Bostonian Tharki

 

I was on the T with Yashas up in Boston today. Went to do a bit of touristy stuff over at the MIT museum, Harvard Square and then finally to the Quincy market and Boston Commons in downtown Boston. There was this little interesting story at the MIT museum, in the hologram section. This dude actually tried to click a picture of a hologram on his digital camera, and in the process, made it amply clear that he wasn't an MIT student :-) ( The MIT museum was awesome by the way; there was like this really cool section on the history of high speed photography. Completely orgasmic!! Harold Edgerton, the guy who pioneered this, actually went to MIT because he was interested in seeing the effects of lightning on synchronous motors. That he was able to link this with the great work he eventually did should stand as inspiration for all us wannabe researchers out there. Another reason I mention him is the pride I feel on account of his being an electric power engineer. More on him in a later post) Anyway this post is not about that; it's not about the MIT museum. It's about a tharki uncle on the 'T'.

Let's start at the beginning. For the unitiated, the 'T' is just what they call the MBTA (Massachussets Bay Transportation Authority) subway in Boston. So we are waiting for our train at the T station and on the platform opposite us is what a lot of guys would describe as an extremely do-able chick, the kind which inspires the I'd-do-her-in-a-heartbeat reactions. She's wearing like these next to nothing clothes, so I give her this usual, cursory, appraising glance and then look away, you know, 'cause it isn't polite to stare at women. Just then we notice, there's a desi uncle on the same platform. And he's looking at her. Also in a I'd-nail-her-in-a-heartbeat, sort of a way. Only he doesn't look away. He keeps staring; and his face is this inscrutable mask, so I can't tell if he's scowling or just horny like hell. Well, then Yashas and I happen to get into the same compartment as the chick and guess who, yes, Uncle Tharki. So we are sitting on the seat opposite her, and our libidinous friend is sitting a couple of seats away from her. Yashas and I are discussing some EE stuff and suddenly we notice Uncle Tharki looking the chick over; multiplexing his concentration powers on her long legs and not insignificant assets. Yashas still insists that he is scowling and that he merely disapproves of her dressing in that fashion. Me, no way. I am thoroughly convinced that he was doing a lot of thinking, getting his other head into overdrive. Who the heck keeps staring at someone in disapproval? I mean, yeah, you give one disapproving, condescending glare and look away. What's with the repeated leering? It was effing hilarious, looking at this pathetic guy, at least 45-50 years old, casting lustful glances at this chick, who couldn't have been any more than 20-21. The poor girl even used her compact once to make sure she looked alright. Little was she aware that to our Bostonian tharki, her face was her least interesting feature.