Will Write For Coffee

and food and vacations, too.

Month: December 2015 (page 1 of 2)

#UmmeedSeDugna

Hope is a wonderful and terrible thing at the same time.

It keeps you from moving on. It also helps you to move on.

While it is so easy to say that we must choose to look at positive side, in reality it is difficult to do so.

2015 has been an amazing year. I learnt so much about myself, about others. Without getting into too much details, let’s say I am ending the year on a high note.

I am hopeful 2016 will be better. That the universe would be kind to me. That I will get the happiness I deserve (also because totally buying the iPhone for my birthday, and if that is not happiness, then what is?). And that I will try and not lose hope. That there is something amazing stored in for me.

As Amitabh Bachchan in the following video says,

आज भी है यह पकडे उम्मीद की डोरी
डॉन्ट लूज़ होप इस ध मॉरल ऑफ़ ध स्टोरी
जिसने सीखा इनसे, लाइफ में कभी न झुकना
हॉटसीट पे मिलेगा, भैया उम्मीद से दुगना

How To Identify A Psycho On Twitter

Jab se hosh sambhala hai, Internet hi mera sahara raha hai.

I have come across many sort of crazies. Over time I have learnt to identify some of them.

A lot of them have sure shot signs that there’s a psychotic crazy underneath that calm and composed demeanour.

You could see them get rattled at slightest provocation and they go full abusive while inventing newer spellings putting Shakespeare to shame. Sometimes they hide behind the veil of a politician who claims to be an aam aadmi but is actually crazier than all the crazies combined in the national capital. Having them around makes you feel how normal you actually are.

Then there are the arguments enthusiasts. While it is basic human nature to argue because we love to, some take them to a completely new level. They don’t argue because they believe in a particular theory or concept. They are arguing with you only because they want to disagree with you while they might actually be agreeing with you, but then arguing is more fun. The sadistic pleasure one derives on seeing helplessness of a rational human being trying to reason with a completely insane person is unparalleled. They like to question things not because they want to question, but just because they have an internet connection and Twitter account. Democracy and free speech – boon or bane?

The serial likers. There is something exceedingly creepy about those who go about liking Tweets. So much that the tweets they have ‘liked’ are more than the tweets they have tweeted. I have severe aversion to these kinds. They may be harmless, but you never know.

And then the crazies who go write mean stuff anonymously on your blogs while being extremely kind while talking to you.  Just because they could. And don’t think it comes from severely jobless people. Sometimes, this kind of behaviour is shown by well qualified doctors, practicing in the US. This is how they show their psychopathic behaviour. These are the times you also thank your stars for giving you the strength not to get affected by vile words.

Vile words se yaad aaya, the loonies who spew venom through subtweets. Some times I read some stuff and wonder how much of a bitter person one has to be to stoop down to this level? I’d have loved to play guessing game on who those things are written about, but then I have better things to do. Like write blogs on the psychotic behavioural patterns of the crazies of Twitter.

Secret Admirer

bleeding heart

The strange feeling that you are being watched. Always.

As a reporter, who was always on the move, Natasha started her day at 6 with a quick run at the Lodhi Gardens. The endorphins helped her clear her head and the solitary run helped her plan the rest of her day, which usually centred around the Central Secretariat.

She would return home by 7, read up the papers, because you have to know what competition is up to, and leave for office by 9.

Last few months, however, things have been little uneasy for her. She felt like she was being watched. She confided her fear to her childhood friend, Nupur, who dismissed it as Natasha’s overactive imagination. She also suggested her work related stress may be taking a toll on her.

Which could be true. Last few months have been very hectic, especially with political mayhem that has gripped the country.

Except, strange occurrences had started taking place. She received a bunch of flowers, pink and white carnations, at her office, with no name. There was no note attached to it either. The flowers were on her desk by the time she reached office, and were received by the old man on the reception desk who didn’t bother asking any details.

“Oh, you have a secret admirer,” Nupur teased when Natasha told her about the flowers. “Send me a picture. Did you like them? ;-)” she asked. “No, I am throwing them in the dustbin. Hope this stupidity stops,” Natasha replied.

Two days later, when she came back from her run mercilessly chopped pink and white carnations were left outside her house.

“Who could it be?” Nupur asked. They were window shopping at Khan Market while taking an extended lunch break.

“It could be Aditya. Since I have blocked him everywhere, he may be trying to get back to me this way,” Natasha said. Aditya was her ex-boyfriend. She broke up with him six months back. Nupur and Aditya could not stand each other and hated each other to the core. Nupur was elated at the breakup. “He is not the right person for you,” she would always say. Aditya, on the other hand, would always tell Natasha that Nupur is the crazy one.  “There is something very off about her. I could not place my finger,” he would say.

But Aditya would not stoop down to the level of stalking, Natasha thought.

“If only there was a way to know who this person is,” Natasha said as she walked towards the metro. “I’m going to take the rest of the day off,” she said.

Over next few weeks, things got worse. Things she had casually mentioned at work place, among acquaintances, friends, started happening. Like, she had tweeted a picture of a beautiful stole she saw at the Dilli Haat, and a week later, it was delivered to her place. Anonymously.

“It is not me,” said Aditya, after Natasha confronted him at last. “I swear it is not me.”

“Natasha, be careful, though. This person sounds dangerous. Talk to the cops, maybe,” he said.

“It is not Aditya. He is suggesting I go to the cops,” Natasha told Nupur.

“As if cops would do anything,” Nupur said furiously. “Did you meet him again?” she asked.

“Yes, but don’t worry, I am over him. We did not rekindle our relationship. I left before he could bring it up,”

“He still has a thing for you, no?”

“I don’t know. He is a great guy. I don’t know,” Natasha said, her voice trailing off.

Except, things were about to turn dangerous. Two days after her meeting with Aditya, he was found dead. As per preliminary reports, he slipped on wet floor and fell and broke his head. Natasha could not believe what she heard. She has seen the spark between them return and it seemed both may be ready to move past their differences to restart the relationship. A part of her died that day. Aditya is never coming back.

Even as she was mourning Aditya’s death, she got a package. “Hauz Khas Metro station. 8:00 pm. December 22. Come alone. Do not call on the cops. I’ll be there near the last compartment on the line towards HUDA City Centre.” It had Aditya’s watch in it.

She panicked. This is a threat. But she also saw that the metro station at 8 pm is a crowded place. There is no way anyone could harm her.

On Tuesday, Natasha reached the metro station by 7:30. She was afraid, but a sudden wave of strength had taken over. She was carrying a pepper spray and taser gun to tackle the stalker, just in case the need arises.

At 8:15, the second metro had come and left the station. At the same moment, she saw someone walking towards her. She froze in her tracks. It was Nupur.

“Nupur?” said a shocked Natasha. “What is going on?”

“Natasha, I hated the fact that I had to share you with Aditya. I hated him from the core. Have you not seen how much I love you? I could not bear to be away from you,” Nupur said.

Natasha could not believe what she heard.

“I killed him,” Nupur said. “He would not back off. I told him to stay away. He threatened me he would tell you about me and put me in an asylum. I killed him,”

This is a nightmare. This could not be happening, Natasha thought. The fourth metro was about to pull in to the station. Natasha decided she will leave. She could not take this any longer. She started to get up and walk towards platform.

“I am sorry, Natasha,” she heard Nupur say.

Nupur was standing right behind her.

Natasha tried to back off a little just as the metro was approaching the platform. Natasha has never been this terrified all her life. Nupur was her childhood friend. They had grown up together. Had their first crush on the same hot senior from 9th standard and had a silly pact that both of them would forget him and move past. They discovered smoking weed together and Nupur was there by her side when she got crazy drunk and threw up after her 21st birthday party.

And the Nupur in front of her is a completely different person. Nupur felt like a threat to her life today. Natasha was about to raise an alarm.

Just then the metro pulled in an within fraction of second it was over.

Nupur had decided to jump on the tracks of incoming metro and end her life.

Sunday Night Musings

*heart*

Last week I took an evening flight from Delhi to Ahmedabad. It was very introspective and contemplative. There were few things which were very clear, but few things which remained as abstract as ever.

I tried reading a book for sometime, but it is little over 90 minutes flight. So you barely get around to do much, especially when you are not sure of anything and are constantly distracted.

Before I knew it the captain announced descent. I glanced out of the window (I was in the aisle seat) and the Sun was about to set. It looked glorious. It was the most beautiful shade of crimson I had ever seen. The Sun, a giant ball of fire, looking calm, was hiding behind linear shaped clouds.

The Sun was setting. A day, a chapter was about to end.

Yesterday I was in Daman. While the place has nothing much to offer unless you are in a group, I insisted we visit the beach during the sunset. You see, it is on the western coast. The sun will set in the Arabian Sea. It is bound to look beautiful.

We walked towards the beach. The sand was black (as against brown sand we saw earlier in the day at another beach) and really fine. I wanted to dip my feet a little in the sea. Oceans terrify me. The infinity of oceans make you feel so insignificant. Also the fact that oceans are so huge, and water so powerful, you are practically helpless when nature decides to reclaim the planet.

So I walk towards the water, carefully. I dip my feet as the Sun is about to set. The colour of Sun has gone from bright yellow to bright orange to deep orange to beautiful hibiscus red. The sun reflected in the sea. It looked lovely as the waves made the reflection of Sun look like a flame of a candle.

It took me back a week earlier when extreme form of uncertainty had taken over.

By that I don’t mean there isn’t any right now. I still as uncertain and unsure of everything. I am currently so clueless about everything life has to offer that I just want to crawl under my blanket and come out only when things have sorted themselves out. But, in the contemplative mood yesterday (fuelled by a bit of alcohol in my bloodstream – whaaa? If you go to temple, you bow down to the idol. Similarly, when you visit a non-dry state, you must consume a little alcohol, otherwise alcohol would feel bad) and I made a wonderful observation.

I realised how I am seeing the Sun set, but somewhere someone is watching the same Sun rise. While for me, it was end of a day, for someone else it was beginning of a bright, new cheery day.

Maybe that’s where the nature teaches us life hacks. Perhaps an end of something is beginning of something wonderful. Perhaps something had to end for other, better things to happen.

A lot like a book. End of a chapter is beginning of another. Unless you decide not to turn the page.

Here’s to us. The dreamers, the believers, the crazies. The world would be a dull place without us.

To new beginnings.

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