My cap is pulled down low and I am wearing my shades on this cool yet surprisingly sunny evening. With my iPod filling my head with music, I walk down a once familiar street, past the shops with brightly patterned saris and exquisite sherwanis. The shopkeepers all beckon me inside to take a look at their wares, but I move quickly on, should anyone recognize me. At a corner I stop to cross the road and I catch the eye of the man standing on the opposite side of the road. His gaze is fixed on me, and a gentle shiver creeps over my body. But he senses my disinterest, and crosses the street in search of more willing subjects. I am still standing stupidly at the corner, looking around at the shops, the groups of men talking to each other on the street, the families walking by with shopping bags. This was once a street I knew well, but I dare not walk that path again. For in the back room of a shop somewhere, naked mannequins stand as mute witnesses to the two men getting undressed in the dark.
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