[Yayy, Yayy yayy, I get to speak like Nepaliketi... You can also read this on Page 6(hoki 7... keep looking) of Dec 2's Kathmandu's post, but they removed the critical paragraphs, those bastards (no offense, dai), so now I look like a kook who's really scared of girls... Anyway, here's the piece, unedited]
The other day, I got this feeling that I was being watched. Under normal circumstances, I would be flattered that someone had considered me worthy of a gaze or a stare. Since the place was sparsely populated and it was getting dark, I felt more insecure than dark, and dared to look directly into the eyes of my probable admirer( I hoped).
A lady of around my age was the perpetrator. Instead of silently congratulating myself for wearing that sweater that goes particularly with my fair complexion, I decided to ascertain that she was not really planning to kidnap me. I looked at her and coughed loudly, and then cleared by throat even louder. The spell of stare seemed to break.
“I am so sorry,” she blushed, “ I didn't mean to stare at you. It's just that – that--” I decided to take things to my hands. “Oh, don't worry about that. A lot of girls stare at me all the time; it's okay,” I said, winking a her. She seemed to be lost in thought for some moments before she finally said, “Err, actually. There's dal on you sweater. I should have told you earlier.” Uh oh.
To be fair, I don't really get that many stares, like most guys. When I do get them, they're usually quite that embarrassing. Sometimes even more. In grade 11, I had an eye at this pretty girl in the microbus. She would look at me and smile, and then look at her female friend and again smile. Once or twice, she pointed at me and seemed to be saying something, I ignored them because I thought they'd look to desperate. So when we got down at the same stop( or maybe I got down in her stop), she called me. My heart jumped. Oh my god.
Yes, I would have thanked goddess Urvashi if she had vaporized me at that instant. Apparently, a public office that delivers mail and packages was open when it shouldn't have been. I would check myself whenever any girl laughed near me for the four following months. I did not talk to non-related females for two weeks following the incident, afraid that I'd embarrass myself again.
And then when I do get the stares, other people take the credit. I was with two of my female friends in a restaurant, facing them. One of them complained that someone at a table behind us was 'creepily' staring at her. I moved my chair so that the 'view' was blocked. The other friend said that now he was looking even more intently at her, and was standing up and turning his head around check them. I decided to see things for myself.
It was one of my old friends. He had thought he had seen me, and all the time he had been trying to confirm whether it was really me. He still laughs at the incident, imagining how weird my friends must have felt when he stared at 'them' so 'weirdly'. “I swear Runil, I was not staring 'weirdly' at you,: he reminds me. Damn. Won't someone, please?