Fury unfiltered: Outbursts, egos, and collateral damage

Raju Korti
When anger becomes a habit and not an emotion, it turns people into time-bombs. You can try to stay calm but beware the blast radius. The murder in Mumbai's suburban train and a Bengaluru couple’s deadly road rage, triggered by a minor brush with a delivery agent not long time back, -- not to speak of many such incidents -- has me dissecting the anatomy of fury.

If there’s one tribe, I go out of my way to avoid, it is the human volcanoes. The rage-prone, short-fused, loudmouths who erupt at the faintest provocation. You can sense them before they strike: stiff shoulders, restless limbs, darting eyes, and a snarl waiting to detonate. They rage at colleagues, terrorise subordinates, bully family, and pick fights with neighbours. What ignites them? Sometimes nothing at all. It is as if fury is their fuel, their fallback, their way of being. And you, the unlucky bystander, are expected to dodge the shrapnel of their barbed words and clenched fists. The Malad train stabbing fits this pattern disturbingly well, an eruption born out of a moment that demanded nothing more than patience.

(Pic representational)

Anger is a tricky emotion. At its mildest, it is a frown. At its worst, it’s a hurricane that knocks down relationships, jobs, and reputations. Biologically, it is a rush. Adrenaline surges, blood pressure spikes, heart races, fists clench. But when that rage is constant, chronic, and unchecked, it becomes corrosive. I am no shrink, but I have seen enough to know that most angry people aren’t really angry at you. They are wrestling their own demons: unhealed wounds, control issues, deep-seated insecurities. Add to this job frustration, financial insecurity, collapsing careers, failed relationships, loneliness, social comparison, unfulfilled ambition, substance abuse, and the quiet shame of perceived failure in life. The pent-up frustration often finds release not in words, but in fury, sometimes spilling into crimes like the one on that railway platform.

I used to think age mellows people, makes them less reactive and more reflective. I was wrong. Some grow old without ever growing up. I have had my share of angry episodes too. Who hasn’t? But over time, I have learned that letting fury speak for you is a one-way ticket to regret. One vicious outburst can wipe out years of goodwill. Sure, you may apologise later, but trust once broken doesn’t glue back easily. The damage is often irreparable. Sometimes, the only choice is to walk away. Let them stew in their own bile. They don’t deserve front-row seats in your life. Sadly, the young lecturer in Malad never got that choice.

What angers us may be circumstantial, but how we respond is deeply personal. You can’t always escape the triggers. Maybe it’s a toxic boss, a manipulative partner, or just the unbearable traffic. Or a crowded train, or a congested road, like in Bengaluru where a couple’s road rage ended in murder after a minor altercation. But you can choose to disarm your reaction. Meditation helps. So does physical activity. Even a ten-second pause before you lash out can save the moment. And let’s not pretend that bottled-up anger is any nobler. It ferments into bitterness and blindsides you at the worst time. Vent it, but wisely. Scream into a pillow if you must, not at a person.

What fascinates me is the psychology behind chronic anger. It often stems from a fragile ego, from people who believe the world owes them, who see disagreement as threat and discomfort as injustice. They externalise everything. Blame others, control environments, resist introspection. They see patience as weakness and ambiguity as failure. I call them the emotionally entitled. And anger is their armour. Problem is, no one wants to hug a cactus.

In the end, managing anger is less about self-help and more about self-respect. It's about recognising that no matter the trigger, you are accountable for the impact. Yes, anger is human. But left unbridled, it hijacks your dignity, relationships, and peace of mind. Perhaps it is time anger management stopped being an afterthought and became part of everyday learning, taught at homes, reinforced in educational institutions, acknowledged at workplaces, and addressed in public spaces where pressures collide. So, control anger before it controls you. Easier said than done, but try we must. And the counsellor in me comes to the fore as moderator. No small mercy that.