा। अनि मेरो साथिलाई के चाहियो। तल बाट दुरबीन ल्याई त्यै तिर तेर्स्याई हाल्यो। यो कुरा खैरे नी ले चाल पाए छन क्यारे, खैरे सङ खासखुस गर्यो अनि दुबै मुसुक्क हास्यो। लगतै केटीले कालो चस्मा लगाए, आफ्नो ब्राँ खुरुक्क खोलेर देखाइ हाले, साथी र म जील।

  5. खै यो पोष्टर माबि को मनोगति के हो। लेख त केश सुम्सुमाई मै अडकिए जस्तो। एक कदम यता न उता। एक दुई थाम मा ब्राँ मिलाएको र आधी नितम्ब देखेको प्रसङ कोट्याए पनि देख्या नदेखे जस्तो पो लेख्छ बा यो त, सस्पेन्स मुभि जस्तो के। यो त पाठकहरुलाई अलि हजम भएन नि।

    ब्लग भनेको नानीहरुका लाई होइन भनेर थाहा छैन कि के हो।

  6. that is great that you have an imagination, but personally that disgust me. Why would you write about that? Are there not under aged bloggers out here. What message are you giving them?

  7. Mabi dai, your story is poignant, spontaneous, and vivid. I find it amusing. It seems her cascading hair fascinated you. Thank God, her cell phone rang and had to leave. You would have written a book if she had stayed in the library a bit longer.

  8. Wow Mabi! Good imagination. Good writing and you have caught up detail so well.

    That’s the reason I hate to go to library for study. Always some distraction.

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