Black and White

“It has become impossible to live with you, Nalini. Either you get help or get out…” A pause followed. “Out of my life…” Another pause, a very short one. “Forever”, he added as an afterthought.

A curious eavesdropper, I am sure there is at least one, would think that he is struggling with his words and choking with emotion. However, I am not fooled. I know the ulterior reason why I am asked to get out of his life. But I am determined to put up a fight. I don’t want to lose him, for I love him very much. Though not a feminist, I believe that a man should not dictate a woman and order her on what or what not to do. So, who does he think himself to be, to command me out of his life?

I decide to prod him a little and to let him bask in the contentment of controlling me. So, I inquire, “All right, tell me what am I supposed to do?” He assumes a benign countenance and says, “Let us visit Dr. Benegal. He is the leading authority in treating personality disorders. If you dislike him or his treatment, I will never ask you again.”

I am flabbergasted. I gape at him, open mouthed, quite forgetting that I am expected to give an answer. I take a sip of the iced tea and draw a deep breath. Because, I know that my response is going to be long and bitter. But he surely deserves it, for his impudence.

“How… how dare you? You are bringing this up again and again. We already had been through this, earlier. You had pestered me to see a doctor a couple of months ago and I did. Did that help? One tiny wee bit?”

I pause for breath. Vikas knows that I am not yet finished, so he does not interrupt.

I continue, “What did the previous doctor say after looking at all those innumerable reports? Do you remember what he had said? I imagine, not. To quote him verbatim, we are very fortunate that Nalini is not yet really unwell. So we can definitely hope for her to become as normal as anyone else. Can’t you see how preposterous that is? On one hand, he said that I am not unwell. Which obviously means that I am well. On the other hand he said that he will make me well. This is…”

Vikas does not give me the chance to complete my tirade, I am sure he sees this as one. He interrupts, “He had also said that reports don’t usually capture the abnormalities of personality disorders till it is almost very late. And, most of those tests were pretty basic stuff like electro cardiograms, brain scans and so on. Besides, Dr. Rao is hardly a mind doctor. You had insisted on going to him because you knew him from a long time and were comfortable with him.” Vikas changes his tone to an almost imploring one, for the benefit of others no doubt. “Please Nalini. Let us go to Dr. Benegal. For just this one time. For old times’ sake.

That brings in a flood of memories and I am overwhelmed for quite some time. Ah! Good old days.

Curled up in the bed together, we used to envision a world devoid of everything except him and me. That was our absolute fantasy. We even used to call ourselves Adam and Eve. Yes, it might seem childish, even silly now, but what the heck? We were young and more importantly, Vikas used to love me. I cannot help but grimace at the use of the past tense.

“I have had a talk with Dr. Benegal yesterday.”

My reverie is broken and I again stare at him.

“Dr. Benegal says that the treatment should be psychotherapeutic. In addition to this, tricyclic antidepressants or mono amine oxidase inhibitors can also be administered.” Vikas clearly has some problems pronouncing those unpronounceable words.

In normal circumstances, I would have laughed. But this is not funny. Vikas pauses as if giving me a moment to let this sink in. He continues, “Dr. Benegal says that desensitization techniques can also be helpful. He…”

“Would you mind explaining in plain English what all that gibber means? Or do you think that I am too stupid to understand it? I have every right to know what you and Dr. Benegal, whoever it is, are planning for me. Just so that you know, I don’t have an iota of faith in your doctor. Most of them are quacks. In fact, larger the reputation of a doctor is, the more the chances of him being a quack are. I am sure that both of you are plotting against me to send me to some asylum permanently.”

Vikas calmly takes out a piece of paper from his pocket and starts to read.

“In psychotherapy, the focus is on feelings rather than thoughts and would emphasize on the clarification of the defenses of isolation of affect and displacement of hostility.”

He looks up from the paper to see if I can make out something of what he has read. I try to keep my face as impassive as possible.

He continues, “In desensitization, a hierarchy of increasingly anxiety provoking stimuli is constructed and the subject is systematically exposed to these stimuli step by step. This helps in…”

I have had enough of this. I burst out, “What all you are doing here is to provoke me to the highest levels of irritation compelling me to react. You then call me mentally sick and give a fancy name of a personality disorder. Do you think it is fair?”

Vikas throws up his hands in frustration. I squint my eyes a little and say, “This has got something to do with Swati, hasn’t it? I am sure she is in this plot too. Don’t tell me I am wrong. Because I know I am not.”

Vikas looks defeated. “Swati is just a friend, Nalini,” his voice rises with every word. “I have already said that many times. And it is the end of it”

“No Vikas, it is not the end of it.” My voice rises as well. “Have you ever seen me interact with men, except on business? Do my male colleagues call me when I am not in office? Have I hugged any one of them, anytime?”

“I have already explained that, Nalini”, Vikas says in that irritating tone of his, as if explaining things to a four year old. “Swati had some problems at her home with her husband and her mother in law. The other day, she was sharing her woes and I was just trying to comfort her. That’s all. You have misunderstood us.”

“Yeah? Is that how you put it?” I shoot back. “You must understand that a murder is a crime in whatever circumstances you had committed it and you are always punishable in a court of law. Do you have to hug and comfort her, even if whatever you are saying is correct? Don’t you have any morals at all? Can’t you distinguish the right from the wrong?”

Vikas looks hurt and he does not make an effort to look at me. He focuses on his napkin instead and says, “You have become very rigid and stubborn. It is like you have become entrenched in your own beliefs of what is right and what is wrong. Worse, you demand others to conform to your way of doing things. You always place this so called ideology and correctness before love and your continuous feedback is beginning to get on to my nerves. “

He pauses to let me give a chance to say something. I don’t. He continues.

“Why do you have that overwhelming urge to be in control of the environment, Nalini? Can’t you just let things as they are, at least one time? Can’t you behave as the other people do, just for once? Why do you always view the world through clearly defined black and white realms? Why do you…”

I raise my voice to cut him midway. “I cannot have this conversation anymore.” I say with the tone of finality. “I am your wife and I will not get out of your life just because you say it. Neither will I consult a doctor just because you think I have a personality disorder. Don’t forget that if not for me, you would have been bankrupt years ago.”

Vikas smiles as if he has heard some silly joke. “Cutting down all the expenses, some essential ones too and hoarding away money is hardly called as being prudent. If I have not known you, I would have thought that you are a miser. I am sick of those endless arguments whenever we have to spend some money. In fact, every single decision that you have to take involves hours of brooding and debates. Accept the fact that continuously making correct choices in life is practically impossible. And you need not be obsessed with all those tiny details and rules at every second of the day.”

He pauses but continues almost immediately as if he has suddenly remembered something.

“Worse is when you keep on visiting the past and ruminating over every single decision and activity. It almost seems that you are living more in the past than in the present. You have become very volatile with violent mood swings. I can never predict how you might interpret each of my words. You always seem to misunderstand even small jokes and harmless sarcasm for insults and political incorrectness. After that, there is no saying on how you might react. The expression of anger always seems to come out naturally and in excess.”

I am past caring and in rage now. Why would I not be? If you had to face this from your spouse, will you not be? I throw my napkin on the table and scream at him to shut up.

He looks towards the skies as if trying to invoke the wrath of Gods on me and then at me, in my eye. “I repeat, Nalini. It has become impossible to live with you. Either you get help or get out.”

He draws back his chair and storms out, leaving me stranded.

I cry.

Mein Kempf (My Struggle) - Part 2

There came a sudden Sunday, which gave me another turn in my life. No, it is not for the better, it is for worse. The books are sold to a vendor because Mr. Rao suddenly found that they are useless. A rich couple adopted Shruti. Suman is transferred to an asylum. In just a single day, I find myself even lonelier and life is drearier. There is nothing for me to do, the whole day. Except for the short learning time, when we are supposed to learn the basic science and maths, I spend countless hours sitting by the window, doing nothing, just watching people on the road.


Now, my favorite time is in the mornings and the evenings. There is a school just opposite to our orphanage and in the morning, the entire place is humming and buzzing around with the laughter and chatter of children. How much I long to go to such a regular school. But I never dare to ask Mr. Rao about it. I knew he will sneer about it and then the matter will lead to nowhere.


How sweet it looks when all the children are being escorted by their parents to the school. The fathers and mothers give a gentle kiss to the children before letting them go into the school. In the evenings, the children run into the open arms of their parents who then shower them with kisses. The child then starts recounting its day in the school.


Seeing all this again and again daily, longed me to get parents at any cost. I really have no idea what to do. It was the orphanage’s policy not to keep children once they become ten years old. They are to be shifted to another bigger orphanage which is reputed to be worse than the present one. Till date, nobody has ever been shifted to that place from our one as everybody has been adopted before the age of ten. I, however, posed a threat to this rule and tradition. Because of my crutches, obviously, I was unable to attract parents to take me home. Mr. Rao has already started mocking fun at me calling me record breaking scion as my tenth birthday is fast approaching, just a few weeks later.


There are only a few more precious Sundays left out for me and I try to make the most of them. I try with all my will and might to get someone to take me home. I appear to be quite friendly to them. I want people to say – “A little crippled, so what? Nobody is perfect in this world. Let us take him.” But never did I hear this from anybody. Hope remained hope, moving distant until I began to realize for the first time that perhaps I was hoping for the impossible.


It is the last Sunday before my tenth birthday. I will be shifted to the bigger orphanage in less than a week, in case I don’t find my home today. I become desperate, anxious and tense all at the same time. How can I do something, which I have failed to do all these long years? How do I make the parents realize that there is nothing seriously wrong with the physically handicapped children? How do I make them perceive that a little boldness and a small sacrifice on their part will help give a new life to a young soul?


Sunday evening and I am at absolute peace and bliss. Raju does not come to torment me. Why, you may ask? Like most other stories, does my story also have a happy ending? Perhaps I have got a kindhearted couple who have promised me to get rid of my woes. My dear readers, this is not just a story. It is a life, the life of a poor and wretched boy who is for real and is in flesh.


As I stand on my crutches in the queue waiting for the parents to some and inspect us, I realize it is a sort of ‘do or die’ situation. There are five or six couples today. None of them ventured to look at my tearful face once they saw crutches at my feet. I don’t know what came over me but when the last couple passes by, I just lunge forward and clasp their feet. I shout at the top of my voice.


Sir, please. Madam, please. Kindly take me home with you. It is not a son you are getting. You may look at me as your servant. You need not spend a single pie on my education or leg. I promise I won’t be a burden to you. I will do all the chores of your house.


There are tears in my eyes and this time, I make no effort to wipe them off. I want to show them for the first time in my life. I want to show them how desperately earnest I am. I keep on pleading until the rough hand of Mr. Rao is on me. He shoves me away to a corner and apologizes to the couple. The ‘kind hearted’ people forgive me and move on.


So this Sunday is also not much different from all the other Sundays of my life. But why did not Raju come in the evening to torment me? The answer is, he has been ‘selected’ by the same couple with whom I had pleaded and taken home with them. I frankly do not know how to react now. To be happy that at least he got into a home or to be sad that even the hot-headed Raju had succeeded where I have failed? I have mixed feelings and I frankly don’t know. Try how much I may, I find it difficult to be selflessly happy.


I have seen hundreds of Sundays and thousands of couples in my life. Is there not a single kind soul in the world? Is there nobody to help a wretched boy? Is there no love or humanity? Perhaps the civilization is transiting backward and not forward, as it ought to.


When you read this, perhaps, I am not to be found in the orphanage. There won’t be any frantic searches for me. I have decided long ago, come no matter what may, I will not go to the bigger orphanage. As far as I remember my struggle started here and should end here. May the world not see a similar story in ages to come. May my story be the last of its kind… last of its wretched kind.


THE END