She had a couple of engagements scheduled for the evening. After wrapping them to her satisfaction, she wanted to catch up with herself over a cup of coffee before she returned home to her family. She could use that sliver of solitude, that quietness to structure her buzzing thoughts, for it had been a long and hectic week.
On cue, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from a nearby cafe.
As she placed her order for a bracing cup, the corner of her eye caught the luscious mango soufflé - golden, light, utterly sinful!
Her mouth watered, and her spirit wavered.
Chucking discipline, she asked for a piece to be added to her tray, found a secluded corner, and settled down to enjoy her me-time.
Then an idea struck her. Why not go the whole hog and indulge in some razzmatazz?
She asked for a knife, a candle, and a light; placed the lit candle on her pastry; set her phone on filter mode; took some snazzy pictures; blew the candle with a flourish; cut the piece humming softly; and scooped it up in a jiffy, savouring it thoroughly while the person behind the counter watched her with an indulgent smile.
It is truly one of those endearing moments to see a woman enjoy her food deeply with such delight.
Eating done, she hailed a cab and left for home to tackle her life.
Unknown to her, two people, opposite in gender but united in unsolicited judgement, saw her celebrating, enjoying her private moments unabashedly, filmed it and uploaded it to their respective SM channels.
What about her consent, one might ask? Huh, when was that even a factor ?
One wrote, 'The plight of urban women, alone and uncared for, in happiness or heartaches—nobody's children?'
The other wrote, 'A Selfish City Madam! Cares for none, wants none in celebrations or crises!'
Not telling you whose lines were of the bystander man or of the intrusive woman.
Within hours, our lady with the mango soufflé began trending with clickbait hashtags.
Loner, predator, Urban Loneliness, Self-Absorbed-Max, God knows what!
That's the beauty/tragedy of echo chambers of gigantic numbers where prejudice gets amplified instantly because we all get personal with randomness. Perhaps to make peace with our own dour lives.
Scenting blood, Primetime too stepped in. Anchors who were at their loudest even on mute wanted to know the truth. People got divided along the fault lines.
NOW (National Organisation for Women) appointed a committee to uplift the plight of the afflicted (men or women, we don't know).
By the time our lady came back from her brief holiday, where the network was mostly iffy, her phone was jammed with innumerable messages.
As they caught up with the news, the husband went sulking. He was a good man, for God's sake, and now he would be judged. Who knows, his upcoming promotion could be jinxed and nixed.
The teenagers were horrified. How could they face their peers? But it soon dawned on them it could be their flex if used to advantage, to scale the slippery teenage Popularity scales. Their social currency so to speak.
Sadly, no one asked our lady what the issue was.
If they did, she would have told them she was celebrating her small victories. The kind nobody sees, but which keeps one going.
She navigated through a difficult week. She caught up with her monthly walk milestones.
So she just wanted a taste of the king of fruits as a victory remembrance.
Because she was a chronic diabetic, sugar treats were forbidden. The family would have created a racket if they knew she had sweets.
Fortunately, in the larger scheme of things, this hullabaloo, a mere speed bump, would soon be forgotten and junked as yesterday's news.
This beast of consumption needed a new slaughter, a fresh juicy scandal, to stay pacified and satiated!
AJ wants to know when the lady could be back to her mundane existence, doing her own thing?
Could she have her cake and eat it too?
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