Falling In Love With A Psychopath

“Is that your underwear that is hanging there?” He suddenly asked. I couldn't even look back to make sure if it was really mine because I was so embarrassed. I felt guilty when my roommate asked me who he was. How could I tell her that I had invited a stranger in our room—a stranger who didn't mind inquiring about our underwear?

The evening wouldn't have turned awkward the way it did if I had been careful while buying groceries. I had accidently picked his bag of vegetables up instead of mine and I wouldn't have realized it if my maid hadn't asked me whether she should fry the beans or make a gravy. It struck me, right then, that I had picked up someone else’s grocery bag because I had bought ‘Parwal’ and not beans. Little did I know that this minor accident was going to turn into a major headache.

Our doorbell never ranged after 8 pm in the afternoon. Not because we had strict house-owner; but because we didn't have enough close friends who would surprise us by knocking our door late in the afternoon. I opened the door to a Nepali guy—the guy who embarrassed me rest of the evening.

“Are you looking for someone?”

“No.” He replied in a robotic tone.

“What are you doing knocking our door late at night then?”

“You took my bag of vegetables.” I swear that I had started to believe that he was some sort of ROBOT.

“Oh that.” I turned back to look at the kitchen to find that our maid had already gone. It meant she had cooked all the beans.

“‟Oh that‟what?”

“Sorry. Our maid already cooked it.”

“What?”

“You can smell the gravy from here.” He pushed me aside and stuck his nose to really take a smell.

“I hate Parwal,” he said in a sad voice. That is probably how a sad robot would sound.

“I am so sorry.”

“I am hungry. I wish that your apologies filled my belly.” That was definitely sarcasm. “I lost my appetite.”

“You can join us if you want to.” I shouldn't have said that.

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He pushed me aside and made himself comfortable on my bed.

“But you should leave that packet of parwal here with me.”

“Definitely. I hate it anyway.”

I went to inform my roommate about our new guest but she was taking shower. It is really hot in Delhi during summer. I just waited outside for her to come out because I didn't want to go to my room because he was sitting there.

“Meet my roommate, Prakriti.” I tried and introduced him to my roommate.

“Hmm.” He didn't even consider looking at her.

“Is that your underwear hanging there?” He suddenly asked breaching the awkward silence between three of us. My roommate shrugged at me to ask who he really was but I had no clue. I only knew that he hated parwal.

“I hate pink. It reminds me of Diegene. Diegene reminds me of toilet. And toilet reminds me of shit. I hate shit,” he mumbled his poem without even pausing to breath. My roommate and I were now sure that he was some sort of a psychopath.

We sat on the floor to have the dinner. He settled comfortably resting his back against the edge of my bed. He didn't speak the entire time he ate.

“Where do you work?” My roommate tried to break the ice.

“In a CA firm near Chandni Chowk,” he answered and added extra information, “I hate traveling in a metro.” He was so irritating with his tone of voice.

“What is your name?” I asked. My roommate quickly looked at me as if to say „you do not even know his name and you invited him to dine with us!‟

“My name is Angad. I am at final level of CA course. I live in Laxminagar.” I felt nauseated because of his reply.

He washed the dishes he ate in and took a permission to leave. I do not know about my roommate but I was so happy to have finally gotten rid of him. But before he left he gestured me to bring my ears closer to him and whispered, “You shouldn't hang your underwears there. Have you seen the guys who live right opposite to your building? They watch you come out of shower. You should hang a curtain instead.”

He was right.

It had been a few months since that awfully awkward incident happened. The days went peaceful. I am exaggerating. To be honest, going to office and coming back home sucked life out of me.

It was raining that night when I met him the second time. I was returning to my room when it suddenly started to pour and I was completely drenched. I was furious at my boss for having me work in the office till 9 in the afternoon. I had to walk to my room alone from office and I felt exceptionally helpless that night. It was a very scary night.

I was alone in the entire street and I hadn't reached my room yet when a scooter carrying three boys who covered their faces with handkerchief stopped right in front of me. I knew, right then, what was going to happen to me. The thing I daily read about in newspapers was going to happen to me. I stood there incapacitated while they got off the scooter. I felt so hopeless and frightened at that moment that I started to cry.

A guy forced his hands to feel my bosoms while the rest of them kept on laughing hysterically. It hurt me and I was petrified.  

“Unbutton our dear Madam’s shirt,” another guy ordered.

I closed my eyes waiting for the nightmare to get over. I desperately prayed that I fainted so

that I did not have to live that horrible moment.   

But nothing happened. I stood there for a minute and nothing happened. I finally managed to open my eyes to find myself wrapped around that psycho‟s, Angad's, arms. I almost thought that he was with them. But he was not.

“Oi Kid, Do you want to die?” A guy masked in a pink ‘kerchief asked.

Angad wrapped me tighter in his arms.

“I said do you have a death-wish?” The masked guy asked again.

“I definitely don't. But do you?” He asked in the same Robotic tone.

“Are you kidding me? You are going to kill us?”

“I would have killed you a moment ago but my friends missed a galli. And here--,” he took a paper out, “—your name is Pankaj Ojha and you are from Uttarakhand, your mother‟s name is Ramadevi Ojha and your father Sasi Ojha is a farmer.”

“I hate pink--,” he pointed at the 'kerchief of the man who was now dumbstruck.

“—it reminds him of diegene and diegene reminds him of toilet and..and..toilet reminds him of shit. He hates shit.” I finally found my confidence.

“What are you going to do with that paper?” A guy who masked himself with blue 'kerchief asked.

“And you fatso--,” he pointed at him,”—your name is Ganesh Rawat, and your father….” He stopped as he was interrupted.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Well,” he said with his ROBOTIC voice, “if my friends fail to arrive here at time and if you managed to beat me up and rape her till then,” he looked at me, “I will still love her no matter what--,” he then looked at them with eyes filled with fury, “--but you can't beat me to death because you simply can't. And when I will wake up in the hospital bed, by then my friend must have started looking for you, I will buy a ticket right to your hometown,” he pointed at guy with the pink 'kerchief, “and find your family and torture them till they give me a handwritten order to kill you.”

The boys burst into laughter together but abruptly halted because Angad's seriousness overpowered the situation.

“And you with the black 'kerchief. I will rape your sister. Maya is her name right?” I couldn't believe that he said that. “You shouldn't have touched her.”

His friends had arrived while Angad and the goons exchanged dialogues.

“I have already called police. They must be arriving. Meanwhile, you three face the wall,” he said as his friends started taking their weapons out—from knuckles to cricket bat—“and started to beat them with all the power they had.”

“Care to join?” Angad asked.

I took a rod from him and started to beat the guy who had touched me. I almost killed him but he fainted instead. I felt so relieved. When the police arrived, Angad's friend had left the scene. Angad acted as if he didn't know me and convinced them that he and I beat them out of self-defense. Thanks to Delhi Government leniency when it comes to women violence. I wasn't asked much question and I had to just file the FIR and leave the station.

“How did you find me there?” I asked as I was curious to know how he came there coincidentally to save me.

“I was following you since few weeks.”

“What?”

“Yes. I had fallen in love with you and I didn't know what to do so I just followed you.” He replied with the same ROBOTIC tone.

“What the? How did you know their name? I am confused.”

“Remember what I told you about hanging a curtain instead of hanging your underwear there?”

“Yes.”

“These guys who attacked you were the guys who stayed in the house opposite to your room. I had seen them that day talking on the balcony about a girl going to bathroom. And when your roommate came out of shower with wet hair, I realized that these guys were talking about your roommate. I realized how criminally perverted these guys were. I ran to their house-owner the very next day acting as an employee from census department and noted their details down from their rent agreement.”

“Wow!” I was awestruck.

“I hadn't guessed that they would attack you. Thank God that I had the note in my pocket.”

“You are a psycho.”

“No, I am a psychopath who was following you and who ended up saving your life.”

“Do you love me that much?”

“I haven't followed any girl before.” He replied.

“And those dirty things you said.”

“What dirty things?”

“About raping his sister Maya? I was so scared of you then.”

“I just said that because of the heat of the moment. I didn't want them to attack you. I wanted to scare them. I love you.”

“This is not the right time to confess that,” I said as I got in the police van which would later drop me outside my room.

“I will keep on following you then,” He passed a robotic smile.

My boyfriend is a psychopath.  

One day we were watching a music video by „Phony Confessors‟ when I was hit with a realization which I blurted out quickly, “How did you know that it was me who took your groceries? How did you even find my address the first time?”

“Good question,” he replied and pulled me towards him to kiss me.

To this day, I do not know how he even found my address and how he knew that it was me who took his groceries

image courtesy: wall321.com