Her haircut was like mine but slicker. She looked at me with her bright blue eyes as she groped my breasts for bombs and asked ‘’How old are you?’’ 21, I answered with my small honest voice.
Aunties in silk saris passed by alongside husbands who moved the trolley for them. But I waited there and she made me take off my belt. My button was broken so when my belt was removed,my jeans popped open. She untucked my shirt, she made me take off my boots touched my feet, my ankles and then asked ‘’Are you alone?’’ I said ‘’Yes’’
She did the round again, the feeling up and found no bombs and said I could go. She didn’t button me up. I did it clumsily in a corner.
The others who also logically deserved this treatment were software engineers in suits with rich wives and knew the techniques of international travel.
I was used to feeling sexy in Indian airports.