“I respect Women. And; when I say I’ve never stalked any woman, I mean it!”
“Ok. As much as you want me to believe you, I don’t. Define stalking.”
“Follow stealthily or recur constantly and spontaneously to.”
“Good. Now define it in your own words.”
“Fine. When a man follows another stealthily, recurrently for his own vested interests; he is stalking. He can follow for gaining access to the other person, to be privy to key information, or to simply gain the other person’s confidence. He may as well want to be with that per. . . . s. . .o. . .n”
“Now. Please answer thee first question, again.”
“I’ve stalked a woman. Online.”
And he started recounting the episode to himself in a voluntary self-interrogation session, which was triggered after he watched a TV Show where women were discussing their stalking experiences.
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He right-clicked on that particular photograph that caught his eye, and saved it in his downloads folder. “Damn! The internet!”, the internet disconnected itself just as he finished his download. He spent the next few hours of the night by simply staring that photograph.
“Look at her eyes, those pairs of spectacles, that slick black dress. That blue hair-band is looking beautiful on her head, like a tiara. I so wanna meet you, just be with you”, he was whispering all this fully aware that his younger brother was sleeping next to him. Once he was done with what he wanted to, a shudder passed through his body. He closed his laptop lid, and went to sleep.
The next day, he logged into FB. “What was that page? Yeah! Hot as hell people on fb!”, he was typing faster than ever. He quickly scrolled for that particular photograph. He enlarged it. “Right click, reverse search with google — and google will tell me who she is!”, he sneered. But the internet connection was too slow for it. He took 20 bucks from his wallet and dashed to the nearest internet café.
Google didn’t throw any relevant results. He was disappointed. “What if I read those comments?”, his idle mind had become a devil’s R&D lab! He scrolled through the image comments, of no use. He gave a cursive glance to the caption. “Found it!”, he shouted and sprang from his stool. The café owner gave an angry glance. He sat back and quickly opened her FB profile. “Awww. . She looks so beautiful. Like a Cinderella doll!”, he scrolled through her photographs. He downloaded all of them and saved it in his pen drive.
Back home, his laptop was fully charged by now. He simply stared at those photographs, reimaging the scenes — as if he clicked those photographs. He found that she lived in Pune, and studied in an engineering college. “How far is Pune? Which train goes to Pune? What color does she like most? I am loaded!”, he congratulated himself. He had everything, ecvept the money needed for travel and her mobile number.
“Your blue hair-band looks very attractive on your head”
He had messaged this to her on FB. A reply came within minutes. He was on cloud nine!
“Ty ;)”
“Yae! She winked! She WiNkEd!”, he was internally shouting in delight. He shot her a friend request.
A day passed. The day after tomorrow passed. She had not accepted her friend request. He thought of those movies where the heroine ultimately gives in to the Hero’s constant nagging and that’s when love blossoms! Will his heroine yield?
“I’ve sent you a friend request, and you’ve not accepted it yet”, he shot her another message.
“??!”, she replied.
He waited for another day. Then he cancelled his friend request. But, that was not enough. He could not get over her. He had to be with her.
“I just want to be friends with you!”, he shot the message and regretted. A lot.
Like a lightning struck him, his mind went numb. He got back home and thought of his actions. Was she obliged to accept his friend request? Was she obliged to befriend him? Should her wink-smiley be taken in the wrong sense? Does the fact that she posted her photo in a community page gave him the right to approach her so brazenly? He did not know what he did in those few days. He had stalked a woman. Ignorance of a crime is not an excuse in itself. He was well over 18. He had graduated from one of the best colleges in India, and was lauded to be open-minded and logical. Was his action logical? No. He was infatuated. His brain was infected with lust. Was this enough reason for him to do what he did?
She didn’t reply to his last message. He didn’t have the courage to reply back saying “Sorry”!
So much for the fulfilment of temporal desires. A year has passed. This incident still haunted him. So much that when he saw that TV Show, he saw himself in one of the stalkers! That was when he asked himself those questions, and realized, to the full extent, the prospective ramifications of his actions. He was not afraid of the legal ones. He was afraid that he’d never be able to look into his own eyes. He was afraid that he would rather chop his fingers than forgive himself!
To the readers:Stalking is an offence, a legal one. All I’m saying is this. Respect the fact that the other person has a brain of his/her own. Love, care, affection; they come by choice. They cannot be forced.
Refuge 