“What is the meaning of this?” Mansi said clenching her fists. Her curly hair were unkempt and her eyes had fire and wilderness in them.
“What?” Jirah looked at her bemused. He had become used to her antics and half the time, he didn’t hear half of her rants. This time, he was only listening because there were people around and she was on the verge of shouting. Typical of Mansi – create a scene.
“You think it’s okay to say that I’m looking like a prostitute.”
“A high-class prostitute,” said Jirah and winked.
“How dare you?”
“I am saying what I think,” said Jirah.
“I was just saying it as a joke.”
“Would you say something like this to your mother as a joke?”
“How dare you say something like this about my mother? Learn to talk about elders.”
“You learn to talk about women,” said Mansi.