I long to break the glass wall....

I was in London, yet again..just the other day...I believe there will be constant travelling up and down from Brighton to London and back...The term is nearly over...

Every time I am in London, I go like a moth attracted by the flame to Oxford Circus...The tube station is by now familiar...I can walk with my eyes closed towards the exit that takes me to Oxford Street. More often than not, I indulge myself in some good old fashioned window shopping...If the posters of 'Sale' manage to penetrate the tinted shades that I keep my eyes covered with these days, then my credit card quivers in fear...in anticipation of a merciless assault on its plastic spirit - a reckless swipe.

The cash register is prominently just inside the huge entrance...I swear I saw it wink at me and rub its hand in glee...The last time I was there, I spent most of the money I made with part time work - the excuse then was 'It's my Birthday'.

This time too, I had a valid excuse...In a month's time I'm going home...A few little presents to fill my empty bags...The evening was all planned out...My backpack was deliberately empty to stuff the shopping bags and make it easier to carry the loot back home...I swear I heard my credit card sigh the way harassed employees do as the Boss leads them on...

But this time around, I met someone...I chatted with her...and she cured me of the need for Retail Therapy..

NO.. she was not a counsellor...(You think I'd waste my precious time and money relying on the NHS here??)nor an evangelist spreading the good word of the Lord...She was a mannequin....at my favourite store Zara...

Hmmmm...now where did I meet her? I walked out of H&M disgusted at the lack of anything that I thought made it to my Take Home To India list....Normally when there is neither the willingness nor the money, there are usually a zillion things that scream out to me to buy them...And I walk like a coward, with my head bowed reciting all the important chores that had dragged me to London....Today, H&M had nothing for me...Losers, they lost a client...And then my mental GPS lead me automatically to Zara...That shows my determination to spend money...

Zara to the uninitiated, is a brand that is far more expensive,veers towards designer chic...

And there she was, outside...in the pretty window..with an assortment of men...

I could not help myself...I looked down at the lard I conceal cleverly with pretty cuts of fabric and jackets..and there she was...looking effortlessly sculpted...no evidence of workouts or liposuction...it was her hair that enthralled me...Jet black..shoulder length with an underlying fringe of shockingly white hair..I guess they call it Platinum Blonde...Same difference...

Cool Linens are the Zara summer look...attitude poured right down from the slant of her head through the practised pose of her right hand resting on her bent thigh...The Barbie of Zaradom...and next to her sat her Ken...Looking sufficiently in awe and adoring...but a couple of inches away from her...

As I studied her look, I saw her raise her eyebrow at me...And I glared back...Haughty, she knows I could suck all my breath in out of my belly and hold it somewhere in my ribs...but I'd still not be able to sit that effortlessly without worrying about where the unflattering creases were forming on my attire...

Is this the look you want, she seemed to mock...No thank you, not really my style - was my retort...she tried angling her hand closer to Ken...Dumb Ken was lost in translation...I sympathised...and then the dam broke..

Out came the longing to be normal....

I watch about a hundred thousand people walk up and down the street....Some look in with the same envy disguised as indifference that you threw my way...the others just look through me...They walk on...children stand here, unnoticed by their harassed mothers...making faces at me..knowing well that I won't scare them back...I try..but my muscles are sculpted in plastic..they don't yield when I tell them to.

I want to walk on the other side...I want to get out of this place...I sympathised..asked if her legs ached from holding the pose for long...my legs don't cramp...but I long to walk...to feel the ground under my feet...to feel the breeze blow through my hair...Then I wouldn't have to care about showing off these clothes for hapless ones like you to be enthralled and succumb to the cash register's ugly advances....What's the point of being beautiful? I want to be free....

Now I see her in a new light...She is beautiful, she is classy..she is caged...a glass wall keeps her enslaved...no where to run...I don't have her style, nor the panache to carry off what she can...but my legs are free...it can take me away...moving when I will them to move...So move them, I did....Walked away fast...

Smiled a little smile to myself....Revelled in the freedom...the plastic in my wallet jingled happily along with the pound coins...they were safe..for now..

Happily,