Personal Narrative

Let me increase entropy

Shall I give a heads up that I am weird. But then the other person will become more skeptical. Even if I don’t appear or function as a weirdo, I would be drilling in their mind that I am weird. No, I should not say anything at all. Why bring attention to some speculative quality when it might not be noticeable at all. I hope I won’t regret it. 

Hi Divya, are you there? Can you hear me?

Hey! Yeah, I can hear you.

Great. So, how are you?

Brain not functioning. The other person is trying to access a brain area that can’t be accessed without authorisation. 

Segmentation Fault. Core dump not available.

BLANK. 

No neural signals detected in the cerebral area.

System going down. Reboot will start in a while.

Hmm … 

Ain’t that a personal question? Could we not just start with the actual work. I am yet to excel in these short talks. I want to answer but I can’t. Wait, it is the way a conversation unfolds. And you don’t have to tell how exactly you are. Programmed social protocol. You say you are good and ask them if they are okay. And then throw in the actual question that has to be discussed. Okay, on the count of three…

I am good, I have a few queries regarding Treasury Bills. And I also want to discuss a little about OTR and WI.

I know I should have asked them how they are, but I can’t force myself to ask that. No, I can’t. Right now only one thing matters – make the other person hit Ctrl+C, kill this program. My codebase needs an emergency update. And this update might take weeks, months, or years.

Manhandling a camera outputs a weird selfie
Let the whim drive me
What worst could happen?
It will happen and will be a new fashion

I am doing something completely random, trying my best to get out of my comfort zone (or as I have heard other cool people say getting comfortable being uncomfortable) not on one but multiple axes. Instead of planning the content to write while trying to sleep, now I am making efforts to actually write about all my insecurities, flaws, and the little discoveries that I make about myself. And once the diagnosis will be done, I’ll consult Dale Carnegie’s bestseller. Tickets will be raised, I will work on them, and finally I will share my progress here with – ? Now, it is a tricky thing. Who reads my blog? A few people who clicked that Follow button. Here I want to confess one thing – I am was very doubtful about the content that should be published here. Because when you clicked that Follow button, you expected to find here a particular kind of content. Now if I deviate, would it be wrong? Did I trick you to get in? ( I so much want to delete these lines but no, I won’t. ) It is my blog, I will do whatever I want to do with it. You are free to choose your actions. ( I am not being rude, another thing that I need to work on. )

It has been more than a year that I have been at home with my parents. College ended abruptly and the very first job of mine started as Work from Home. All kind of interactions have gone virtual. I have not met a new person in real (not that I want to), all new acquaintances made on WordPress, Messenger, LinkedIn, the point is – it is all virtual. And texting (I would include calls but not all, will elaborate in later posts) is way more different than talking in person. I am very efficient in texting cause it is easy, no facial expressions, no tone, lots of emojis to dilute the intensity. In person, I am terrible. I actually avoid people. We are going out, do you want to join us? My answer is fixed, my machinery has been programmed to say NO. Do I have to change it? I guess no. But then there are certain things like asking the other person about their well being, well that is still easy compared to talking to a friend when they are going through a tough time. No matter how much I want to ask, I can not find words. What do I do? I simply avoid them for a while, and when things are normal, I try my best not to bring up that topic by any chance. Fight or flight? Flight. But my reasoning is that my words won’t do any magic, they might hurt them even more. I can’t be trusted with my words cause they often not match with my intentions. ( Writing is different, you have copious time to think, edit, google the best way to express and then copy paste. ) I have issues, but then we all have issues, mine no important than yours and yours not more important than mine. I wrote this as if making an entry in my journal. But I am certain about one thing, that selfie was not required. LOL.

PS- It has been two months, I have forgotten most of the things. Editor and settings…

Personal Narrative

That’s a wrap, baby

Alright cut, cut. 
Are you kidding me? Are you Kidding me?! 
Are you getting this? Look at this! 
Oh my Gosh!

Last day of 2020! I was wondering all the same on the last day of 2019 as well. And then time flew like an arrow. And here we are – 2020 about to become history. I was very excited about 2020. I have been waiting for this fab sounding year 20-20 for the last 22 years that I have spent on this earth. It was a joke. You are supposed to laugh. (By the way, did you notice how my age and this year are related to each other? 👀)

I vividly remember the way 2019 ended. Don’t give credit to my memory. It is the fact that you happen to remember embarrassing moments.

December 30, 2019

Suitcase ✔️
Laptop ✔️
ID card ✔️ 
Ticket ✔️ 
Mobile ✔️ 
Keys ✔️ 
Perfect. 
Papa, I am ready.

Wait. Wait.

We forgot the selfie.
Cheese.
🙂
Yep, now we can leave.

After 45 minutes, we were at the airport performing our emotional ritual – Goodbyes. It was fun to be in college, and I was only one semester away to get out of the college. But I have always been a homesick child. With every few steps, I turned back to check if my parents left or not. I knew they wouldn’t leave unless I disappeared completely. I got in the queue, patiently waiting for my turn. Meanwhile, I opened the ticket on my mobile. My turn came, and I was asked for it. I expected the same. I always get nervous at this step because I always make a mistake here. I don’t like standing out of the crowd. I prefer to camouflage with them and get away with all this procedure. I showed my ticket and damn! I was again asked to get out of the queue. But this time, it was even worse.

My ears heated up, radiating heat as they turned red. My heart was pounding loud. My hot ears heard its thrums. All the tickles in my stomach made me smile shamelessly.

I stared at my mobile. 
@#$%&* 
The date! 
January 30, 2020!

My neck was paralyzed. I didn’t dare to turn around and look at my father. I started enumerating the ways to get inside the plane. I begged that lady to let me in. However, she was persistent and kept saying that all seats are reserved. But it was not an issue with me. I was ready to travel all the way standing in the aisle. I assured her that it wouldn’t be a problem for any of the passengers. I had lost my sense that I never had with me. She just gave me looks, and I had no choice but to give up.

We drove back home but not in silence. I wanted to disappear. Today I can dare to laugh and shrug it off. But then I was embarrassed. I wanted to be invisible to avoid the occasional gaze of my parents falling on me. At that moment, I felt skipping an entire month of college to stay back at home. My mind wandered to think about the omens described in the novel The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. Why did God allow me to make this mistake? What is the hidden meaning? Was He trying to tell me that I am going to spend the next year at home?

The next day, I was on the train traveling to my college. LOL.

The prologue for my 2020 was quite apt. Don’t you think so?

I came back home in March after my mid-semester break was extended. (Thanks Covid.) I didn’t anticipate that it was indeed the farewell, college is getting over. I had my e-convocation on October 22. (You got it right, that’s called show off! ) It was not at all exciting. It was just another regular day. (Dear virus, thank you.) I got my first job. Yay! Work from home. Lol. Did I say I am homesick? Yes, that’s right. So, I am loving it. I am indeed grateful to this virus that it gave me such a nice chance to go back to those school days when we all stayed together. Family ❤️. Nevertheless, by no means it is an approval for you – Mr. Covid-19 – to stay back. From the bottom of my heart I thank you, and from even a greater depth of my heart I want to ask you – when are you planning to leave?

Honestly, I don’t care if it is 2019 or 2020, or 2021. All these chapters belong to the same book. A new chapter definitely brings freshness. It will take a few days to adapt to writing 1 instead of 0. Anyway, I hope that the epilogue for 2020 would be more pleasant and less chaotic.

Personal Narrative

In my kitchen I cook gibberish

It is strictly advised to take the following words with more than a grain of salt.

My kitchen, my chicken because it is my frrriction. It might sicken you.

Since I do not talk about logic and have a high deficiency of Vitamin Sensibility, proceed ahead at your own risk. The sensory stimulations might cause you to puke. All intelligibility is just a fluke. (These l’s in itneglibilty made my head spin. Tough word.) Before moving ahead, may I ask you to get a bowl of salt? Any salt will work. Once you have it with you, please turn it upside down on your head.

Done? Great. The rest of the journey will be smoother now (for me, of course).

The insides of my head taste colorful. Each neuron has its unique aroma. Some of them are very bitter. I will give you an estimate of their bitterness. Take a bottle with a tight cap and fill it with red wine. Add cocoa and coffee without being stingy. Next, add bitter melon juice and green tea. And if you have time, that you definitely have, grind citrus peel and add to it. Shake it well.

Shake Shake Shake

Now, be brave and take a sip. Let it touch all the inner linings of your mouth. Let its taste penetrate all the taste buds on your tongue. Feel it as it climbs upward towards your nose and head. Don’t open the latch of your mouth. No, don’t let it get out. Swallow it.

Ugh. Yuck. Yuck. 

Some of my neurons are even more bitter than that. With time they turn rustier and B.I.T.T.E.R. You can say that I am cursed with all the bitterness left on the roadsides. However, some of my neurons are so sweet that one lick will cause cavities in all your teeth. And a few might fall as well. I bet you will not try to smell their sweetness. Will you? No worries. I understand. I don’t like their taste either. Why will I? They make my brain foggy and bloated with anxiety. My mind has grown plump, moody, and irritable. My persistent struggle to lose the angry but nervous, outrageous but shy weight is a jagged jaggery fiasco. I don’t want to work out to burn my motivational calories to get a better day. Sweetness is taking its toll on me.

Anyway, I have also got a friendly stock of sour neuronal connections. If you touch them with the tip of your tongue, they will make you squeeze your eyes shut and your mouth wide open. Your teeth will tingle, and all nerves buried beneath them will perform Zumba. Although I didn’t want to flaunt, I have got a perfect set of thirty-two teeth that can taste anything with utmost perfection. My tongue is too lazy to do anything. It occasionally goes for a sprint but doesn’t have enough stamina to finish any race. So, my teeth have to compensate for its silence. They have to smell as well because I can’t ask for any favor from my nose. It is extra sensitive. I have to take special care of it – keeping it dry. The frequent rain and thunder make it marshy. And it is getting worse than Lord Voldemort’s nose. (I know it’s old.) It is becoming No Nose. I have blown it so much that one day it flew away. It is now just two holes and all clogged up. Stuffy nose and a little bit of tissue.

Ahem, don’t make faces.

By now, you must have formed some opinion about my eyes. Due to the stark asymmetry of my head, my left eye is always more sleepy than the right one. No, it has nothing to do with me sleeping with my left eye open. Anyway, my eyes look pretty in their bloodshot gowns. I drink heavily. I prefer to say that I have the luxury to drink extravagantly. No wonder why I always sound so high! My asymmetry is glamorized even more by Strabismus that has caused my eyes to run in opposite directions. One is always looking at the outer world, and the other continuously surveilling dark corners of my mind. A big thanks to the frequent flood sponsored by the tidal waves of the salty ocean. They veil their cross nature.

And my ears, want to make any wild guess? 

Well, they are normal like yours. They love to sing “Happy Together” in a chorus.

Could you please stop staring at my head now? Because my throat is even more fascinating. The inner lump has grown so much that you can almost … 

Nanopoblano 2020 – 8/10

Personal Narrative

Does ‘i’ look like 1

Continuing The Night before the First Job

First Day at First Job

On her bed with closed eyes, Susan changed her side while wondering why has her alarm not screamed yet. She could have got up, but she chose not to deviate from her plan that she carefully designed in her dream. After all, it is a big day. She reminded herself not to let her excitement bite her, although it continued barking inside her head. She was determined to put on her best Corporate Attitude that she ironed the whole night, no matter what.

The alarm rang, barking went on, and nervousness shot. Amidst all this chaos, she managed to get ready by ten. Her muscles beneath her nice shirt snapped her anxiety, and her anxiety jumped in its fancy slippers. She tightened her entangled knot of hairy wisdom behind her brain. But why has she not received any mail or call till now? Dread clouded her as she feared that she is forgotten. Restless and baffled, she reached out for her mobile to call her manager but stopped. She didn’t want to appear as an impatient kid. 

“I will wait for another half an hour, and then without any second thought, I’m going to call him.”

Two more half hours wore on, and she finally gave in. A quick call with her manager made things get started, and by lunchtime, her laptop was buzzing. A little more than 800 emails waved at her. Somewhere in them was buried the set of instructions for the first day.

“Come on, Susan. Sorting out emails is your fiefdom. It won’t take a lot of time.”

With her full focus on subject lines, she was startled by the beep sound that came from an instant messaging app. A message from her manager. It said welcome, but why did it end on a question mark? She read the last line out loud and slowly- “What do you do in your free time?” 

“What kind of question is this? Is he trying to make things less formal? Or maybe things are not exactly as shown in movies. Anyway, it is a normal question. Don’t be nervous, Susan. Think something. What will a sensible, mature, and smart person reply?”

“Free time is free.” Send.

“Wait, why does it not look okay on my screen? It sounded perfect in my head.”

Before Susan could have finished her reasoning, there came another message- “Do you play any games?”

“What shall I reply now? Let alone play, I don’t even know the complete set of rules for any particular game. Does the office organize sports events? Does he need a good player for his team? I can answer anything, and as long as we have work from home (WFH), I don’t need to bother. I have got time, and I will learn it for sure. But what if he is asking about online games like PUBG or Among Us? I should better ask.”

Since he was okay with any game, Susan mentioned both in her semi-authentic message.

“I know a little bit of Volleyball. And I can play Ludo very well.” Send.

Again, it didn’t look that good on her screen as it seemed in her head, especially this Ludo part. The next question that followed proved that Susan had been screwing so far. Her manager was expecting something else. “Let me put it in this way, what is your hobby?”

“I love to write. I mean, I try writing poems and stories.” Send.

Her mind in a tug of war with her fingers finally succumbed to them.

“I have got a blog. Shall I share it?” Send.

Being a gentleman, he didn’t refuse. With few more messages and no more questions, the chat ended. She took a long break, the beauty of WFH. 

Time is a badass player in every game. In the evening, she resumed her sorting task. An email resting in her inbox with her name in the subject smiled at her. With lightning speed, she clicked it open. It was a welcome email. She quickly scanned the email body, there was no mention of Ludo and her blog. There was only one line describing her interest. Sigh.

“Oh, that is why he was asking these questions. Thank God. He is indeed sweet and mature. I am highly grateful to him.”

Then her eyes fell on another welcome email with some other name in the subject. Curious to read, she opened it. Oh my, this new hire said that he enjoys competitive coding. Then things added up.

“What would my manager be thinking? Ludo versus Coding. Don’t say it is okay because it is not. Why on earth did I share my blog? I can’t delete it from his account, but I can change the address. But is it okay to do so?”

Does ‘i’ look like ‘1’? With a smirk on her face, Susan changed the ‘i’ in shooting to ‘1’. Shoot1ng now looks like shooting, a rocket ready to launch. And she can always say that she made a typo error.

Moral of the story- Susan is a complete basket case.

Nanopoblano 2020 – 4/10

Personal Narrative

Blogger Recognition Award

Gratitude

Jealous – you will be jealous of his badass mustache and
Of his kindness, of his love for socks and motorcycle, he is
Jim Carrey singing Bohemian Rhapsody (in the shower), and
Owes a dance to an elderly lady whom I saw in my dream.

☝️ is an approved acrostic.

Once upon a time, a young man on his motorcycle hit me while I was jogging down the blog lane. I faltered, his motorcycle 🏍️… God, it was Bea-u-tiful! I wanted to know more about its model. So, I listened to my ohm and decided to follow him. Riding such a beauty on the blog road, my, oh, my. One night wandering along this lane, he cast a spell on my ride and it went wild! Yes, I am not joking. I have got proof- no effects applied!

My poor mobile! He must have done something. Go and visit, you will yourself know.

Ik ben je een paar sokken schuldig, vriend.

How did my blog start?

First of all, I am not a blogger. I don’t think I can ever be a blogger. But being a blogger indeed sounds very tempting.

So Miss, what are you doing on WordPress?

I don’t know. Maybe I am praying that someday I might learn to write a perfect letter, especially a love letter. Just kidding! But love letter is the very reason that I signed up on WordPress. I had a crush on someone and was desperate to confess. First I thought I’ll drop an email.

Hold on. Are you kidding me? You are going to tell someone that you like him in an email! Really? Oh, gross!

Exactly. So, I started scribbling a letter. Then instead of posting it, I published it hoping that someday some Magic might happen, and he would come across it. 

And then?

Then nothing. I was a kid. (And still didn’t grow up.) With that letter finished and published, all my emotions flushed away, and I forgot him as well as WordPress. I know it’s not at all a very inspiring story. God! But I have got only weird truths to share. Lol, I just let this secret slip out.

Like many others, I started exploring WordPress and reading blogs only during the lockdown. Before that, I had no idea about WordPress and its community. I was wondering whether to keep this account or delete it. I have an obsession with deleting things! Whenever I have a bad day, I look for things to delete. Clicking ‘Delete’ does some magic to me and lightens my mood. When I tested positive in September, I felt the virus tinkering my brain and asking to write one love letter for it as well. So, it was during my bittersweet honeymoon with Covid-19 that I got the hang of it. By the way, with mutual consent, Mr. Covid and I finalised our divorce a month ago.

Advice for new bloggers:

I am also new! So, I am not an appropriate person to advise. I don’t have much expertise in this field. Feel free to Google it. There are many helpful tips available. Trust me. I just checked, and I couldn’t select two to copy and paste.

My Nominees

It was the scariest part that forced me to put off this post for such a long time. I was nervous because of the word “Recognition”. What if I nominate someone and they are already recognised. Would I end up offending them? ( I was not sure if I should have shared it or not, but I am the kind of person who first says and later wonders if it was supposed to be shared or not. ) Furthermore, who am I to nominate anyone?

So, my dear friend, if you have made so far, may I ask for another little favour? Would you please accept my nomination? ( I am on my knees with my right hand stretched. Although my knee is hurting a little, I can wait for you to make up your mind. I hope you will say ‘Yes’ 🙂 )

The Rules
1. Thank the blogger that nominated you and give a link to their site
2. Do a post to show your award
3. Give a summary of how your blog started
4. Give two pieces of advice for any new bloggers
5. Select at least 15 other bloggers for this award
6. Let each nominee know you’ve nominated them and give a link to your post.

Personal Narrative

The Night before the First Job

Oh God! Oh-no oh-no oh-no

What will happen tomorrow?”

I can’t sleep. I don’t even have sleeping pills.

Okay, listen Susan – calm down, relax.

Breathe in. Breathe out.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.”

Breathe in…”

.

.

.

Oh-no oh-no oh-no

Susan is freaking out. Tomorrow is her first day at her very first job. Unable to sleep, she is continuously rolling on her bed as if she is a pendulum. Left-to-right and then right-to-left. She tries a new orientation and once again starts her rolling motion. Left-to-right and then right-to-left. Tonight she is going to set a new world record in bed rolling.

It has been four hours since she decided to get some sleep. In these four hours, she has managed to get only more exhausted. Her head is now spinning and so is the world. She has failed terribly to pin down the Routine Night Sleep wrestler. Upset. Disappointed. She is not at all ready for tomorrow’s Wrestlemania. And her tomorrow’s opponent First Day at Job is the Heavyweight Champion weighing all the nervousness in this world. Sitting upright on her bed, she is now nodding vigorously.

No, I can’t do it.
God help me. Please help me.
Take me to Saturn. Or make me a Satan.

Susan was delighted when she received the offer. Bouncing and Dancing. Smiling and Blushing. However, emotions have changed. Confused and Nervous. Panicky and Shaky. She doesn’t understand why she got hired. How she made it through all the rounds? Why did the recruiters contact her in the first place? After all, she screwed up every round of interviews a little bit. Furthermore, she doesn’t even have a good academic record. It is decent enough but not good enough to attract the eyes of any company. She credited her Luck for making through the selection process, and she knows that Luck doesn’t stay on the same side. Sitting in the darkness she is berating her Luck. She is muttering a line over and over.

You should not get what you don’t deserve.

It is a line that she hasn’t read anywhere but framed after getting inspired by her experiences. She is very proud of her for thinking such an intelligible line. There was also a pinch of sadness but more than that a feeling that she is becoming a philosopher. And repeating this line is giving her a relief – a relief that she knows one hidden mystery of Life.

Although she thinks of it very often, Retreating is not an option. She will never walk on this path. She can think of only one way to justify her selection, to justify that she indeed deserves the Monetary Award in return.

Work hard and get the job done.”

Susan never believed that she was smart enough. So, she still clings to the classic Hard Work approach while the world has migrated to the Smart Work platform.

Come on Susan, you are now overthinking. Crush your nervousness with your excitement.

Her sane side is suggesting to celebrate the night because she will be counted as an employed girl from tomorrow onwards. Her parents will be proud of her. She will have a source of income. A new sense of accomplishment. But Imposter Syndrome is a real thing.

What if I didn’t understand a single thing my colleagues do?

What if I ended up being a source of irritation?

What if I missed the deadlines?

What if I failed my first task?

What if I had a lot of doubts?”

What if I didn’t understand even after being explained a hundred times?”

What if my manager knew that I am a Stupid disguised as a smart girl?

What if this luck that sailed me so far suddenly disappeared?”

What if I got Fired?

What if …”

And as Susan was enumerating all these “what ifs” she fell asleep. She is dreaming of her first day. She is giving her best. Her discomfort is evident to people around her but she goes on. She is not struggling, she is Fighting. Time for Counter-Strike.

Three more hours. Then the alarm will ring and she’ll be brought back to the real world. And one morning she will wake up and smile at this night!

Personal Narrative

Bittersweet Honeymoon

Pro Tip: It’s about my marriage with Covid-19.

I found this image somewhere on Google

I look and stare so deep in your eyes
I touch on you more and more every time

That’s Sofia Karlberg singing in the background as I am going insane after being quarantined with my husband on our first honeymoon. This month was a roller-coaster with many lows and fewer ups. I had my birthday, got a job, met my love, received a marriage proposal, accepted it, got married, and now this honeymoon. But these all are ups? No, they are not. The next nearest low is my divorce getting finalised in a week. I am done with him. This marriage was an absolute disaster. If you want to know more, hang on.

When you leave I’m beggin’ you not to go
Call your name two, three times in a row

I finished my college in March, and around that same time I noticed him for the first time. My heart did tic-tic when it should have been just tic, and then it missed the next tic. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My mouth was wide open. I swallowed really hard and disappeared before he could have even noticed me. I started observing him discreetly. Completely undercovered, no chance that he could have even noticed me. I observed that he is the life and soul of the party. Flirtatious crocodile. He asks everyone for coffee, for lunch, for dinner, even for a date so casually as if he’s bisexual. I was flummoxed. But then he is very sincere, warm, and a good egg. You just say hello or look him in his eyes and he’ll be on his knees asking you what he can do? Aww!

Yeah, cause I know I don’t understand
Just how your love can do what no on else can

While I was searching for every single piece of information about him, he had no idea about my existence. I also never went to say hello to him. I was scared and obviously I was wearing a mask while following him. One night when I was following him back home, I got the feeling that he saw me. I thought he was going to turn around and punch me in my face. Or one of his security guards is going to lock me up in some prison in some other country. He is a multimillionaire, travels world wide, has his own personal aircraft. And I was pretty sure he would have some confidential and very powerful visa that allows him to travel anywhere in the world on a second’s notice. He could have easily killed me in the night. It won’t be a big deal. Fortunately nothing happened to me and I was back home sound and safe without getting noticed. Afterwards, I never followed him again on the road. But I continued visiting every possible website with his name on it. However, with him out of sight I was not enjoying it any longer. I was getting bored by this research. He started looking like a normal virus. I was giving up on him. Nothing could have started between us.

I started afresh. I stopped the venture to know more about him. I stopped thinking about him. My new job was on my mind. I was determined that he will never know me. Then came my birthday. I had long conversations with my friends and relatives. And yet I was a little restless. I was not sure what to do about the letter – the handwritten letter – that I received from him. He wished me on my birthday. What the heck! How he knew my address, my name, my birthday? Was he also following me? That could not be true. But the other important issue was the gift. The letter said that my gift will arrive tomorrow.

Got me hoping you page me right now your kiss’s
Got me hoping you save me right now

What could be my gift? Oh God! Is he going to ask me to marry him? Because if he did, I won’t be able to decline his offer. It’s very romantic, but it should not happen in reality. It’s just a perfect dream. Trying to turn it into reality is going to mess it. I had a sleepless night. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep in the morning. I got up in shock. It was his voice. He was talking with my father. He must have befriended him. That’s his thing. If you go close to him, you are trapped. You can’t help but get infected by his deadly charm.

I asked Mom who has come. I actually wanted to know her opinion about him. And she was quite neutral. She must have stayed at a distance. My brother didn’t like him a bit. He checked him out and had a conversation and didn’t like him. So, there are people who find him creepy. But what the hell? What is he doing here? Is he my birthday gift? Well, I can’t decipher if he has come for me or for my father? It doesn’t seem they are meeting for the first time. I am standing at the door seeing Papa and him having a drink and bursting into laughter now and then. Are they school friends? I am into oldies but he couldn’t be 40+. No way! He looks as if … as if he is still a child! Okay, as if he is a fresh college graduate! Has he told Papa that I was stalking him? I wish not.

He called my name. My head jerked up. I managed to force a smile. I said hi and he wished me a happy birthday. We shook hands and there – he did his magic. I lost all control. It was the first time that I saw him so closely. He felt fresh and not a pinch of guilt to flirt with everyone – and I mean everyone. My hand was in his hand. I surrendered. Was it really a trap or he really appreciated me? Suddenly Dad called my name. I was forced to move out of my thoughts. He let go off my hand but I could feel his scent on it. To take it more deeply I rubbed my nose as if it’s itching a lot. Dad called me again and said, “he is going to stay here for the rest of the month”. Really? Was he not supposed to leave after lunch? He whom I stalked for months, read every single article about him, is now going to break all the walls of immunity that I constructed for him in the last few weeks.

But I still don’t understand
Just how your love can do what no one else can

I only know that he gripped me. He casted his spell very neatly. And on the fifth day he proposed to me. I had anticipated it, but now when it happened I was shocked. There was a lump in my throat. I didn’t want to swallow anything. I wanted a continuous warm liquid to run down my throat. The dream was on the border of reality. And the coming night was going to erase that border. I was in his embrace, he was warming me more and more. We slept together that night, and the following nights.

I asked him how he knew about me? He replied that his eyes are on all those eyes that are on him. Why didn’t I understand that he was saying that he couldn’t be monogamous even after our marriage? I was so blinded with excitement that I said Yes to him. After five days, I was holding our wedding certificate and he was flirting again with everyone. I was furious at his behaviour, I was burning. But he is magical. His one touch and I cooled down. And now my nose was running. I wanted to get involve in an argument with him but got distracted because my phone was ringing. It was a call from the firm suggesting to postpone my joining for another week. That’s fantastic, I wanted that. My husband winked at me and said Happy Honeymoon. It was my wedding gift. He is something, isn’t he? And now that I am his wife, I am no longer an ordinary girl. What I didn’t know was that the world is going to be scared of me.

Marriage is not an easy task, your heart makes a lot of flips. I don’t understand the need for a wedding ceremony. We can have that certificate and no celebration. To be honest, I didn’t want any guests. Many people called to congratulate us and then gave a very obvious excuse for their inability to attend the reception. The more I wanted the things to be normal the more these calls made them dramatic. A new bride can never be left alone in the corner. I was completely worn out. Actually it was not these calls or the attention, it was him who was pulling something out of me. He had full control of my parents. He was dominating our relationship, and I let that happen. His spell was difficult to break. He didn’t want me to drink tea. He didn’t allow me to do exercise. There is a limit, he should have understood that. I broke all the shackles and drank a lot of tea, coconut water, and hot water. I exercised, took protein, multi-vitamins, and checked my oxygen level every morning. I even started taking paracetamol. I don’t care if he is a multimillionaire! I can’t compromise with my freedom.

I am a newly wed girl, on her first honeymoon. And I am looking forward to get done with all the formalities of divorce asap. And just like that my one month relationship is getting over. I know it’s not going to affect him much, he will be snogging someone else. That’s what he does. A bad egg. After all he is the novel coronavirus!

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh no no…