11 August 2011
Today was another difficult day, after a long time. By a long time I mean two weeks since the medicine has been changed again. Yesterday Dadoo was so calm. I can’t say happy but I can’t even say that he was restless. Things were fine but today in the morning everything went haywire.
Just as I took a bath he woke up. There was so much misery, helplessness, insecurity and fear on his face. ‘How can you go? Don’t go? What will happen to me? I don’t know anything about myself, my mind does not work. I don’t remember anything, I have so many problems. I don’t know where my papers are. The whole night I did so much of work,’ he poured out. He has started hallucinating, he dreams but he thinks they are real.
‘I sorted out everything but now in the morning there is nothing. What should I do? My name is Jagdev Verma, isn’t it?’ and he started sobbing. There was so much of agony on this beloved face. I sat down taking his hand in mine and murmuring assurances, ‘Dadoo, there is no problem.’
He kept crying, ‘You don’t understand, I am no more a man now. What will happen? Who will solve all my problems?
‘There is no problem,’ I assured him.
Mamma said, ‘Why are you behaving like this?’ and then instantly realized he was so helpless; he just did not know. Tears brimmed in her eyes when he said, ‘Can I go with you to Shimla?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘No,’ Mamma said. I fiercely looked at Mamma. He was still weeping and then I asked, ‘Why do you want to go to Shimla, Dadoo?’
Between sobs he said, ‘I have to go for a check-up, to a doctor. I want to show myself, my mind is not working, my body is not well.’
‘Fine,’ I said taking a long breath to cool my mind, ‘We will fix an appointment.’
He stopped crying instantly and looked up at me with a ray of hope in his eyes, ‘Is he a good doctor?’
‘Yes, a very good doctor.’
‘He checks brain?’
I nodded.
‘Will he give me a certificate?’
‘A certificate?’ I asked surprised.
‘Yes, I need a certificate that my brain is not working. Nothing is in my hands, I am no more a normal person.’
‘But Dadoo—’
‘—Then I can use that certificate when they come to catch me.’
‘Who will come to catch you, Dadoo?’ I am perplexed.
‘The ones who will take away my money and also the other ones,’ he mumbled.
I looked at Rohit enquiringly who had joined us. He too was confused I could sense.
‘It is not a fake certificate,’ Dadoo persists, ‘My brain is really not working.
I nod, ‘Okay.’
He is a little relieved but pain throbbed in my whole being. He must be feeling so very helpless to plan about such a certificate: An open letter declaring that he is not well and cannot do anything, so whatever goes wrong he or his family should not be punished whether monetarily or otherwise.
What a paradigm shift! Till now he was always very reluctant to share what was going on in his mind with anyone else except his family. He pretended to be normal so that people didn’t laugh at him or realize that he is losing his mind but today he is openly saying he wants a certificate for that. Then he starts crying again, ‘Don’t go, don’t go,’ he mumbles, ‘Let Rohit go.’
I decide not to go and convey it to him. Mamma intervenes again, ‘She has to go, how can Rohit go alone?’
Dadoo is confused with tears running down his cheek. I hug him and say, ‘Dadoo, don’t worry, I am not going.’ And then a little later he mumbles, ‘No, you go. I am not in a good mood, it’s all out of my control.’
‘It is fine, Dadoo.’
‘Will you come in the evening?’
‘Yes.’ All lies again but just to reassure him. And as we move away two things strike me: One, he does not come down on the road to say bye as he always did earlier; and second in the last fortnight I had received very few phone calls from him. Both these thoughts lay heavy on my heart because it is another shift. When I reach home in Shimla I call him, thankfully he is calm.