Men will be always be men
It’s an often used phrase for selling men’s products. Be it Beer or Briefs, every time it works exceptionally well. Does this line act as a mirror for the inhabitants of Mars? Or is it an expression that men love to hear for themselves again and again? Here is an incident that unravels the mysteries shrouded around this phrase.
It was an evening hour when Metro trains were busy ferrying its homebound passengers. In one such crowded trains, a loud phone conversation made me curious to lookout for the caller. A dandy dude was standing close by wrapped himself in a pair of pencil fit blue jeans and a flashy body hugging green tee. But his weather torn skin and his dark eye sockets gave the count of his age. Apart from his phone conversation, his oversized wrist watch and a snazzy hand set caught my attention. He was desperately trying to win the heart of the person on the other end of the phone. Unfortunately, he was running short of words to express his sincerity, so he kept repeating the lines like a worn-out gramophone. Finally, he asked the person to go out with him in a secluded place but it was hard to figure out whether the receiver of the call was convinced to meet him. He kept the phone and instantly his well practiced fingers started strolling through the contact list of his phone book and gave the same business pitch to many of his prospective clients. But before I could make out whether there was any buyer for this ‘Romeo on sale’, the conversation between two middle aged men standing next to the self-proclaimed lover boy gave a new twist to the incident.
Apart from sharing the same age bracket, compartment and probably the same boundary wall, there was hardly anything common between the two. One of them had worn a traditional safari, an unsaid uniform of the traders. His marital bliss was protruding through his shirt and fingers were telling a tale of his fall for the celestial bodies. While listening to Romeo’s conversation he started narrating his own hay day’s stories to his friend standing next to him. “The girls in my college used to shower me with chocolates, roses, and cards. I never approached the girls; they came on my way.” Old memories added a new glow to his face and he continued,” it was like a Pipe Piper Story. But like an obedient son I followed my father’s choice when I decided to settle down in my life. “
The neighbour was getting fidgety and eagerly waiting for his turn to flaunt his uber-sexy side to his friend. The man was in a pair of brown corduroy trousers and his immaculately designed white shirt proved that he was extra conscious about his clothes. He tactfully began his story with a brief introduction of the media world. He declared that the industry is superfluous with young, smart, and outgoing girls. He smirked and said,” Young guys chase girls and they chase me. My salt and pepper stubble was more alluring than those clean shaven dudes.” He winked at the trader and admired himself on a glass window pane of the compartment.
By now, the long lost boyhood of the trader sprung up with a full gusto and he was in mood to display his virility at least to his so called high and mighty neighbour. He claimed that he doesn’t walk around the housing society just to avoid the craving glances of the colony ladies. It was bit too much for the media man to stomach it, so he turned around from the speaker and snootily looked at the oversized wrist watch of Romeo. He said, “It’s easily available in every Pan Shop of Nehru Place for hundred rupees.” But before he could finish, the coy trader declared, “Arrey! These watches are lying like a putrefying mound on the pavements of Chandni Chowk...”
Before I could get to see a cracking climax, the familiar voice of a metro announcer interrupted the show by announcing the next station. Hearing the announcement all the three men vanished into the moving crowd.
But they left an impression in my mind that men will always be men!
It was an evening hour when Metro trains were busy ferrying its homebound passengers. In one such crowded trains, a loud phone conversation made me curious to lookout for the caller. A dandy dude was standing close by wrapped himself in a pair of pencil fit blue jeans and a flashy body hugging green tee. But his weather torn skin and his dark eye sockets gave the count of his age. Apart from his phone conversation, his oversized wrist watch and a snazzy hand set caught my attention. He was desperately trying to win the heart of the person on the other end of the phone. Unfortunately, he was running short of words to express his sincerity, so he kept repeating the lines like a worn-out gramophone. Finally, he asked the person to go out with him in a secluded place but it was hard to figure out whether the receiver of the call was convinced to meet him. He kept the phone and instantly his well practiced fingers started strolling through the contact list of his phone book and gave the same business pitch to many of his prospective clients. But before I could make out whether there was any buyer for this ‘Romeo on sale’, the conversation between two middle aged men standing next to the self-proclaimed lover boy gave a new twist to the incident.
Apart from sharing the same age bracket, compartment and probably the same boundary wall, there was hardly anything common between the two. One of them had worn a traditional safari, an unsaid uniform of the traders. His marital bliss was protruding through his shirt and fingers were telling a tale of his fall for the celestial bodies. While listening to Romeo’s conversation he started narrating his own hay day’s stories to his friend standing next to him. “The girls in my college used to shower me with chocolates, roses, and cards. I never approached the girls; they came on my way.” Old memories added a new glow to his face and he continued,” it was like a Pipe Piper Story. But like an obedient son I followed my father’s choice when I decided to settle down in my life. “
The neighbour was getting fidgety and eagerly waiting for his turn to flaunt his uber-sexy side to his friend. The man was in a pair of brown corduroy trousers and his immaculately designed white shirt proved that he was extra conscious about his clothes. He tactfully began his story with a brief introduction of the media world. He declared that the industry is superfluous with young, smart, and outgoing girls. He smirked and said,” Young guys chase girls and they chase me. My salt and pepper stubble was more alluring than those clean shaven dudes.” He winked at the trader and admired himself on a glass window pane of the compartment.
By now, the long lost boyhood of the trader sprung up with a full gusto and he was in mood to display his virility at least to his so called high and mighty neighbour. He claimed that he doesn’t walk around the housing society just to avoid the craving glances of the colony ladies. It was bit too much for the media man to stomach it, so he turned around from the speaker and snootily looked at the oversized wrist watch of Romeo. He said, “It’s easily available in every Pan Shop of Nehru Place for hundred rupees.” But before he could finish, the coy trader declared, “Arrey! These watches are lying like a putrefying mound on the pavements of Chandni Chowk...”
Before I could get to see a cracking climax, the familiar voice of a metro announcer interrupted the show by announcing the next station. Hearing the announcement all the three men vanished into the moving crowd.
But they left an impression in my mind that men will always be men!
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