Here's the edited chapter three of That Touch because so many of you suggested it----

I went to the living room. I am a lazy couch potato, unlike most of the other doctors, who are always working.

My teenage life was very non-social. I used to boycott parties, so that I could study. In eleventh grade, I took up sciences stream, which involved extreme hard work. I remember how dreamily I used to hear the humanities and commerce students hoot around the corridors, enjoying it to the fullest. Life, of course.

I on the other hand, wasted my teen years. They are now earning too, and so am I. What was the point of not enjoying those days? None. I simply wasted it, and now I-- wait. No, I don't regret it.

Because then it was not so bad after all. My parents wanted my good, didn't they? I had fun in the chemistry lab, making small scale blasts that the other students missed. I had the kind of fun that the others didn't even get. I read plenty of novels, while others didn't even get the point of reading.

I decided to turn on the television. Everything had been set up by mom and dad before I shifted here, so that I wouldn't die of work. Basically, this would make my work easier, and I wouldn't have to break my back.

I found the remote on the tea table. I reached for it.

It shifted.

I reached for it again. It moved away, as if my hand and it were magnets of the same polarity.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. Maybe I really require rest. This time I reached for it very carefully, approaching it very slowly. It came into my grasp normally- the way a remote comes into one's hand.

I cleared my head of stupid thoughts and surfed through the channels. There was no dish antenna here, (added to my to-do list) and hence for now I had to satisfy myself with the cable channels, which meant no Bollywood or Hollywood movies or songs. That's all I watched on tv normally. Now I guess I would have to look for something new.

I reached a channel where a Muslim religious speaker was talking. I recognised him to be Dr. Aabir Naik. I was about to change when he said--
"The dark is around you, but Allah is always there."

It wasn't supposed to affect me the way it did. The way he looked into the camera, it was as if he were scanning through my soul. His words began to echo inside my head.

The dark is around you, but Allah is always there.

The dark is around you, but Allah is always there.

And then suddenly a new series of whispers began to ring my ears. A hasty, worried one--

His Purpose is to love you.

"What?" I cried, helpless.

His Purpose is to love you.

His Purpose is to love you.

His Purpose is to love you.

My head began spinning, and throbbing horribly. The voices and whispers increased in amplitude with each repetition, and it began hurting my ear drums. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, as the voices began to surround me.

His Purpose is to love you.

His Purpose is to love you.

His Purpose is to love you.

His Purpose is to love you.

"Stop it!" I cried out loud.

It continued.

His Purpose is to love you.

His Purpose is to love you.

"What do you mean?" I cried out.

It didn't stop.

"STOP IT!" I yelled this time.

It stopped. I looked around to make sure. Sure of what? Even I didn't have a clue.

I switched off the television. Enough of stupid stuff. Let me think about work, like unpacking the kitchen stuff today at least so that I'm able to make dinner for myself. So I will have to bring the cardboard box named 'kitchen' downstairs and start working now, if I want to eat and sleep soon.