The Incredible Bulk

Today I, Priyanka Joshi, will be reveling my one and only true identity. Yes, at home or at college you might call me “The girl with the short hair” or “The girl with the average height” or “The girl with the chipped tooth” but that all changes when it comes to me on the road.The moment I’m stuck in traffic or am being pushed around by discount craving, mall hopping, Sunday shopping women, who just can’t apologize, my true identity is reveled, “The Incredible Bulk”.The fury starts from my toes and in a flash reaches my cranium and the blood bath begins and the arena is in my head.A choke slam to the auto wala who just overtook my ride.A kick to the mid section to the man who is crossing the road in a blur, though any minute now a vehicle will kill him in a second, and yet gloat while going to the other side (I have seen more intelligent chicken).A punch in the jaw to the sorry excuse of a woman who just can’t stop screaming out to her kids to grab the last bag of discount rajma so that she can fart on their faces the next time they cause trouble.A knife through the intestine of the auto walas who communicate in 3 ways when you tell them your destination:1. If the answer is yes then they just stare at you expecting you to understand that the stare means a yes.2. If the answer is no then nod their head and go away.3. And the worst of them all, the ones whose answer is no and don't even bother to tell you if they will go. The simply dash away without saying anything, like they are the reincarnation of speed racer himself.However, since these things can send me to court, leading to imprisonment, 70 years in jail through trial and finally a death sentence I perform these acts in my head. It is a sorry excuse of a life I know. Yet, if you ever find me glaring at you, flaring my nostrils, shaking my head and clenching my jaw you know that you are currently being mutilated.