Please correct

It took place when I used to stay in the city at a rented place close to work. I shared the apartment with a guy.

It happened that an ex-girlfriend of this guy was to catch a flight from the city airport.She was from a different state and needed a place to stop by in the city before getting to the airport. My roommate was her only acquaintance there so she decided to stop by at our place.

She was to get there on a Saturday. Usually I left for home on weekends but this time I had to stay back to shun a Birthday party our next door neighbour was having. I had started feeling uncomfortable in social gatherings.

My roommate was visibly disappointed at hearing that his ex-girlfriend would not have the appropriate privacy because of my staying back. So I offered to take leave during her stay. The offer was readily accepted. I was anyway happy to help since the guy had always been so nice to me.

In the Saturday morning I woke up early to answer my roommate’s phone call informing me that he had picked up the girl from the railway station and they would arrive in half an hour. I quickly did the toilet stuff and left. It was raining lightly outside. Having taken breakfast at a roadside stand I took shelter at office.

After boring myself with an hour of surfing the internet I received my roommate’s call. They were going out shopping so I could get back, but they had put her luggage on my bed and I was kindly not to remove them and use my roommate’s bed instead and kindly manage until they came back later to collect the stuff. It was fine by me though. Until I got back.

I saw those luggage bags. They were branded alright. But they had been dragged on their wheels over a dirty platform of The Indian Railways and before that carried in some dirty rack of a dirty train compartment, and now they were on my bed, and I was not to remove them!

I felt angered. Why on earth they could not put those things on the floor? How about common sense? My eyes fell on the curtain across the window. Curtains must have been invented to give women their precious privacy, I thought. Why did women need so much privacy? Their very existence seemed a set of delicate businesses needing privacy from rest of the perverted world.

Having iterated these thoughts for a while it occurred to me that my bitterness was really uncalled-for. Was I simply jealous because I never had a girlfriend? I should feel lucky then that a girl had put on my bed at least her belongings if not herself, I amused myself.

I even felt bad for the boy .He had made so much preparation for an ex. He had overnight turned a men’s apartment tidy and hygienic looking, bought a new towel, a toilet paper roll and a soap she might or might not use during her hour long stay. I should not have been jealous.

But jealousy was not it, I realized eventually. I was feeling all these because I had not felt anything personal for long. For long I had cared only for matters not personal: politics, economic oppression, moral and cultural decline, threats by religious fundamentalist, and so on. I needed to feel something for my very own self and so I did that day.