Stepping out of my society, walking down the street — Chennai is the kind of place where your oversized shirt suddenly becomes tight fit. People doesnt seem to care. But they do. They care about people.
When I first came to Chennai, I was terrified. I didn't understand how the city works. The auto drivers swindled me. On the bus, a middle-aged woman told me, "Don't show fear in your eyes, even if you're nervous."
It took a while to settle in. This city is good. This city is bad. People are kind and harsh at the same time.
When it rains, it's worse. But when it rains just right, the city is beautiful. Watching the lights through the rain from the balcony—it's a feeling I can't explain.
I used to have loud opinions when I arrived here. Chennai humbled me.
I work at a mid-sized company doing 3D art for games. It's not very popular, the pay isn't great either, but it's decent. It feels… okay.
Since it's Sunday, I thought I'd get a haircut. I crossed the footbridge to my usual salon. The staff are professional. When they wash my hair, I almost fall asleep. It feels like heaven. Just as I was enjoying the massage, my phone rang.
"Hello?" I answered, annoyed. It was the third time my mom had called today. It's always a little painful. I've never been a good daughter. She hasn't always been a good mother.
I lost my father during my second year of college. I want to be kind to her. But my impulsiveness usually wins.
Outside, the rain started to pour.
"Have you eaten?" she asked.
It's the same question every day.
"If that's all you want to know, I'm hanging up."
I heard her complaining on the other end, but I ended the call anyway.
When I stepped out of the salon, water had pooled in little holes across the street. I walked carefully, but still managed to get my dress and shoes wet. Clumsy as always.
A dog came up to me. When it realized I had nothing to offer, it walked away. Maybe I imagined it, but I think it looked at me sarcastically.
While climbing the bridge steps, I accidentally opened Instagram. The first post was a young couple, smiling. Caption: "Married and happy."
I don't want all that—but still, I felt a little annoyed.
It's not like I don't meet nice guys. I do—almost every day.
One day, a stranger held his umbrella over me when it was raining. He walked me to the gate. We didn't know each other. We didn't even speak. this is particularly special to me , with the vehicle lights and people watching, we just walked.
In the office lift, there's a guy I see sometimes. We don't talk much, but he always asks how I am.
Once, someone even played a Taylor Swift song when I asked.
But nothing ever happens after that.
Little did I know, all of this would lead me there.
The next morning, with my new haircut, I felt like I'd stepped out of a movie. You know how every fresh cut makes you feel like someone entirely different?
My roommate had made banana-choco milk — some recipe she saw on Instagram. She practically shoved it into my mouth before I could even taste it.
"Eat something! And wake up early. And shower before going to work!" she scolded.
I did not shower. I just changed into clean clothes and sprayed on my favorite perfume — the one I knew wouldn't last past the first hour.
"Thanks," I said, taking a sip. "This tastes disgusting. I'm going now."
"It's my mistake for giving it to you," she replied, rolling her eyes.
She's a professor at a well-known university. I don't care much about her work. Neither does she, honestly. But somehow, we're best friends.
"Anyway, bye. I love you," I said, already halfway out the door.
I was in a good mood — the haircut was still making me feel fabulous.
I rushed to the bus stop. Yesterday it was pouring, and today it's hot. "God, help me," I muttered. The bus was crowded, of course.
"When will the population decrease? People should just stop giving birth," I thought, while squeezing into a corner.
By the time I reached the office, I was sweating, my hair was a mess, and my perfume had vanished. Nothing could possibly make the day worse.
Then I stepped into the lift and opened Instagram.
"Happy with him " — the same person from last time had posted again. It felt personal, like she was showing it just to me.
I had a massive crush on the guy standing next to her in the picture. She knew that. And she wasn't exactly thrilled when she found it in school