Inside

Like a memory that always

Comes with a photograph,

Fleeting as snow or

Enough to drown in a sea of nostalgia,

You're a probability,

Pregnant with erratic senses

That oscillate between 

Realms of pointlessness

And worth.

No, I don't want to know

If the climax of the story

Lies in gray or purple.

Yes,I want to know

If the climax of the story

Lies in gray or purple.

The spider in my brain

Keeps secrets from me.

I try and train the eight legs.

But there's always one 

That slips out when I hold down the other seven.

I split into two halves constantly,

While the spider cackles and scurries around.

A child and an undertaker

Cross paths.

When I come to the surface gasping for breath

Senses will fade, maybe you will too.

Redemption - Part IV

I got a call at six a.m. the next morning from the police asking me to come down to the hospital. I hurriedly got ready and rushed out of my apartment. When I reached the hospital, I found Mr. Conrad sitting outside, head in his hands, murmuring to himself, flanked by two burly policemen. I went closer.

“Ma’am what business do you have here?” one of the policemen asked.

“I work here” I said hoarsely. “Wat happened? What’s wrong with Mr. Conrad?”

By now I could hear what he was murmuring to himself. “It can’t be, how is it possible? It can’t be, it can’t be”, he kept on saying.

Without waiting for an answer, I went into the building to the common area and found a small crowd towards Sam’s room. I hurried over to find all sorts of activity going on inside the room. Policemen shouting instructions, one policeman photographing the room, one rifling through Sam’s closet.  Sam was in his wheelchair, head slumped over the table, his mouth agape, the flicker gone from his brown eyes with its green flecks. I gasped.

“How did this happen?” I finally managed to whisper to the policeman in the room.

“Well ma’am we are not sure yet, the autopsy will confirm but it looks like his body had some kind of a reaction to one of these medicines”, he said pointing at the array of drugs kept on the table.

“And we found him writing in this journal, any idea about it?” handing me his diary.

I looked at the last few pages. “Sam you can do it, Sam you can do it, Sam you can do it” was all that was scrawled in Sam’s lazy cursive. Except the last page where he had been writing last night.

“I finally did it, I asked her out in some way I guess. It’s been ages since I felt this giddy and stupid. I think the muscles around my mouth are still frozen like hers were. She became awkward too. That’s a good sign…” 

The writing seemed to have paused a few minutes.

“That Mr. Conrad came in to ask if I had taken the new medicine. That guy is really creepy sometimes. I told him Janice had left it on the table for me. He asked me to take two of them instead of one and wouldn’t leave until I had taken them, strange little man. I just wanted him to leave so I took the medicines and smiled at him. He left and asked me to sleep soon, like that’s happening tonight after what I said to Jan….” 

and then the writing turned into crazy lines all over the page with an ink blot in the middle of the page. There were a few lines scrawled in shaky handwriting at the bottom.

“I had one of my visions again. This time it was different. I saw my family and they spoke to me even this time. My mom talked to me about the night they died. She said they were happy now. She said they could see I was happy too. I told them I couldn't agree more. 

And the hazy misshapen figure took shape today. I stared-it wasn’t Janice like I had joked earlier tonight. It was some other woman I didn’t know. My father spoke to me. “Sam, this is Agatha”. It was then that I recognized her from the portrait that hung on the hospital common room wall. 

She said to me, ”I am sorry Sam, but after my death my husband never meant to let any of those patients get better again. It was his way of getting revenge of some sort and finding solace for my early death, he blamed the world and so, he has been drugging the patients to make them suffer all this while. Nobody could suspect him and who would believe a bunch of mentally challenged people? Tell Janice, she will believe you."

Mr. Conrad’s new medicine seems to be doing something strange to me, I am cold. But I don’t care, I still can’t believe it, I talked to them Janice. This is the best night of my life. I asked you out and I met my family."

Redemption - Part III

Sam had started to smile, a flicker returned to his eyes, he moved about the common room talking to other patients and his screaming almost disappeared from the time I had joined. Physically, his health seemed to be getting better too. He would smile at me and talk to me about his visions of his family, his life and how he couldn’t wait to leave the facility and be out in the world again. I must say, he was very charming and didn’t seem like a patient at a mental facility at all. He told me about the hazy figure in the distance in his visions and how close he was trying to understand who it was. It all seemed such normal behavior and conversation, there didn’t seem to be the slightest need for him being in the facility. 

Within two weeks of my joining the hospital, Mr. Conrad asked me to meet me in his office and congratulated me on my work. “I really didn’t do anything, it was all him” I said and smiled. He went on to tell me that if things went well, within two more weeks, Sam could be moved to another home where hospital-like conditions were not enforced but was still a place for the mentally disturbed  to be put up. 

“It’s a wonderful idea Mr. Conrad, Sam would be much more at ease if that actually works out”, I said. 

“Well, that’s what we are hoping for Miss Barton”, he said and stood up. 

“And oh yes, before I forget, the main reason I had called you here was to let you know of a new drug the research wing has come up with. They are currently packaging it for some of the patients. It took months to develop the correct formula and the tests were finally successful with the help of a new semi synthetic opiate compound, I won’t bore you with the details, but you can just pick up a batch for Sam from the research building before you go back. It’s a calming drug and it will also numb side effect pains of the other medicines he takes. Give him one every night for one week and we will see how he is reacting to it, okay?” 

“Okay Mr. Conrad, I’ll do that”, I said and left his office.

When I returned with the medicines, I told Sam about him possibly being moved out of the hospital. He looked a little dejected for a bit and then looked up and smiled,

”You know, I had another vision yesterday night when you were not here. The hazy figure was closer than ever before but was still misshapen, I still can’t figure out who it could be. I am one hundred percent sure these visions are from the future; my heart, soul, mind says that without even lingering about it so maybe my leaving this place could lead to some sort of closure on this, don’t you think?” “Well, that’s a marvelous way to look at the bright side of everything Sam, and now that you’re doing so much better, it could very well be!”, I said and smiled at him. 

Suddenly and almost mischievously, Sam said, “Or maybe after I leave from here, you and I could start something, you know, for all I know maybe you are that hazy figure in my visions”, grinning from ear to ear.  

He had brown eyes with flecks of green in them and with the flicker that had returned to them, they seemed to be alive entities of their own. My thoughts returned to Mr. Conrad’s eyes for a second- they seemed so black and still compared to Sam’s. I shook myself out of the trail of thoughts about people’s eyes.

“Well, I shall give it a thought Sam.” The muscles around my mouth seemed to have gotten stuck in the smile. I took a deep breath and said “Anyway, Mr. Conrad has sent a new medicine that will calm you better at night. I’ll put them on the table before I go.”

“Okay, thanks Janice”, Sam smiled. “I’ll write for some time in my journal before I sleep, leave the light on, okay? Goodnight”

“Goodnight Sam”.

Read Redemption Part - IV

Redemption - Part II

Out of these two patients under my care, there was a young Indian man named Sam who was assigned to me. I presume he had had a more Indian name like Shyam which perhaps got changed along the way so that the western world could refer to him with more ease. Or maybe he had been Sam all his life, there was no way to know. Some people have the worst of luck throughout their lives and this man was a living example of that.  

Sam was born and brought up in the USA itself. When he was six years old, he lost his parents and his little brother in a fire. He had been out camping with the school boy scouts team when the incident occurred. His parents and his little brother had gone to sleep comfortably in their beds unaware of the fate that would befall them that night. The fire started from one of the incense sticks his mother used for her daily ‘puja’, the Hindi word for the rituals performed towards God by Hindus. A streak of wind sneaked in from somewhere and toppled the little stick towards a nearby curtain which started smoking and eventually a fire broke out on the ground floor. By the time the Guptas (their surname was Gupta) were aware it was too late. Forensics confirmed death of all three members by asphyxiation from smoke inhalation. Sam was picked up from the camp in the dark hours of the next morning by a police officer who explained to him what had happened as best as he could.

Child Services came into the scene and Sam went through several homes on account of his ever increasing erratic and troubling behavior. Finally he was put in an orphanage where he picked fights every other day, ran away several times and even had an accident. This was another turning moment in his life. He had stolen the dean’s car and crashed it on the interstate. The accident left him paralyzed waist down. All other motor functions were normal waist up but it didn’t matter, it was as if the life had gone out of him after the accident, leaving an empty shell of skin, muscle and bone behind. Sam had been unhappy his entire life, and life never seemed to hold back on giving more reasons to be so.

The only activity Sam now did was scream out at times and then start to sob. He screamed that he had visions of the future. He would scream and then start talking in illegible sentences, words all disordered, making wild gestures and then as suddenly as he had started, he would stop, start to sob and then eventually quieten down. From what was gathered, the vision similar every time - he could see his mother, father and his little brother, but they were not in the house or anyplace he remembered being with them. The part with his family always seemed constant but the place he saw them kept on changing- sometimes it was in the clouds, sometimes at the local fair or sometimes at their own old backyard. He also screamed about another misshapen hazy figure in his visions, standing at a distance. Mr. Conrad took deep interest in trying to learn about the man’s visions. He always had a research intern around Sam, taking notes of his behavior and what he talked about. The other nurses claimed that the research wing had even secretly done experiments to decipher what was going on in his mind. Of course, they didn’t have proof to back up their story. But these erratic visions kept repeating themselves over and over every day; that is, until the day I came in to work. All the other nurses had the same story to tell- Sam had been the empty human shell going through the cycles of everyday mental hospital life with his erratic visions and screaming until the day I had arrived. 

Read Redemption - Part III

Redemption - Part I

It’s no surprise that the people I work with are the most peculiar of the lot. Some talk to invisible people, some with themselves, some keep looking at walls or objects without blinking once, some of them have trouble remembering things etc. They are good people, none of them have the slightest streak of menace about them, but they are and can never be part of society because their behavior doesn’t conform to what society deems acceptable.

I work at the Agatha Psychiatric Treatment Facility as a nurse. The asylum is privately funded and also has a research wing for mental illnesses. It was started by a certain Mr. Conrad who moved to the USA from Germany after his wife, Agatha, passed away from Rett’s Syndrome, a rare neurological disorder for which there is no cure till this day. The symptoms were comparable to autism, hence, treatment was meted out for the same. Unfortunately, the prognosis for her condition wasn’t accurate and she passed away at the age of thirty eight. Mr. Conrad was forty two years old when the doctors gave him the news. He had no other family or relatives (not close ones anyway) in Hanover where he and Mrs. Conrad had lived since the day they had gotten married. He was devastated by her early death and couldn’t stay in the town nor in the country and subsequently moved to Kansas City in the United States of America.

Within two years of moving to the new country, with the help of the German community in the nearby town of Hermann, he started the Agatha Psychiatric Treatment Facility. The facility soon gained recognition for its work in the research wing in addition to the resources offered to the asylum patients. The number of patrons and sponsors increased and the facility flourished over the years. They even added a new block for juvenile patients at the back of the original building. Mr. Conrad took an avid interest in keeping up with everything- from the state of the buildings, supplies for patients to the research being carried out. We would often see him going around the facility, always surrounded by people from different teams, listening to them, talking to them about various issues.

Agatha Psychiatric Treatment Facility was very systematic (I daresay the German methodical precision was at play here!) in terms of its hours and tasks assigned to its employees. We worked in twelve hour shifts every two days. Each nurse was assigned to five patients. With my induction, we were now a team of thirteen nurses. Any new patient brought in was assigned as an extra to one nurse as a temporary solution till a new nurse came in. We had sixty two patients at the facility. I had just two patients under my care for now. When they had been brought in, two out of the twelve nurses had one extra patient each to take care of. Once I joined, they had been assigned under my care. As per the rules, the next three patients to be brought in would be put under my care. That’s how the world of nursing worked here at the facility. Since everything was regulated, our professional and personal life was much regulated too. It struck a perfect balance in my own life somehow.

Read Redemption - Part II

It's Time

I noticed when she tiptoed into room,
Careful not to wake me up.
She had her hands full,
Two children, work and a husband to take care of.
I wasn't asleep,
She didn't notice my breathing was uneven.
I watched her go into the kitchen and eat a little.
Her left hand seemed itchy,
I knew the itching would start today.

Hence there was blueberry cheesecake in the fridge.
The bathroom was cleaned and the tabletops dusted.
The clothes washed and set out for the next day.
She loved the fact that whenever she checked her phone,
A text saying "I love you" waited for her.
Three personal words interspersed between
the millions of corporate words
she had to go through everyday.

At the end of the day, her hair still smelled like the start of it,
Little nooks and crannies on her body where my limbs fitted perfectly.
Changing into my t-shirts over sized for her,
She could fall asleep almost anywhere when tired.
I snuggled in beside her if there was room for me.
Or I would carry her to the bed.
We always woke up with our backs to each other.
She had a habit of finishing my cigarette after sex.

She didn't make the connection between
Her itchy left hand and the cheesecake.
Probably just assumed I was in a good mood;
I loved going that extra mile
And making sure she never knew I did.
Her smile said it all.
There was always her favourite music,
Books and food I blended in with mine.
I had no complaints about a gorgeous woman
hugging me and kissing me anytime.

I knew the itching would start today
So an extra mile had been added to the
daily extra mile.
We had seen a doctor about it months back.
He concluded it was some weird connection with her time of the month.

A memory from a trip to Kerala

I was molested once. It might not be the correct word to use here but I have no other words to relate the incident to.
It hasn't affected me in anyway in my life whatsoever and I had even forgotten that it ever happened.
Some days back, I was watching some movie which suddenly reminded me of the incident.
And I recall this book I read a few months back by Arundhati Roy called The God Of Small Things.
I wonder why that book didn't bring this memory back.
The book had an incident with one of the children Estha being molested by the "Orangedrink Lemondrink Man" at a movie theater when he steps out alone while on a trip with his family to watch "The Sound Of Music".
This particular section in the book should have brought back the memory but didn't quite stir the cerebral cortex. 

In a land far far away from the country I call home, half way around the world, trying to make it alone and watching some movie( I can't recall the name of ), the memory suddenly flashed in front of my eyes. The movie submerged into a colored daze and a handful of arbitrary noises while the memory floated by in front of my eyes after all these years. Either the movie stirred it somehow or it was just making space for new memories to settle in and I caught it unawares during its momentary dislodgement.

It happened in Kerala, God's Own Country.
(Hence I wonder more why The God Of Small Things wasn't able to stir it!)
I was in the seventh grade and on a typical loud Bengali vacation with my family and relatives and cousins.
We had a Tata Sumo booked for the trip. I don't remember much of my younger life, my memory is not that strong. So I don't quite remember what tourist attraction spots I visited, how the roads were, how the hotels we stayed in looked. I remember vendors selling tapioca chips, trying to eat chicken biryani with cashewnut, raisins, pineapples and ultimately giving up on the (very very)sweet rice and just having the chicken,a boat ride on the backwaters(more of black waters,we joked!), a visit to Munnar, Trivandrum but not many details about these visits.

All family trips like this one was all fun and frolic for us kids. Nothing to worry about, no homework to do, no tuitions to go to,eat, sleep, play, horse around-our glory days. 
What could possibly be wrong if there was no homework to do nor school to go to?

I don't even remember where it happened. We must have been on our way somewhere and had stopped for lunch.When we finished eating, all of us came out of the hotel. The hotel was on a meandering road on the hills and the car was kept just around a bend on the road a little way from the hotel and hence, just out of sight. Everyone had leisurely started back towards the car in groups of two or three. I was the last to finish lunch and went to wash my hands. My father was waiting for me. As soon as I finished washing my hands, we started towards the car; him walking a few paces ahead and me trudging along behind him. 

I strolled along the road, with a satisfied belly, towards the bend and the car just around it. There were a few other local people walking along the road too but as with roads on hills, it was mostly deserted. A tall dark man with a thick mustache in a red shirt  and black trousers, wearing glasses rounded the bend and came walking towards our direction on the same road. As he rounded the bend towards us, he crossed my father who disappeared around the bend. I trudged along. As the man reached me,  he suddenly reached out and grabbed my private parts with one hand and smacked my behind with the other, turning me around. He held on to my private parts for a few seconds before letting go and then gestured me rudely to get on my way with that "tch tch" noise a lot of people make in parts of India (when gesturing).
It all happened so fast I didn't realize what happened fully until I was back in the car. I just ran back to the car and remember asking for a "Frooti" to drink. It was when the car had started and we were again on our way that it all sunk in and of course, it was too late to do anything about it. I debated whether I should tell anyone about. I was the only brother-all my cousins and siblings are sisters so it seemed weird to talk about this in front of them. Someone cracked a joke and everyone laughed. The moment seemed to have passed. I decided not to tell anyone about it. There was no undoing it anyway. 

Right from childhood, I had been quite the introvert - less friends, less picnics, more of keeping to myself, studying, doing my homework and most importantly, not really talking to anyone much. The rebound of not talking to people much was that people didn't talk much to me-I seemed okay to everyone, because I did everything a normal and well-behaved child was supposed to do-eat,sleep, do homework, pack my bags for school next day-all on time apparently. And in the seventh grade, no one had questions about my personal life because I was too young to have one. So it was assumed I was okay. And I was okay. I was okay.

So I never told anyone that day, the next day or ever! I thought about the incident for a few days over the vacation and kept it to myself. It did not seem to be as important as having fun. It distracted me for a few seconds each day and I guess it bothered me for a few days. But with time, the incident became less important and the memory of it snuggled back into the deep recesses of the brain and remained lost till a few days back. 

Memories now will always be what you remember of them. The original whole memory with the details of the scenery, the particular feelings I had that day and the next few days, how it affected me, how it distracted me is mostly gone. I remember a gist of these details now and that's how each memory survives I guess; the brain edits it out the unimportant details from a memory and leaves you a link to relate to forever. You can make your way back to the details if you really think hard.

As stated before, the incident has had no effect on my life at all. I work my day job, I blog, I write poetry, I work out, I play instruments and compose music, I travel and get to do a lot of things, all of which could make many people jealous! I just did not have words for what happened back then. Now I do. And so when this memory popped up, I wrote it down.
What could possibly be wrong if there was no homework to do nor school to go to?

P.S. If I was Deadpool and told this story to my really hot girlfriend, I bet she would have said, " So you had a family huh?"

P.P.S. I wish I was Deadpool! 

   

'You don't remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened. -John Green'