Three years it has been since my life took a 'U' turn. Three years since I last got scared.
I remember the day as if it were only yesterday. I was a techie, working night shifts in a reputed firm, leading a normal, daily routine. Atleast that was what I thought was normal at that time. That day was no different from any other. My colleagues and I had a sort of tradition then. We always walked down to the cafe, in the adjoining lane, after finishing our shifts, to get some coffee time together, before our pick up vehicle arrived. As always, I got done with my shift at 4:30am, earlier than the others, and began to walk towards the cafe. It was pitch dark as usual, but since it was a daily routine, I had gotten used to the grave and spooky silence. I put on my headphones to help me with the silence and walked past the bus stop. That is when things fell out of the routine. I began to get this weird, insecure feeling that I was not alone in the street. I turned around and to my horror, I realized that I was not. I saw a man, with dirty, torn clothes and a horrifying face, not more than 25 yards away. He held his hand up as if he were calling out for me. I began to walk faster for reasons I don't know. I turned back once again, only to see that the distance between the man and me was getting smaller! He was following me and that thought was enough to scare the bejesus out of me. That was the most frightened I had ever been in my life. At this point, I began to run with all my might, without looking back. I reached the cafe, got in and shut the glass door behind me. Gasping away endlessly, I turned back to look through the glass door if the man was still there. But the street looked empty. There was no sign of him. My colleagues arrived soon after, but i did not tell them about the incident because I did not want to come across as a paranoid person. Trying to get the man's face out of my mind, I continued with my routine. I got home and crashed on the bed within no time. That dream i can never forget. That man's face haunted me even in my sleep. I saw the man grabbing me, his eyes turning red. I saw him tear away my clothes. I managed to get myself out of his grasps and ran as fast as I could, only to be hit by a car. I got whacked out of my sleep, with a bad headache. The rest of my day went by, trying to get a hold of myself and get the man out of my head.
The following night, at work, my headache hindered in my work. In-spite of being grilled by half a dozen colleagues if I was okay, I did not share the incident with them. I thought talking about it would only make it worse. I wanted to forget that it happened and get on with the routine. With great difficulty, I sank myself in my computer screen for hours. My shift ended at 4:30 once again. Only this time, I was too scared to get out all alone. I decided to wait for my colleagues to finish their work. By 5, they called it a day and we marched to the cafe. Their usual conversation and vulgar jokes managed to crack me up and the coffee helped me with my headache. Just when I thought that the worst was over, I looked up through the glass door to find the same man standing across the street, glaring into the cafe. My heart skipped a beat and my panic was out of control. I held the hand of my colleague, sitting next to me, real tight and my eyes were fixated on the man outside. This time I decided to tell my colleagues because I realized that I was being stalked. After listening to me, two of them got up and went outside to look for the man. The others were trying their best to comfort me and calm me down. The two returned with the news that the man had gotten away. But the men managed to scare him which meant that he would not try to approach me again. I hoped.
About a week passed and there was no sign of him. I was convinced that the bad episode was over and that things were back to normal again. My life became steady once again and the routine fell back in place. I got done with work, packed my bags and walked down the stairs. I was dying to be rejuvenated by a cup of coffee. Just as I reached the foot of the building, I saw him again. This time, he was waiting for me at my office. After a small battle in my head, I decided to face him instead of running and hiding. I put my hand in my bag and reached for the pepper spray I had bought after I first saw him. The man, covered in scum, staggered towards me slowly. I was ready for him, ready to put him to ground this time. He was about 2 yards away from me when he put his hand into his pocket and mumbled “this is yours”, and before he could do anything, my fear got the best of me and I emptied the pepper spray can in his face. He shouted and screamed in pain before falling to the ground. In his hand, I saw my silver anklet.
Three years it has been since my life took a 'U' turn. Three years since I last got scared. Three years since a homeless man taught me that fear is the demon.
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