The Psychiatrist.

After writing the prescription, the doctor looked at her for a moment.

She seemed confident, yet strangely devoid of emotion. He continued observing her without saying a word, as though searching for something hidden beneath her calm expression.

But her body language revealed nothing.

“So,” he finally said, “you have to take these medicines for the next two months and come back for a follow-up.”

“Yes.”

She remained seated.

The doctor looked at her again.

“You can go home now. I’ll be waiting for you when we meet again in two months.”

“Okay…” She hesitated. “I’m sorry. So… see you after two months.”

“Yes. See you then.”

She stood and quietly left the consultation room.

As the door closed behind her, the doctor felt strangely relieved.

He reached for one of the many books on the shelf beside him and tried to read. But he couldn’t get beyond the second sentence.

His eyes remained on the page.

His mind did not.

There was something about her.

Something he couldn’t understand.

Something that made him uneasy.

Two Months Later

She returned exactly as promised.

This time, she brought a few books as a gift.

There was no apparent change in her behaviour. She answered his questions with the same few words, her expression calm and unreadable.

Then she began asking questions of her own.

Interesting questions.

Questions about the mind. About fear. About memory. About the fragile boundary between sanity and madness.

For a moment, she sounded less like a patient and more like someone studying the human mind professionally.

The doctor answered carefully, keeping his replies clinical and detached.

Finally, he wrote another prescription.

“Take these for the next two months,” he said. “And come back after that.”

She nodded.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

She stood and walked toward the door.

As she stepped outside, she opened the prescription.

She stopped.

There were no medicines written on it.

No dosage.

No instructions.

Only a few random lines.

She stared at them for a moment, then gave a hopeless whisper. 

She went to the receptionist and handed over the file she was holding in her hand on which it’s written “The Psychiatrist”.

She asked “ Is the next patient ready?”. 

Friend from Uzbekistan

 Less than 10 minutes in my hands, i was rushing to my clinic on a bright summer day in St.Petersburg.  Waiting for the bus , i saw a lot of people ,their fashion , romance , life burdens and a tiny wave of seemingly polished energy.  There were a bunch of people among others who were talking so loudly ,mocking at each other ,hitting themselves to find their morning charm. I think most of other people around, found them discomfortable. Surprisingly one guy from the gang, told me “Namaste”-a hindi word for formal greetings. As i greeted him back ,he asked me “ Are you from india?” . I said Yes and asked him where he hail from ? He said “Uzbekistan ”.  After pausing for a selfie with his gang, i tried to excuse myself inorder to lighten the rise of xenophobia among others. 

I usually tries to talk with anybody who shows some interest to talk to me.  I consider one look ,one smile , one greeting and all as an open invitation to start a  conversation.  Sometimes , it works out very nicely and helps me earn new friends. But sometimes it fails and i set back . Anyway , it usually has a decent success rate. 

On the way, i met another guy who smiled at me while repairing some pipeline . His smile itself reflects the whole Tulip festivals of the city . Expressing his hectic work by his gait unconsciously, he hurried towards me and just spoke some random words like “India ” “Amitabh bachan” “Mithun chakrabarthy” and sang a popular Hindi song “Jimmy jimmy ”. By the way ,these are not just random words. These words contain history, social life and generations of love and affection towards bollywood and so to indians. To be frank , As i am from south india , i was not much relatable to these 90s bollywood culture. With the background of these words, He hugged me tightly and expressed his love as if he met an old childhood friend after decades. He didn't just hug me but also painted all the dirt from his worksite onto my dress as i tried to ease away from his wrap. 

As its my last day of work in St.Petersburg, i was very conscious to reach the clinic punctually. It was a happy but busy day as clients were wishing me “Happy journey ”. My colleagues arranged a nice farewell to me and offered some sweets. I also expressed my thanks to everyone and said Good bye to St.Petersburg.  

Arriving on Berlin , my new workplace, i was walking to my allotted apartment. The city seems totally strange as i dont know anyone and anything here . I didnt get any casual smiles, looks , and welcoming hand of help . Then i noticed two people who were repairing a pipeline and talking so loudly. I looked at them as they stood up and smiled . I ran to them and asked “where are you from ?” . They said “Uzbekistan ”.  I smiled like a child, hugged both of them and said “ I ......India” ....“Amitabh bachan”... “Mithun chakrabarthy”... “ Jimmy jimmy ” . We all laughed out so loudly as the whole streets looked at us.  I didn't bother whether i got dirty or not. 

The Last One

I was the last one...

So many times... I was the last one..

I was born on 31st December midnight as i may be one among the last baby of that year. But i never felt bad on that, as i am still considered to be a Newyear Gift to my family.

I was the last student who used to come to my class. So, my teacher always punish me by saying "Put all the lights and fans off after the final bell." Firstly i found that as a burden, but gradually by that way, i turned to someone more than a class leader.

I was very vigilant that i could omit so many of errors in my assignments. Do you know how? Its the same Simple reason... I was the last one who submit the works. 

I am the last one who leave the dining table. My friends used to call me a foody, and they used to make fun out of my verocious eating habit. But i was ok that i never allowed my table to waste any food.

I think we are made for each other. I hope that i am the last Boyfriend of my Last girlfriend. And so .. The only point i wish to say.... is the word "Last".

Yes .. last is a hope.. last is a wisdom..

Last is not out, its in.. Last is beautiful.

Its not always being the first is great. 

Its the last too ....

When the darkness is darkest.

when the storm is strong..

when the tides are tall..

When the Hopes are nil.

Its not about the first one who come and left that matters..

Its all about the last one who still standing...

Happy Lie.

Since i joined in this hospital as a Medical officer, i really missed my evening tea. Those sips were a part of my life, my energizer and my best listener. Each time i touch my lips on that tumbler, i used to murmur my thoughts and imprint my feeling on it. Sometimes my words may have tobaco stains.. sometimes not....

It was a usual day but an unusual moment when i was called by my senior doctor for an evening tea. I went along with him passively without any hesitations. He lighted a ciggarates and pointed me one but i was polite enough to say No that i still regret. 

He was a great man. He talked about his college life, his adventures, his life changing moments with rarest of the rare diseases, and few of his advices that i dont even remember. Inbetween i was asked about few opinions on hospital stuffs.  But i answered as if everything goes well and good. Meanwhile, a young man interrupted into our talk by asking .."Sir... You remember me? You treated my daughter few years back.." 

My sir went puzzled and tried few gestures of memory recollections and asked her name..

The man said " Akhila ..sir..  Five years back she had a Chest pain.. i brought her to you."  My sir smiled away and asked about his children and family.. There we had a brief conversation with that man as we both finished the tea.....

When we were walking back, sir told me, that man's story. I felt light to know His daughter is no more and he is just insane after her demise... 

I felt so bad and, watching me, my sir said..." We may face such situations.. We are always destined to tell bad stories to the people right..?, so,,,, sometimes its good to finish the story with a "Happy lie" instead of ending it with a sad truth... Sometimes we have only one option to choose instead of multiple choices that dont have answers...."

THE THIRD PLACE.

I believe that there will be a place for everyone of us, where we all will be on high. I don't mean somewhere we can get addictives.. Its more than that. It can be your friends house, public library, beach, theatre, pubs or even your own bedroom....The place where we all will never be taken for granted. Where we seek what's hidden inside us. Where we can truly find what's happiness..

Comparatively, its more easy for a boy to find his place as they enjoy more freedom. Some girls will find theirs, walking the paths less travelled by others. Some people can change any place to something they wish. They can find beauty in anywhere. And others will adjust and Pretend to be living within theirs. Whatever the scenario is ... We need that.. We have to find it. We just need a place.. a third place...

Am not talking about a place were you can find success and thus happiness as you might have bored off believing that success is the key to happiness. But that's wrong.. totally wrong.. Infact, happiness is the key to success.. But it doesn't matter whether you succeed or not.. You just find this place. This third place..

And when you start thinking about this,, deep to yourself, you may figure it out, the ultimate truth.. The truth that the hardest person to spend time with is yourself..

HIDE AND SEEK

''''On the island of Chios, Orion wooed Merope, daughter of the great  King named Oenopion, apparently without much success, for one night while fortified with wine he tried to ravish her. In punishment, Oenopion put out Orion’s eyes and banished him from the island. Orion headed north to the island of Lemnos where Hephaestus had his forge. Hephaestus took pity on the blind Orion and offered one of his assistants, Cedalion, to act SERVE as his eyes. Hoisting the youth on his shoulders, Orion headed east towards the sunrise, which an oracle had told him would restore his sight. As the Sun’s healing rays fell on his sightless eyes at dawn, Orion’s vision was miraculously relieved, But to stop orion from teasing the same girl, the king Oenopion put him on to the sky.'''-- """That's it dear , you are seeing now."""" Looking at that mysterious constellation in the sky, he completed his story with a gasp

Curiously  listening to the story, the baby girl leaned towards his bare chest and doubted -" so will this ORION tease me when i became an astronaut ???"""" . He said No and added-"  if he come through your way, you just shoot him down, ok.. "okaay- the baby girl became happy.. 

"Dad... was my mom a tennis player?? " the baby asked. He slid his head towards the photo shelf and reminisced the days when he played tennis with his wife. " yes, your mother was a wonderful tennis player, you can also have  a try". He advised her setting an example. 

"Dad,,, was my mother a horse rider???, the girl again proudly asked to know that her mother was good in all such. Childish curiosity elevated and set her mind cheerfully to remember her mother. She was not sad, may be she doesn't know how and why people got sad. Sadness at first takes the senses to train our emotions for acting horribly with few drips of water from eyes and some meaningless noises....

She answered Yes to herself without waiting for her fathers reply. "Dad, i know she was good in tennis, horse riding,  and was a good dancer too.. So tell me, what was her  favorite game???

The curtains of their bedroom window was bathing in the soft blending moonlight as he threw his eyes in an inclined trajectory. Amusing...He saw a star twinkling at him. When he was about to point that star to his daughter as he pondered its as his wife- her baby's unseen mother. But the star dimmed.. 

The baby once again asked " hey dad, tell me, what was my mothers favorite game???? 

Looking at the sky once again, he said, ""HIDE AND SEEK... That was your mothers favorite game...."""  

ANGEL

Just like a mechanical doll, i backpacked my handbag and paced to my bus-stop after hearing the bang of my college bell. Stepping few more feet ahead, i dipped my chin down as  i tried to stare away from that regular guy who simply looks at me every day. He never teased me for all this while, but his gaze itself is a horrible disturbance for me. Drifting away from his piercing look, i moved ahead like a Hollywood-star walks on Red carpet. It took nearly ten minutes for me to reach my bus-stop and i jumped into the bus. For gods sake, i got a window-seat as i  found a relief from the pain i used to feel amidst my shoulder blades.However, It was a happy evening as the sinking sun made the never-ending horizon more and more reddish.

When my bus took a sudden break to load the passengers, my eyes got stuck to a cute girl who just stepped-in with her mom. As my lap found vacant for that girl, her mother told me to take care of her child. I felt very very happy as usual as i am too fond of playing with children. She appears less than four years of age and i prefer to call her as an ANGEL for the rest of this story. She attired with a silvery white gown and wear a white, translucent scarf around her head. Black-lined eyelashes of her, gave me a marvelous contrast with her facial complexions. Everything about her made me happy except two things,,, first thing that she never smiled.....and the second thing that she never even yelled a word to me...

I tried to impress her with so many of my childish gestures that i usually use when i rejoice with children. But none of them worked on her. As the each and every attempt of mine was failing, passengers who were sitting aside of me, grinned and showed their devils glee. It was a great sarcasm for them though it was all my sinking ships in the sea of my ANGELS mind.

Slipping away from all those sarcastic laughs, i asked my angels name.. But she made me disappointing enough to put a spark to the next cracker of laughter in the bus.I asked her name one more time in a politely childish way. I asked again,,, three times ... four times..... It was good enough for thousand times... But she plunged me again into chaos that i reached down-to-earth to decide that i wont entertain any children ever in my life.I tried a chocolate. she took it and again sat simply,giving me a slight sense of gratitude and happiness.

As i am about to reach my home, i set myself ready to step down from the bus after giving my ANGEL back to her mother. When i stood for a while to drop myself down from the bus, i asked her name once again to her mother. She conveyed something to my ANGEL as my angel happily showed her fluttering hands on me in response... ohhhhh my god.....ANGEL....

I slumped down from the bus and  just stood for a while as the bus passed... My angel is still smile-fully  fluttering at me... But she don't talk to me, and she don't hear me.... Her mother waved her hands and conveyed few gestures to pole her vote of thanks...And she added one more gesture which made my cheeks wet..   Actually, my ANGEL could never talk to anybody... and she could never hear anybody....