His name is P. I met him seven years ago, in 2013, probably somewhere between 2012 and 2013 if my memory serves me right.
I had just graduated from an intern to a researcher in my previous company, an English news channel. And therefore, would consider it as my moral responsibility (which I still abide by dutifully) to treat interns well and help them as they try hard to make a mark at a place where nobody cares for them and hardly anyone notices them.
I befriended P and soon our mutual interest in news would lead to discussion on current affairs and stories and conversations revolved around journalists we adored.
It was a month-long stint for P and then he left. We continued to stay in touch in the banal world of social media and LinkedIn.
A year later, in 2014, one day I got a call from the reception that Mr P is here to see you. I wasn't sure who it could be and was pleasantly surprised to meet P again.
He came with me inside the newsroom and after a brief exchange of social niceties, since the show I worked for was about to go on air, I began giving him hints that it was time to leave.
And he left, so I thought.
Next day, a senior colleague informed me that my friend P had been the source of a mini ruckus at office last evening.
Apparently P had come again and behaved absurdly before a female anchor and had to be escorted out with the help of security guards. As scandalised as I was, it was still befuddling for me as I tried connecting the dots...what led P to behave like this?
I didn't have his no. so couldn't get his version.
Days went by, few weeks later, I got a call from the reception again informing that Mr P is here to see you.
I was furious at P's audacity to come to my workplace yet again after all the earlier tamasha, not to forget the embarrassment I had to face because of his kiddish actions.
Often when one is faced with an unwarranted situation, a very generic human tendency is to shut out that person or those circumstances because you are not in a position to process them.
This is exactly what happened, on a 9-hr shift for a primetime show at India's leading news channel, I didn't have the mental bandwidth to process what P was going through.
At the front office, I first asked him to step out for a chat and then lashed out at him for his eccentric behaviour. 'Just go away and don't use my name', I screamed at him.
In a shaking voice, he, then said, 'I'm suffering from schizophrenia', and held out a newspaper clipping with an advert from his family, his photo and some appeal which I frankly couldn't register then and so can't recall now.
'Just go away now', I shouted at him again.
And P went away.
Three years later, sometime in Feb 2017, after switching to another firm, I was on my way home after attending a friend's engagement ceremony. Had stopped midway to catch up with another pal. While I was waiting for this friend outside a restaurant, I got a call.
An SHO from a police station in south Delhi wanted to record my statement. It was about P again. P had again tried to allegedly call and harass another anchor at my previous company and this time a formal complaint had been filed against him. 'Give me some time, will let you know when I can come at the thana', I told the guy and hung up.
I knew P's internal demons had got the better of him yet again. Few calls from the police and some months later I decided not to record any statement. My own personal and professional life demanded a lot of attention at that point of time and everything else eventually took a backseat.
I blocked P from everywhere -- social media and mental space.
December 2019. Capital was and still continues to be abuzz with protests against the controversial Citizenship Amendment Act.
I was outside Jamia few days after the violent crackdown by the Delhi police in which students were injured leading to a charged atmosphere against the State.
I had just reached the main gate of Jamia, taken few shots from the mobile and hand-held selfie stick.
Had to send visuals back to office via WhatsApp so had taken a step back from the crowd milling around gate no. 7 on both sides.
'Hi Akanksha', someone said from behind. I turned around, few grey hairs, some more weight but it didn't take long to recognise who it was -- P stood in front of me, smiling uncomfortably.
He didn't say sorry. 'Got acquitted in the case as judge finally realised that my actions were not in my control. I will be on medication throughout my life', he informed.
I was busy as usual, it was a news heavy day when I had hit the field and after brief exchange of pleasantries, I bid P goodbye.
We didn't exchange numbers. He did promise to check out my stories. He remembered the last one I had filed as an intern. 'About kids who were mathematical wizards', I was astonished at his memory.
P is working these days, hoping to build life afresh.
I wanted to unblock him and reach out again....but this time I couldn't track him in the banal world of social media.
I had just graduated from an intern to a researcher in my previous company, an English news channel. And therefore, would consider it as my moral responsibility (which I still abide by dutifully) to treat interns well and help them as they try hard to make a mark at a place where nobody cares for them and hardly anyone notices them.
I befriended P and soon our mutual interest in news would lead to discussion on current affairs and stories and conversations revolved around journalists we adored.
It was a month-long stint for P and then he left. We continued to stay in touch in the banal world of social media and LinkedIn.
A year later, in 2014, one day I got a call from the reception that Mr P is here to see you. I wasn't sure who it could be and was pleasantly surprised to meet P again.
He came with me inside the newsroom and after a brief exchange of social niceties, since the show I worked for was about to go on air, I began giving him hints that it was time to leave.
And he left, so I thought.
Next day, a senior colleague informed me that my friend P had been the source of a mini ruckus at office last evening.
Apparently P had come again and behaved absurdly before a female anchor and had to be escorted out with the help of security guards. As scandalised as I was, it was still befuddling for me as I tried connecting the dots...what led P to behave like this?
I didn't have his no. so couldn't get his version.
Days went by, few weeks later, I got a call from the reception again informing that Mr P is here to see you.
I was furious at P's audacity to come to my workplace yet again after all the earlier tamasha, not to forget the embarrassment I had to face because of his kiddish actions.
Often when one is faced with an unwarranted situation, a very generic human tendency is to shut out that person or those circumstances because you are not in a position to process them.
This is exactly what happened, on a 9-hr shift for a primetime show at India's leading news channel, I didn't have the mental bandwidth to process what P was going through.
At the front office, I first asked him to step out for a chat and then lashed out at him for his eccentric behaviour. 'Just go away and don't use my name', I screamed at him.
In a shaking voice, he, then said, 'I'm suffering from schizophrenia', and held out a newspaper clipping with an advert from his family, his photo and some appeal which I frankly couldn't register then and so can't recall now.
'Just go away now', I shouted at him again.
And P went away.
Three years later, sometime in Feb 2017, after switching to another firm, I was on my way home after attending a friend's engagement ceremony. Had stopped midway to catch up with another pal. While I was waiting for this friend outside a restaurant, I got a call.
An SHO from a police station in south Delhi wanted to record my statement. It was about P again. P had again tried to allegedly call and harass another anchor at my previous company and this time a formal complaint had been filed against him. 'Give me some time, will let you know when I can come at the thana', I told the guy and hung up.
I knew P's internal demons had got the better of him yet again. Few calls from the police and some months later I decided not to record any statement. My own personal and professional life demanded a lot of attention at that point of time and everything else eventually took a backseat.
I blocked P from everywhere -- social media and mental space.
December 2019. Capital was and still continues to be abuzz with protests against the controversial Citizenship Amendment Act.
I was outside Jamia few days after the violent crackdown by the Delhi police in which students were injured leading to a charged atmosphere against the State.
I had just reached the main gate of Jamia, taken few shots from the mobile and hand-held selfie stick.
Had to send visuals back to office via WhatsApp so had taken a step back from the crowd milling around gate no. 7 on both sides.
'Hi Akanksha', someone said from behind. I turned around, few grey hairs, some more weight but it didn't take long to recognise who it was -- P stood in front of me, smiling uncomfortably.
He didn't say sorry. 'Got acquitted in the case as judge finally realised that my actions were not in my control. I will be on medication throughout my life', he informed.
I was busy as usual, it was a news heavy day when I had hit the field and after brief exchange of pleasantries, I bid P goodbye.
We didn't exchange numbers. He did promise to check out my stories. He remembered the last one I had filed as an intern. 'About kids who were mathematical wizards', I was astonished at his memory.
P is working these days, hoping to build life afresh.
I wanted to unblock him and reach out again....but this time I couldn't track him in the banal world of social media.
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