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The Push

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It was a strange feeling, not being able to recall anything a few seconds later… or maybe it had been a few minutes or hours. I set my phone aside, knowing I had to do something but what? Look up a recipe in my saved folder? Message an old friend? Was there an event I was missing? I could feel the cogs of my mind turn slowly, almost arriving at a definitive conclusion. Then, the dopamine rush-inducing ‘ting’ sound buzzed again and all was lost. *** I’ve always found Instagram to be a window into the world of others. A glimpse of their lives shines through and then it’s gone as you scroll away. But there is a morbidity that comes as you lie on your back and flip from one reel to the next till your hand aches. It’s almost as if we are trying to find the end or go back to the beginning so that all that doom scrolling would mean something. I think I found it one night when I scrolled myself into oblivion.  It was 3 am when I found myself in a lucid dream. My phone buzzed and I awoke, r...
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Reflections unseen

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  “I don’t like looking in the mirror… because that’s when she looks back…”  When my four-year-old nephew said these words to me I replied with the standard: “Eric, there’s no such thing as ghosts.” Though the thought was eerie, never did I imagine there was any truth to it. As psychiatrists, we are trained to understand the logic behind every fear but something about my nephew's phobia wasn't irrational. Over the next few days, I went about my business, trying to put this egregious thought to rest. What I noticed was that I grew fearful of my own reflection. For some unexplained reason, I was hesitant to look at car windows, shopping displays or even the notice board outside my office. I couldn't escape the foretelling of something demonic when approaching a looking glass. The hairs on the back of my neck would stand and I’d get a bone-chilling feeling like something was watching me. I was completely powerless against the fear that a four-year-old had planted in me. So, th...
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Enid

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As I sip yet another hot brew of lemongrass tea with honey, I sit contemplating my next move. My trembling, sweaty hands, which even the tea doesn’t seem to steady, make it difficult for me to type. For being a storyteller comes with its own boundaries of wariness — especially, a story like this one that leaves you shaking to your very core, as I am right now. I still remember that cold, crisp December morning when mom and I were looking for a new apartment to rent. Tired of our leaky roof, damp walls and noisy neighbours, we craved a wholesome change. That morning, I was the happiest I had ever been after an aleatory phone call from our hardworking broker left me beaming. Our house had been on the market for six months before we closed on a decent offer that left us with some savings, despite the damage the roof repairs had done to our pockets.  “The house sold!” — her voice had the same excitement, I imagine, of someone who had just won the lottery. I remember thinking, ‘This ol...
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Short poems

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Ode to my anxiety There’s something small that lives inside a hollow tree. It might be small but I’m not sure it’d be friends with me. So I soldier on in hopes that the creature might one day be... A tiny voice, not frightening or menacing, that's just a little less scary. Left on read I find myself waiting by the phone Every minute of every day I feel alone. The loneliness it grips me like the cold, raspy hands of death. So many times I've tried to be; something other than me Just to please you so you wouldn't leave. Now every time I wait by the phone... I glance into the mirror so I won't feel alone.  But what I see is not me. The me that I see is begging to break free. First published on @Bombay_Bards on Instagram. Almost Alice The world's unrelenting words have hardened the soft palate. Inured to violations, the eyes have lost their sparkle. The blood running through the coarse hands has thickened. Suddenly, life feels different. They say she is more powerful, ...
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The proposal - A short story

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As the music grew to a dull roar I could see that he had changed his mind. Our family and friends had gathered round and were excited to witness a climactic moment, but I knew their wait would be in vain. My eyes searched on for a growing sense of recognition in his, but found none. He was far gone. His one knee proposal felt like he was imploring me to read his mind, and so I did. Finally, standing up, he hugged me. The crowd cheered on as I put my arms around his neck and kissed him gently on his cheek. He wrapped his arms around my waist, nestled his head in my shoulders' nook and whispered softly in my ear, "I can't do this." To everyone else we were heading toward a new chapter in our lives but it was actually the end of an unexpected and beautiful journey. It wouldn't end in 'Till death do us part', it ended right there on the dance floor, where the music died.
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The corporate — a short horror story

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...Ever so often you come across a Voldemort in your career, One Who Must Not Be Named . Staring at the computer, suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to leave. Give up the 'career path' that I thought I was destined for. His hand was raised and his eyes had nothing but contempt for my work. His lips dripping with disdain. Anger filled his very being. But why? All for a frivolous mistake on an Excel sheet? That couldn't be it. His actions on that last day left me befuddled and anxious. I wondered — Would he have hit me? Would he dare to? Wiping off an isolated tear that rolled down my cheek, I left. In a corporate organisation, actions like these ensured that you got fired. I knew the manager of the quality department was wrong. He had no right to treat anyone this way. And yet I had let it happen for a grand total of eight months. I was just 22. My confidence was shattered day by day in that organisation. I still stuck around because I'm a fighter, not ...
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The Air Down There

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Being short does not go unnoticed in today’s world. You would think that being below the average height would let you get away with stuff because… well… no one is looking at you. You would be wrong. Its bad enough that you get called out in school for being short. Class photographs, sports day, choir practice, physical ed training, including random sunny days, but it doesn’t end there. Being an above average student all my life did not help either. The only thing people focused on was that my height did not match the requirement. “Where is the rest of you?” They would often ask, almost as if they were expecting a reply like – “Oh I got tired of being tall so I just shaved off part of my legs.” You must’ve noticed a trend of 'the short people look' taking over society these days. I certainly have noticed more and more Indian women making eye contact with me or looking up to me (in the literal sense) and its probably just genetics playing up. Its no wonder that we have more ...
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