Within My Mind?!

Around half-past one in the afternoon, my mother pulled me into the house. She lifted me up slowly with all her strength—yes, I was heavy. She made me sit in the nearest chair. Then she rushed to the kitchen and returned with a glass of chilled water—much required for a hot and humid outdoor. "How did all this happen? There are bruises on your legs, knees, arms, and shoulders! Did you get into a fight with someone? I don't think you would do something like that. Just tell me what happened!" She was confused, shocked, and, above all, worried. I had not reserved any energy to talk and had exhausted everything on the way back cycling. I simply lifted my index finger and pointed to the television. She understood something serious had happened and switched on a local news channel. "There was a blast? A blast in the petrol pump near Governor House? (A brief pause) That looks intense! Thank God you didn't suffer anything serious. Let me bring some bandages. I will tie t...

'I would agree that it was tough for me. It was unbearable pain. You know, Ma, it hurts right in the heart. I am a good boy. I have done no wrong intentionally to anyone I know. Yes, I played tricks on some people but have never hurt them. Sometimes, I have even sacrificed what might be better for me for their happiness. But see, here I am, breathing my last. God, indeed, is cruel.  I love old country songs, you know that. I have even made you listen to some of them, though you never liked them. How much I want to go back to those moments when you would make fun of my taste in music, and I would try to defend how great they are. Good times!' "Madam, we fear your son has attempted to do something horrible to himself.  This kind of note is mostly found, to be specific, in cases of..." "I know what you are getting at. I do not want to believe my son did something like that. I have raised him well. I know that. It is some staging done by someone who probably kidnappe...

Prelude: I and my thirty-five-year-old self set a challenge: if I say yes to writing before midnight, I have to continue writing; else not. He somehow can enter my consciousness (I do not understand how so much happens in 14 years).   Battleground: My conscience. I was reasonably confident that he would never have the slightest idea of me spending time inside a bar. Well, it was more of a restaurant and less of a bar, but there was a bar component.  I sighed in relief before opening the door. I took a quick peek behind my back, saw no familiar faces, and went in. It was silent compared to what I had imagined, and I was tense. I saw each table occupied except one in the corner of the room—a vacant chair and a gorgeous lady. I walked slowly towards that table.  "Is this seat taken?" I asked with utmost politeness. "No. You can occupy," she replied in one of the most beautiful voices. I slid the chair slowly and adjusted myself with the least amount of noise. "Ar...

You all would be wondering (I hope) what the hell happened to me? This brief tale should answer your queries, take you on a short nostalgic trip, and might put a full stop on this blog. The date is August 29, 2020.  Someone called me from behind when  I was walking downstairs. "Siba, right?" "Yeah, that would be me. Do I know you?"  "I would say so. I am Siba Smarak Panigrahi." I froze. Did he just repeat my name? As far as I remember, only one of me is on this Earth. Obviously, I had searched my name on Google. "I am from 2030" Was that meant to give relief? I went into another deep shock. "Great Scott! Time-travel comes around in 10 years?" said I. "That's what you are worried about?"  "Just wait." I looked down, took three deep breaths, gave a tight slap on my cheek, pinched myself, rubbed my hands, warmed my eyes, and said, "Well, he should be gone by now." "Hello! I am real for God's sake!...

A man sprinted out of the airport, his face drenched in sweat. He looked like someone was chasing him—someone out for his life. But when I scanned the area, nobody seemed to be a threat. He burst through the exit. Gasping for air, he bent slightly, trying to collect himself. His frantic behaviour drew puzzled glances and aroused curiosity but not enough care. I couldn't ignore it. As a seasoned psychologist, I had seen erratic behaviour before, but this was different. It gripped me. It felt like my duty to approach him and offer some kind of reassurance. I had time with my flight delayed—and with further chances of delay.  Just as I started walking toward the exit, I saw him again. He had re-entered the airport. I observed him closely this time. I could sense fear in his mind. He was in his early thirties, well-groomed, seemingly single. He lingered near the guard for five minutes, his hands twitching, his breathing uneven.  Then, without warning, he shoved the guard aside and...

"How about the 8th of September? If that works for you." The message was direct and caught me off guard. I tried to remember if I had any plans, but nothing came to mind. So, I agreed without hesitation. We quickly settled on a place, and just like that, it was happening. I could hardly believe it—I had a date set up through an online dating site.