Boob talk | Feature | wavemag.com.np

Dolkar walked into the class after the ten minute recess like any other day and sat on her bench in the first row, middle column. Dickhead followed right behind her with his two hands holding imaginary breasts as if they were so heavy they needed support and as he sat on the bench, he gesticulated resting his breasts of air on the table in front and said "dhoom". The class burst out in laughter and Dolkar just sat there crying throughout the rest of the lessons. High school, ugh! And that is how girls blessed with sizeable breasts have always been a subject of ridicule and shame. For these girls, pulling away at the shirt from their bodies has become as natural a habit as walking with shoulders hunched.

Our proprietor, P's obsession with us began even before we had started to sprout. It was a huge family gathering and by huge, we mean 5 Uncles, 3 aunts, 3 cousins, mother, father, 2 brothers and a sister. P was 12 and had donned a denim dungaree with a colorful sweater on top. As the family got ready to leave from the gathering, one of the aunts pointed at P's practically-flat-chest and cried out "katro thulo bhayecha ahile dekhi nai". Another aunt readily joined in and shared a good laugh, as the rest of the family stood there in shock not knowing how to react. God bless aunties!

And so began the journey to flatten and hide us as best as she could. From wearing the thickest vests underneath her white school shirt to covering with heavy winter jackets even in spring! It was only after P changed schools and found outgoing friends that she let us breathe. However, our lot's stories don't end there. Like us, they keep growing. Recently, a pair of our sisters was at the Indira Jatra festival. Although walking with the husband, a hand came from behind and pulled at her SO hard, she literally choked and was left gasping for air. Another pair of friends was at the doctors to get her tummy checked. The Doctor with his pathetic excuse that the condition could be related to menstrual cycles made the clothes come off and got a confused patient's permission to examine them, kneading and pressing and squeezing. Who could they turn to for help? Aren't you supposed to be able to trust the professionals! Don't even get us started on how the taxi drivers have a gala time fixing their rearview and watching us bounce helplessly, thanks to the perfect streets of Kathmandu. A visit to the tailor could turn very interesting when the time comes to measure us and he deliberately places his finger on the inside of the measurement tape to get the slightest pleasure from touching us. A walk into the brassiere shop gets us openly appraising and measuring looks from all the salesgirls and salesmen only to say "tapai ko lagi ta size paunu garoh huncha". Forget all this!

The most annoying moments come when men you respect start making a conversation with us! WHY? Why this obsession when biologically, we are just pouches of fat and muscles. And everyone has touched, sucked and bitten at us as toddlers. Every other person on earth owns a pair of us. Then why does the rest of the population still drool at just a hint of cleavage! Well, we will admit that it is a part that is hard to miss, especially when we stick out before any other parts of the body. So maybe, it is ok to catch a glance. Even women can't resist checking out others' bosoms some times. But please, just do not leer or talk to us. We are mute! We do not even have opinions! The part that does all the talking is a few inches above us.

*According to a study carried out at the New Zealand-based University of Wellington in 2009.