In The Silence Of My Solitude - A Novel (Part 14)

                                                       
                                                      18. Isn’t it obvious?



I was just born, and was sleeping in my mother’s lap. She was singing a song. I was trying to find a world within her lap, which formed into a  shape of Uyyala, as if that’s how the world should be….a  world which provides you the solitude you required. The only visible things were my mothers eyes and the blue sky. How safe I was! How peaceful I was! Me alone in my mother’s lap. Yes, my mother was shielding me from everyone…the evil in the word, all the hurts in the world, all the pain in the world..all the anxieties in the world..

Then, she stopped singing.

I asked her, without opening my eyes . Don't stop, sing.

She started laughing.

Mother, why are you laughing?

Then, she started crying.

Mother, why are you crying?

I opened my eyes. I saw the beast’s tongue trying to touch me, and I screamed.
That woke me up from my dream which had turned into a night mare.

“You okay?” my dad shook me.
“What happened?”, I asked.



I noticed my dad’s face. It was pale, a paleness that could only come with shock.

“Dad, what happened?”, I asked again.
“Nothing happened. You fell down. That’s all”, he replied.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“How am I looking?”, he tried to change his expression.
“I don’t know”. I had no clue.

I noticed the date on the calendar. Already seven days had passed since my breakdown – since I saw that creature that night. I didn’t remember much of what happened during those 7 days.

I vaguely remembered scenes of me in a hospital, feeling comatose and sleepy, as if I was dreaming. After repeatedly pleading my Dad to tell me what happened, he finally revealed that I had a mental breakdown, one of those breakdowns trauma victims go thru after horrible accidents. He was forced to admit me in an hospital, and I had pretty much made a mess in there, alternating between being fearful, being confident as if nothing happened, and then sometimes becoming violent, trashing everything near my bed. I was talking to myself it-seems, sometimes shouting..I saw the devil..I saw the devil…

I pretty much slept for the next two days. On the third day, everything came back, all the memories, all the incidents that happened, the incidents that caused my mental breakdown.
I became extremely fearful, and then as if someone flicked a switch, I became very confident, and then it turned into pure unadulterated rage. But, this time, I observed it all -- My mind playing tricks on me, as it was trying to make sense of what had happened. It was alternating at furious rate, going through my states of mind as if to solve an unsolvable problem. It was permutating and combinating all the chemicals in my brain. But, the fact that I was able to observe it, meant only one thing – that I was coming back to my normal self --The self which tries to observe itself.

Once I started my observation of my own mind, I began to gain confidence slowly, but steadily.I tried to kill the thoughts of fear and rage, with thoughts of reason. I decided that I needed a philosophy, a collection of positive thoughts, remembrance of which would produces thoughts which would fight with thoughts which were not in my control. I sat down, wrote a big essay titled ‘Practical Philosophy’; even though while writing, I felt that I should have written it using bullet points, like those quotes of philosophers people always quote, but neither understand nor follow them.

After looking at my finished essay, I felt that the breakdown, indeed, helped me. I went through hell, and the hell rebooted my mind, well, almost, because noting can erase the memories. But, I found new strength and speed in my thinking. The buggy programs and harmful virus got deleted from the computer, from the sharp strike of an accident, most probably an accidental deletion of those programs. I should add though…I could have gone the other way too -- crossing the borders of sanity.

Armed with that ‘Practical Philosophy’; a philosophy which I believed almost like a religious faith, except giving myself a few percentage points of doubt; I began to understand, not feel, the incidents that happened.

It became obvious to me that my mother had gone through the same mental breakdown I went through. The difference was that, she crossed into that hellish world of insanity, most probably never to come back. It must have been pure luck that the exact opposite happened to me. But, would an insane man know that he is insane? May be not, but could an insane man observe his thoughts, and observe the reactions of the people around him? Most probably not…and my probability of being sane was higher than being insane. I came to the conclusion that I was sane, without answering the question, “What is insanity?” I was aware of that loophole.

I was also aware that I was living in the same house – the house in which an Ataka existed, and in which, most probably, a creature had lived and was living. I allowed a bit of doubt, because, it could all be my imagination, fueled by reading my mother’s diary. I decided to doubt, unless I find 100% proof. ‘A rational person always doubts’, I rationalized.

Few things left: one of which was my dad’s side of the story. I wanted to know everything from him, and I confronted him that afternoon.


“Dad, listen to me carefully”, I started,” I found mother’s diary..well..not exactly a diary....a pooja book converted into a diary”

“What are you talking about?” my Dad asked with genuine surprise.

“Let me finish. I read that diary. She wrote that she saw something in this house. I believe she went crazy after seeing it. Ten days back, I believe I saw the same thing”

“Show me the diary”, he demanded.

I produced the diary, and explained how she hid her words in the pooja hymns.
I noticed his face as he read the diary. Surprise written all over his face.

“Dad, what are you hiding? You took her to a psychiatrist..didn't you?”

“Yes”, he replied.

“Why don’t you tell me the whole story?” I asked.

“What’s there to tell? There is nothing to tell. She broke down mentally..because of some psychiatric disorder..that's all…she left us.Gone..just like that..whats there to tell?”

“What about IT – the beast?”

“As I told you ..She had gone crazy…she went mental..she had lost it”, he raised his voice.

“But, I too saw that creature”, I too raised my voice.

“Isn’t it obvious?”, Dad shouted.

“What obvious?” I shouted back.

His expression changed from anger to extreme sadness, and his eyes became moist.

“Dad, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“Listen to me. This is what happened. Let me tell you the whole story”…he took a deep breath.

He continued...” Your Mom, my wife, she was beautiful…oh my god..she was such a beautiful women. We lived happily for a while. But, as they say: Love, like happiness will not stay forever...we lost that love, and I neglected her as I became busy with my work. She became lonely. I didn’t care..I should have..but I didn’t care. Then, one night, in the middle of the night, she woke me up. She was a wreck.She was trembling with fear. She said, ‘ I saw a thing on the ataka.I saw something. It is looking at us. It is observing us”. At first I took her seriously. I searched the whole ataka and found nothing. I even took a photograph of the ataka, and also the photograph you found.I found nothing on the ataka..nothing. But, She didn’t believe me. Her descent to madness started from there. I took her to a psychiatrist…and he diagnosed as having schizophrenia… 50-50 he said. He said that she was going through some delusions..and the symptoms matched with schizophrenia. Whatever it is ..she started behaving very oddly. She lost all her beauty. She stopped talking care of herself, and she started hating me..for not believing her..for not supporting her. What else could I do in that situation? How can anyone reason with a psychologically disturbed person?”

He stopped. Silence.

“Then, what happened?”, I asked.

“Listen to me. Life is not like one of those stupid movies and novels you watch and read.Life is not about dreams..its not about idealism. You have to understand that”, he said.

This time, surprise was mine. “What are you talking about?”, I asked.

“Life is about moving on. We have to move on to live. We have to move on to survive. If you don’t move, we die. As simple as that.”

“Alright, I got that. What happened to her?”, I asked again.

“I gave up on her.”, he finally revealed, with absolutely no guilt in his face.

“What!”, I shouted

“Yes. No medicine was able to cure her. I just gave up, and one day she left. I searched for her..But as you know, we couldn’t find her anywhere”.

Silence for a couple of seconds.

“Dad..did you…you knew that she was leaving us on that night?”

No response from him.

“Dad, answer me”

Silence.

“ANSWER ME”, I shouted this time.


He became furious. “How dare you shout at me like that? How dare you? Whats your life?
Whats your experience? You are nothing without me. You are insulting me? Are you capable of running your own life? Are you? Look at yourself….what a loser you turned out to be! That’s what you are..a loser. I put all my hopes on you, and sent you to foreign lands, with what…with my hard-earned money. And what you did? You threw away all that..everything..and came back as a beggar..as a loser. How dare you insult me? Everyday I am dying…everyday..whenever people ask me ‘Whats your son doing?’. What am I supposed to answer them..that my son is a lazy son of bitch, that he is loser, a jobless bum? That my son smokes and drinks..thats what he do all day..you want me to say that? Everyone is asking..’Why your son still single’?..what shall I answer them..that you are impotent bastard..that you are a freak? I lost all my respect in the society because of you. But, still, I showed you love. I cooked you food. I took care of you.I provided a safe roof for you…and, now, you shout at me? How dare you?”.

I was shell-shocked. Almost as if a bomb exploded near my face. Whose priorities got fucked? His or mine? Its my mother we were talking about..for fucksake.

He might have realized his mistake. He might have realized his fucked up priorities. But, the effect was reverse. That realization might have pained his ego, and he went ballistic.

That anger made him weak, and opened up the flood gates of secrets.In that moment of weakness, he exposed himself.

He continued…almost raising his voice to the top of his pitch, “ You want to know the truth? You really want to know? Okay, lets talk man to man. R u ready?”

“Yes”.

“Then listen. Would the woman you loved be the same woman after she lost all her beauty? Would the woman you married be the same woman after she lost her mind? If your soul-mate loses her soul, would you be the same person, and would she be the same woman? That woman ceased to be the woman I loved and married..once she had gone crazy. Aren’t we our minds and bodies? I ask you. How can you still love the woman who hates you with all your heart? My wife died a long back..she died on the day..the day..she imagined seeing some fucking creature..she died on that day. I lost my wife on that day. I couldn’t even able to touch her..you know why? Because that bitch stank. I never told this to anyone before…..after she had gone crazy..she started emanating some horrendous smell..I never ever ..in my life..smelled such kind of smell. It’s the smell of death..its the smell of devil. I never told anyone about this..as I didn’t want to become laughing stock. If she went crazy because she saw the most ugliest fearful creature on this earth..how about me…who was smelling the most horrible smell on this earth..day in and day out..It drove me crazy…and God, what happened to her face!!! It is not the ugliness I am talking about..it became weird..she became inhuman..a devil..a satan..but still, I performed my duties as a husband…I was/am a responsible hardworking man. I responded to my responsibilities. I was a perfect husband to her. But, how far can a man take the pain. People started avoiding me. I lost all the respect. A man is man only when the society respects him. That was the last straw. I had to take a decision. I let that ghost..a shadow..go. I didn’t push her. I just didn’t stop her. Then, she left. I moved on. I suggest you move on too. DON’T WASTE YOUR LIFE.COME TO REALITY”

I trembled with disgust. Who is this guy sitting before me? The same guy I thought as a human being for the last 30 years?

“What reality?”, I asked him..almost murmuring.

“The reality that we got to survive. We have to live. We have to move on. Don’t chase the past.It will destroy you.”

“Mother is past?”

“Yes.She was past”.

“Past becomes past when you find closure”, I replied.


He didn’t respond.

We sat there …silent..for couple of minutes.


I broke the silence, “So, you thought, whatever she saw was just her imagination?”

He nodded in confirmation.

“Then, how do you explain what I saw?”

He looked in to my eyes, with sadness in his eyes, and said “Isn’t it obvious?”.

Once I realized what he was implying, an invisible bond of father-son relationship
was smashed for a moment, and I started looking at a new person, an entirely new person.

A cruel, selfish bigot, I must add.

Continued here..