The Pee-men of Delhi

They came in one by one. These silent Delhi men. From morning to midnight. Some were tall with fierce eyes. Some were short. Some were fat. Others looked famished with sunken cheeks. They all had one thing in mind. Some did it while standing. Others squatted. Some had leather bags carefully balanced in their hands. Some had cars which they parked on the side before coming to me. Many had no possessions. They all smelled differently and had different sort of underwear: from red to purple to white; from Jockey to Rupa to home-made ones. These chaddis ranged from relatively dry to extremely soggy. But skip the details. No point. For they all leaked on me--yesterday, today, and they will do it tomorrow too. No one pities me. I'm just a wall.