Parar je goli tay aalo taman teebro noy, du-ekta cycle chhara gaari-taari-o beshi jay na, badminton er net tangiye khelar prostuti cholchhilo dekhlam; full shirt er haata khanik gotano dekhe mone holo eder keu keu office ferta pothe CCD te girlfriend er sathe 'appo' korar cheye akhana khelte beshi bhalobashe. Sheeter Kolkata. Bhaggyish kichhu janish paltay na

"Na dada, I don't want this pair, I can't wear heels, I'll fall if I wear them", I tried to reason, somewhat sheepishly with the shoe guy at Gariahat. 
"Nonsense! You HAVE to start wearing them. You *cant'* be this "unsmart" all your life now, can you?" came the instant admonition in FULL public view. 

I came back with the shoes. 
Seated at a revered distance from me, I swear I could hear them sniggering away, even as I sulked and sulked and sulked some more.

Marketing honchos, take a cue. 
Take a bow.

Its unwise to remove that rather crucial space between boy and friend. Its there for a reason, I realise.
Remove it, and the latter begins to get squished under the weight of the former. IMHO.