24. The Search
A man got to start somewhere at some time with something in order to achieve his goal.I am not talking about planning, brainstorming or theory. I am talking about practice. I am talking about realizing an idea in the material world. An idea becomes complete only after realizing the idea. In that sense, an idea in theory is never complete, as the implementation of the idea changes the idea itself.
During those 2 months I changed many of my ideas, ideas about myself and the ideas about finding my mother.
As soon as I reached Hyderabad, I went to the oldest psychiatrist hospital, one of the only two hospitals that existed three decades back. It was an old building, neglect written all over it.
The head of the hospital, a 60 yr old psychiatric professor received me with some curiosity.
"What can I do for you", he asked.
" I would like know about a woman, 25 yrs old, who might have received treatment here 25 yrs back".
My request surprised him a bit. As far as he was concerned, people come there to dump memories, not in search of them.
"Why do you want to know? Whats your relation to that woman? What was she suffering from?"
"She is my mother, Sir"
Mother sentiment.
"Can you tell me the whole story?
I told him just enough to pique his curiosity. After some more questions he took me to an old basement room where all the records of the patients were dumped, and I started searching.
Finally, the search came to nothing. No patient with my mothers name existed in those records..
As I came out of the hospital, I finally asked him, " Is it possible for any person to go crazy after coming in contact with some horrible image or some being?"
"There is a possibility of temporary insanity. But I would definitely rule out the possibility of a person going permanently insane after that, even though the episodes of breakdowns may reoccur".
I spent the next few days researching on the internet. I googled, wikipead, yahooed, ASKed,binged.
animal + ugly
alien + ugly + fearful
animal looks like a horse, elephant, crocodile
freak of nature + mutation
the most fearful animal on the planet
the most ugliest animal on the planet
going crazy after seeing it
None of the images that resulted from the search had any resemblance to the creature I had seen on the ataka. I went to the libraries, zoology departments and zoos asking people if they had seen or heard of such creature.
I made a list of all the psychiatrist hospitals in India, those hospitals which existed many years back. I called everyone of them, some of them helped, some didn't. I visited those hospitals which refused to help on phone.
During my final call to Delhi psychiatric hospital, I asked the doctor, " What happens to those patients who were abandoned by their families? What happens to patients who could not afford to pay? What happens to them?"
"Some commit suicide, some die in accidents, but most of them become beggars", he answered.
They become beggars. A beggar. A beggar.
I remembered 'the beggar', the beggar who insisted on permanency of mothers love, the same beggar who gave me 500 rupees as I left that village -- my mother's village, two decades back as a kid.
25. The Beggar
I immediately packed my bag and went to my mothers village. Nothing changed in that village. The rat catchers still lived in the outskirts. Most of the youngsters left the village to the cities in search of jobs. Some youngsters took up farming. The only change was the TV with its cable, ruining the tranquility that once existed in that village. The old women who used to narrate stories of their lives, and the lives of their grandparents, reaching upto a century....were now discussing the stories of serials on the TV.
No one recognized me at first. Old people became too old and young people were too young. When I told them who I was, old people cried and hugged me, and the young people looked at me with curiosity which transferred into some genuine happiness later.
That was the house in which my mother was born. I was born in the same house too. She must have written her diary here. She must have dreamt about a beautiful life here...and here...look here..she must have day day dreamed here. Look here, at the veranda, she played with other kids here. She must have sung some songs.
What was her world? The house, the school, parents, siblings, movies - especially bobby, friends..and what else? That was her world. She wanted to escape that world, so she daydreamed. She sat there under that tree in the backyard and dreamed. She dreamt about a knight in the shining armour coming to her village on a horse and rescuing her. That must had been the only dream she dreamt. what else could she dream given the environment? Oh you feminists, fuck off! What else could you all expect from her?
Did she fell in love with someone before she got married? Did she fuck someone to control the raging hormones? What were her views about religion,caste and race?
Then she got married, and then got pregnant. She carried me for 9 months. She was here for the last 6 months of her pregnancy. Yes, right there in that room, she went through labor pains for whole night, and in the early morning, just as the sun rose, I was born.
A nice husband and a fat son. Perfect life! Then something happened. Her dreams were smashed. She left. Abrupt ending.
Two days went by.On that day, I went in search of the beggar, to the rat catcher's colony. There were all together 20 small huts exhibiting shameless poverty. I asked for the beggar, and they pointed me towards the last hut. A small group of naked children followed me.
He must be 60yrs but looked like 90.
I introduced myself to him, and he recognized me.
"Where did you get that money?", I asked without too much of formalities.
"Money is nothing", he replied dismissively.
" You know my mother?"
"She grew up before me in this village. She is the most beautiful girl in the whole village, may be in the whole mandal"
"Do you know where she is now?"
"she dead. Wounded deer wont survive in the jungle"
"How did she die?"
"Truth will kill you", he replied as he shifted his gaze towards the top of the hut.
It had a hole, and the sunlight was falling on him, as if he was in the spotlight. If not for the circumstances, I might had enjoyed the beauty of it.
"Do you love your mother?", he asked.
"I don't know". What is love?
"You are not ready"
"Ready for what?", I asked.
"You haven't suffered enough"
"Why should I suffer?"
"Because you have to burn a bit of yourself to see the light"
"What are you talking about?"
"You know why men always think about vagina? Because they are curious about their birth place". He puked out of context.
Then he started laughing, and during that bout of laughter he blurted out, "Okay, I will tell you the story".
Story: "Once upon a time, there was a village, and there lived a beautiful girl in that village. Unfortunately, she was born in a lower-caste. Then she got raped by a rich man. She got pregnant. A baby was born. She gave the baby to rat-catchers. After that, they found her body in the river. That boy grew up into a strong man. He came to know about his father. He burned with rage. Then, he saw his sister, the daughter of his father. She took care of him. She became everything to him. His sister, a goddess of compassion. Then she went away. Then she disappeared. Thats the truth about two tragedies in his life."
I didnt expect that subplot, but it all made sense as to the reason why he showed love to me..in-spite of being a poor beggar.
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"On the day you were born"
"But, you said she died". I was irritated.
"Good people cant live for too long in this world".
"So, you don't know what happened to her?"
"I don't know, and I don't wanna know"
"Who told you your story?", I asked.
"I dreamt it".
That was it. I knew what was happening. I was talking to a crazy man, hoodwinked by his imagination sprinkled with some facts. Depression came over me as I walked out of the hut.
I heard him shouting, " You are not ready for the truth.You haven't suffered enough".
26. Portrait of a lady.
I met all my relatives. Everyone of them. Asking them the same questions again and again.
A : Beautiful woman. I tell you that.
B: Her eyes. Her best
C: Yes. Her eyes.Angelic!
A : She was naughty as a kid.
B: She was a good kid
C: She was alright.
A : She was very intelligent.
B: She was dumb.
C: She was okay.
A: She used to sit here and daydream.
B: Yes. she was a day dreamer.
C: ya..she was lazy.
A: She was selfish.
B: She left her son.
C: yes she was selfish.
A: She used to be friends with those beggars.
B: She was a compassionate woman.
C: She cussed me once, when I told her not to talk to them.
A : She had no caste feeling.
B : She hated caste.
C: She was stupid.
A : One thing I can tell you -- she was not normal.
B: She sometimes behaved abnormal.
C: Some screws lose in her head.
A : She eloped with that guy.
B : She is dead
C: I know where he is.
"Who?', I asked.
C: The student.
"What! You sure?". I was surprised.
I called him, the student.
Student : That was a long time ago. I liked her, but she started behaving odd. I left the town for work. After many years, I heard she died..that she committed suicide. Thats all I know.
"Can I meet you?", I asked.
"Sorry, I am busy", he disconnected the phone.
A: stop this. Find a job.
B: Get married.
C: Let bygones be bygones.
I realized on that day, that the toughest task, the task which makes an investigator worthy of his profession, is the task of filtering the bullshit. People just talk shit. Moreover, what I realized was that none of these people cared for my mother, and more over, it is impossible to create a portrait of a character from the opinions of the people.
Most people live their lives always thinking about what others think of them, trying to adjust their behavior, even goals..in-order to please them. They would be shocked to know that people don't know shit about them, and they even rarely think about them. All they have are opinions..dime a dozen..formed through their own prism of narrow perception.
[A-Z] : You idiot! We live a boring, unfulfilled life. So, we create stories to create drama. We also give you free advice to feel superior to you. Now, get the fuck out of here.
Absurd. It was all absurd.
I just marched through the 'Shock Corridor' and failed to pick up facts from the shit of imagination....the imagination of the 'real' deranged.
Continued here..
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