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Authors: Minakshi Chaudhry
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their fathers having forgotten him. He would ask them to tell their parents that he was remembering them.
He would visit all those shops where he used to go for years, and taunt the shopkeepers for not recognizing him. He would call his sister, old colleagues and other near and distant relatives and people from his native village and scold them for not being in touch.
All this had started about six years back. He would sit and brood. Whenever I asked him what he was thinking he would say, ‘Look where I have made this house, so far away from my native place. I am a pardesi [foreigner] here.’ Then he would start remembering old friends, colleagues, acquaintances and relatives and wonder about their whereabouts. We did not see it coming nor did we understand what was happening to him. We either ignored this or snapped at him.
He would call me everyday and say, ‘Keep coming every weekend to meet me, you must come. It gets chirpy when you come . Raunak ho jati hai, aa jaya karo . Why don’t you take leave? You must take long leave and stay with me.’ He called Vikram, Deepak and Mala didi too and repeated the same to them.
And when we went to Solan he would ask us, ‘How many days’ leave have you taken? How long you will stay?’ His face fell when we said that we had come for two or three days! He was saddened and the joy of seeing his children just vanished. He was going into depression slowly and we failed to notice that!
16
Oh, Dadoo! How I want to assure you that we will be with you always. But will you understand now? The irony is that when you could have understood, we did not understand you! I tried to escape a visit to Solan, though I did not succeed often. I wanted to avoid travelling for hours to and fro in a day. The more you craved for my attention and sympathy and pleaded with me to come; the more irritated I got. It is only now I realize that your pleas were not yours, it was the illness making you behave like this. I am so ashamed of my behaviour towards you in the past: I ignored your requests and questions. So many times I would hurriedly put down the phone or ask you to act sensibly. And when I was with you in Solan, I escaped to my room so as not to listen to your endless banter.
Now I know that he suffers from a mental disorder that is destroying him bit by bit. But a constant helplessness and anger at my failure to help him frustrates me. This disease has reduced a healthy, happy and intelligent individual into a vegetable.
It is more painful when he does not understand that we have tried and we are trying all possible combinations of medicines and that we have taken him to so many specialist doctors at different places. He does not remember. I feel wretched when he says, ‘Do you know any good doctor, my mind is not right. Can you take me to a doctor? I want my full check-up done.’
When we tell him not to worry, he says, ‘It is not in my hands. I worry because I think that I will forget. I will not remember to tell you that I need a doctor. This anxiety of losing my memory makes me restless and I am always exhausted.’
It is a nightmare that does not end.
17
Imagination and memory go together. When memory fades and disappears, imagination goes too. And all that remains is ‘nothing’ – a gaping black hole.
These days he spends his time searching for papers of the land that he thinks he bought, bank accounts that he thinks he opened and the important files that he has lost. His brain is working all the time, trying to find the things that never were but which are real for him. This search is futile as there is nothing to find. But that is what we think. He thinks totally differently. He stresses himself to remember things, but the more he puts himself under pressure the more these move away from him. It is a chase that is only in his mind.
Only grace is, he forgets what he was searching for and we can divert his attention. But sometimes it continues for an entire day or
He would visit all those shops where he used to go for years, and taunt the shopkeepers for not recognizing him. He would call his sister, old colleagues and other near and distant relatives and people from his native village and scold them for not being in touch.
All this had started about six years back. He would sit and brood. Whenever I asked him what he was thinking he would say, ‘Look where I have made this house, so far away from my native place. I am a pardesi [foreigner] here.’ Then he would start remembering old friends, colleagues, acquaintances and relatives and wonder about their whereabouts. We did not see it coming nor did we understand what was happening to him. We either ignored this or snapped at him.
He would call me everyday and say, ‘Keep coming every weekend to meet me, you must come. It gets chirpy when you come . Raunak ho jati hai, aa jaya karo . Why don’t you take leave? You must take long leave and stay with me.’ He called Vikram, Deepak and Mala didi too and repeated the same to them.
And when we went to Solan he would ask us, ‘How many days’ leave have you taken? How long you will stay?’ His face fell when we said that we had come for two or three days! He was saddened and the joy of seeing his children just vanished. He was going into depression slowly and we failed to notice that!
16
Oh, Dadoo! How I want to assure you that we will be with you always. But will you understand now? The irony is that when you could have understood, we did not understand you! I tried to escape a visit to Solan, though I did not succeed often. I wanted to avoid travelling for hours to and fro in a day. The more you craved for my attention and sympathy and pleaded with me to come; the more irritated I got. It is only now I realize that your pleas were not yours, it was the illness making you behave like this. I am so ashamed of my behaviour towards you in the past: I ignored your requests and questions. So many times I would hurriedly put down the phone or ask you to act sensibly. And when I was with you in Solan, I escaped to my room so as not to listen to your endless banter.
Now I know that he suffers from a mental disorder that is destroying him bit by bit. But a constant helplessness and anger at my failure to help him frustrates me. This disease has reduced a healthy, happy and intelligent individual into a vegetable.
It is more painful when he does not understand that we have tried and we are trying all possible combinations of medicines and that we have taken him to so many specialist doctors at different places. He does not remember. I feel wretched when he says, ‘Do you know any good doctor, my mind is not right. Can you take me to a doctor? I want my full check-up done.’
When we tell him not to worry, he says, ‘It is not in my hands. I worry because I think that I will forget. I will not remember to tell you that I need a doctor. This anxiety of losing my memory makes me restless and I am always exhausted.’
It is a nightmare that does not end.
17
Imagination and memory go together. When memory fades and disappears, imagination goes too. And all that remains is ‘nothing’ – a gaping black hole.
These days he spends his time searching for papers of the land that he thinks he bought, bank accounts that he thinks he opened and the important files that he has lost. His brain is working all the time, trying to find the things that never were but which are real for him. This search is futile as there is nothing to find. But that is what we think. He thinks totally differently. He stresses himself to remember things, but the more he puts himself under pressure the more these move away from him. It is a chase that is only in his mind.
Only grace is, he forgets what he was searching for and we can divert his attention. But sometimes it continues for an entire day or
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