As I walk home from the station everyday, I’m repeatedly looking over my shoulder

Black and white picture of a woman | Pexels

It was another night after a long day’s work. The bus was late and I reached Nungambakkam railway station at 9.20 pm — the time I usually walk home from my destination railway station. Concerned calls from my family come every single night ever since that fateful day poor 24-year-old Swathi was hacked to death on the very same platform that I board my home-bound train every day.

Ramkumar was stalking her, the reports said. Shudders ran through my spine the moment I read that particular statement. Why, you ask? The memories of being stalked as a school girl rushed back to haunt me. Those days of riding a bicycle home and being carefree were daunted by senior boys who bicycled behind me.

“Don’t you understand? He loves you,” a friend of his told me once. I never understood. I was all of 15 anyway. “What does love have to do with following me around,” I mused, until I realised how scary the whole situation was. Was I supposed to swoon over the fact that an unknown person, who not only studied in the same school but knew where I lived, could cause me physical harm, or worse yet make me the reason he committed suicide? I remember being scared, and the distinctive feeling of making my friend (lest he get the idea I’m interested in him) look over our shoulder every corner we turned.

Published by roshnikarthikeyan

Welcome to my blog. I’m Roshni. I’m a proud Madrasi (living in rainy Seattle) and I absolutely love tea (nope, not filter kaapi). I'm a traveler and writer for the pure love of it. In this space you can find my travel stories, some amateurish photos, midnight philosophies, some vegetarian recipes and diet plans, and maybe more! You can feel free to comment on my posts here, follow me on Twitter @book_polygamist, on Instagram @trottertales. Hope you enjoy my journey and be sure to share yours. I'll definitely add it to my ever piling reading list. Cheers!

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