Social Anxiety: Day 1

“Sir, I need a leave day after tomorrow. I am going to the village,” I said, the same way my seniors do almost every week.
“What’s the reason?” he, the CTO, asked.
…and the plan failed as soon as he asked the reason, looking at my eyes. Should I lie that I am going to resolve the years of dispute going on in the whole family for my late grandfather’s undivided property? But as he waited, looking at me—
“Sir, I have to go for NGO work,” I said.
Of course, they had little or no knowledge of what I do besides coding. Anyway, I got it.
Journey begins
The plan was being finalised about 2 weeks ago, when I realised it’s no more a trip but a pre-planned drive. The difference from a regular drive was that it was going to last for 3 days and 3 nights. Even the online meeting was the longest in the history of our NGO—about 3 hours—which ended with responsibilities.
It had 5–6 major events such as pad distribution with nukkad natak, a scholarship test, career counselling, and stalls on day 3 for games, health, education, blood donation, and…
“Is there any stall left?” asked Raghav.
I took the lead of career counselling, Uthan Abhiyan (a government scheme registration desk), and “I can do any role, no issue,” I affirmed for the nukkad natak.
“Okay Ravi, perform the role of Reena’s brother,” Rishika instructed, the one leading the nukkad natak.
Flashback
“It was a good time when father used to take us to the Sunday market every week and gave us pocket money, isn’t it, sis?” I said as I.
“Yes, but things changed since he came back from his last visit to the hometown,” I said as her.
“But anyway, wouldn’t it be boring if there is no conflict in the family? Like the neighbours living beside our home,” I said as I.
monologue ends
“Ravi, actually it isn’t boring when there is no conflict at home,” someone shared as feedback.
…later for another performance.
“I see an actor in you. It just has to be brought out,” said the director.
…next day,
I left Yavnika, the drama society.
Back to present
It was all set. I packed T-shirts, medicines, bananas, and a pair of casual slippers (well suggested by Ashish and better than iron, I guess). I didn’t just use Ashish’s idea but also imitated his voice the whole time.
Anyway, I followed my sense of maturity, or say introvert-like maturity, of following Google Maps, signboards, and online bookings, like I always do. The only thing that seemed different was… this time I wasn’t coming home but going away. A little scary. Scary about how people looked at 10 PM in the metro. One of them being asleep, his head on my shoulders.
“How weird he is, sleeping like that, isn’t he?” a Gen Z-looking girl tried catching the attention of a Gen Z-looking guy sitting beside her, using that sleepy guy as a topic.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” a Gen Z reply from that Gen Z-looking guy.
Soon, the sleepy guy woke up and we told him that his station had gone back 2 stations.
Moving forward…
I reached the platform just 5 minutes before departure. Ashish did the same and thanked the Rapido guy who jumped red lights for him.
It was a strange feeling… a feeling of being alone… a feeling of distrust… confusion.
And suddenly, Ashish disappeared. Then came the T.T.
“Hm… which seats do you have?”
“3 and 5, Ravi and Ashish,” I said.
“Okay, and where is this Ashish?” he asked.
Wait… what?? Where did he just disappear? Did he run away after seeing the T.T.? Are our tickets booked by him fake? Is it another time I am going to be deceived by someone?
All this I was wondering, looking at the T.T., then came Ashish.
“What happened Ravi, all fine?”
T.T. went back
“Oh, nothing… all fine. I showed our tickets.”
That night, I didn’t even remove my shoes while lying down until a woman said,
“Boy, no one is going to steal your shoes.”
reached Gwalior, MP
“Hello Surbhi, we reached the station. Where are you all?” I called, as motivated by Ashish.
“I am Anjali, and we are waiting at the bus stop.”
It was just the start of mispronouncing or forgetting people’s names.
We met Team Gwalior, a bunch of MIT…S guys pursuing a variety of B.Tech. courses, and probably the people who started the “Sir” trend in the group on my birthday.
“Actually, we follow this ritual in our college,” someone out of them justified.
A Little Flashback
“I am going to cut the cake for the first time” (my own cake, to be cut by me only), I said to my colleagues. Actually, I didn’t expect it.
“Ravi… happy birthday,” a stranger girl announced as soon as I entered the office.
“What…?” Me checking the calendar.
“Oh… yeah, thanks, it is my birthday,” I said.
They started laughing, me shying.
Later…
“Oh, happy birthday Ravi,” ma’am said.
“Happy birthday ma’am… oh sorry, I mean thank you ma’am,” I said. Again, weird… I know.
And it went like this until they really surprised me with a birthday cake and pushing that frozen cake into my mouth and playing something like Holi too. I later got a cold and cough.
Day 1: Arrival at Gopalpura
The bus left us on a roadside.
“So this is a village, I came for the first time,” Likhit said, someone kind of Aditya’s alternative but more humble and more Indian, and maybe not his alternative. He already had a long list of wishes to be fulfilled on the first day, and I always reminded him of the list so he would remind them and my inner me would get the benefits too.
A few greetings in UP’s accent, morning breakfast with some sweets, and then the adventure started.
Travelog
I was walking in casual slippers (or whatever you call it), the same slippers for which the shopkeeper said, “it won’t survive long.” It survived in the most dangerous way that even bare grills might not have taken.
Why not say it: Man vs Wild Gramsutr edition.
It started with some more introductions, introductions of villagers who were going to guide us and help us interact with the villagers.
Everyone walking along the road. Extroverts talking to anyone they found. People in groups talking to each other. Me picking Ashish or someone from Gwalior. Likhit picking up his wishlist, to jump a stream of river flow where some kids were bathing with bulls. I was also supporting him from inside or you can say hoping. We had just started to think how a village could have so many services and a concrete road to walk on, then came a right-angle turn. Straight in front of us was a deserted path where a “danger ahead” sign was missing. For more information, I tried talking to some native girls walking beside us. “It’s our first time too on this way,” they said. We all started making jokes to normalise the situation. Another right-angle turn and it changed from deserted to spiky. Huh… there must be a way, so what if there are spikes all around. So what if some spikes pierced through my slippers. It’s okay. I have to take care of people around me. Crossing an electric pole over a river stream, clearing the spiky plants and branches and giving them a hand—
“I don’t want your help. I can get down on my own as I have an army background,” Rishika said.
“Ooh, someone rejected the princess treatment,” a Gwalior girl named Aditi said. It was hard to remember their names, but I did, especially hers.
Although the village girls had no idea about the adventure, they had stories to tell about the village, the geography, and places where water flows out of the ground without electric pumps or hand pump exercises. I was not interested in asking “how the water comes out” because they were educated enough to know about ground levels, so I asked—
“What if there is an overflow of water or a flood in the village?”
“We go to higher altitudes,” they replied.
“Would your Raghav bhaiya allow everyone into his home in such a case?” I added sarcastically. It was a fact that Raghav was known and respected enough in the village, and his house was probably on the highest altitude, which we later saw with our own eyes.
Drinking the magical water, crossing a tree on a ravine, climbing up and down the geography, using a grass-chopping machine, saying “Ram-Ram” to villagers, walking the outskirts for hours, we reached a haunted palace. Yep, something I have always dreamed of since my childhood. It wasn’t simple sightseeing though. We climbed the hill through spiky bushes and I couldn’t stop saying—
“What if someone ahead of us starts rolling down?”
“What if I start rolling down?”
Everyone was laughing with fear listening to me as it wasn’t a smooth but a spiky slope.
I was still giving gentleman help to ladies, especially the ones who didn’t have an army background. And sometimes I gave the ladies a chance to be gentlewomen. Clearing through the spikes, we entered the old palace with no doors and plants and creepers all around, making it more creepy.
“I guess the child is feeling tired,” I said to people around, looking at Aditi resting for a while. It slipped through my tongue as I barely saw her walking with enthusiasm. Although she climbed a tree along with me. Talking about the palace, it was a maze. A palace where the king would have infinite ways to hide. The infrastructure was half destroyed, yet crossing through walls and windows, we reached the roof.
“Hey guys, look, I am going to jump. Huhhaa,” and I jumped to a lower roof behind a wall, creating a scene that I mistakenly fell off.
“Ravi, the place you are standing on is too old. Your jokes can get real,” Raghav said, making it a serious topic, although nobody laughed at my act in the first place.
Finally, we came back to our banquet (the place where we actually stayed).
Rest? Nooo!
And it’s just half of Day 1.
To be continued…

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