He is there, spreading his terror,
the world kneels to him, to his scourge
The other is in the minds,
taking the world to destruction's verge
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He likes to kill people, to destroy life
to serve his own nefarious means,
The other poisons the minds of all,
in a way none can hear the victim's screams.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He can be stopped
by barriers, bullets and brawn
The other is entrenched so deeply in the psyche,
That away from it cannot be torn.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He is the one we see
gun-toting, launching bombs, killing brothers
The other is invisible, unseen
and inspires Man to kill each other.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
Which one is more dangerous?
Which one is worse?
The other, my friend, has to be weeded out,
for it is the mankind's horrendous curse.
It is the hate, the hatred we harbour
We dont hear the heart's peaceful sound.
Stop the terrorist within, to kill the terrorist without
Seek the inner peace, if outer peace is to be found.
-SPDA
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Therapist
As a psychiatrist, my practice often involved dealing with all kinds of people. Most are forgotten into oblivion, some interesting maniacs are remembered for some time, but a very few cases are such which are forever etched into memory. One such was the case of Shyam. I will never, ever forget it. It was not the peculiarity of the case which had etched it in my memory, but for the events that followed it.
I still remember the day, 8th January, Monday. I was about to shut the clinic. In fact, I had even sent my secretary home. Then, he came. He was an innocent looking man, the kind which could not even hurt a fly. With demure expressions and teary eyes, he entered my cabin and pleaded, “Doctor! Please help me!” I was taken in with pity on this poor tortured soul. I asked him to tell me what was happening to him.
“Doctor, I love a girl, but she hates me, and I cannot keep her out of my mind! Please help me!” he pleaded again. Now this was familiar territory for me. I had counseled hundreds of cases like him before.
I asked him to relate his full story to me without interruption. He told me how he had seen the girl, two months ago and had fallen instantly in love with her. Next day, he had proposed to her and upon being rejected, he could not digest the shock. He had since lost all interest in life. The plot was too similar to many young boys and girls I had counseled. A long practice often tends to desensitize doctors. What was a heart-rending story for this man was ordinary daily routine to me.
I asked him whether he knew that the girl was married or not. He replied that she was indeed married to a psychiatrist. The last word made me jump. My next question was very specific, “Do you know the name of his husband?”
“No sir, I don’t know.” He replied. I heaved a sigh of relief. I asked him the name of the girl. His reply gave me a jolt. “Her name was Sunaina.”, he replied. A series of images flashed in my mind- me marrying a beautiful girl called Sunaina, she complaining me about a psychopath harassing her, she disappearing two months ago and her rotting body being found in a man’s bedroom in a badly mangled state.
This bastard had killed my wife! I took my revolver - a licensed revolver capable of firing 6 rounds, which I kept for emergencies, from the cabinet below my desk. But before I could do a thing, Shyam took out his gun and ordered me to write a certificate, certifying him as a manic. My hands were trembling and I was barely able to hold the gun. Just one slap from him made me drop my gun. The next moment, all I knew was a sound, a searing pain in my chest and a smoking gun.
In the precious few, painful moments before death, I heard him talking on his mobile phone, “Sunaina darling! I have killed your husband. He has even registered me as a patient. So, at the time of crime, legally, I was not in my mind and will not be punishable! Your plan has worked. And yes, that old dead body in my room has been buried. Now, nobody can separate us!”
Sitting in heaven, I am waiting for the two people- Shyam and Sunaina, who have sent me here. As I said, I will never be able to forget this particular case.
I still remember the day, 8th January, Monday. I was about to shut the clinic. In fact, I had even sent my secretary home. Then, he came. He was an innocent looking man, the kind which could not even hurt a fly. With demure expressions and teary eyes, he entered my cabin and pleaded, “Doctor! Please help me!” I was taken in with pity on this poor tortured soul. I asked him to tell me what was happening to him.
“Doctor, I love a girl, but she hates me, and I cannot keep her out of my mind! Please help me!” he pleaded again. Now this was familiar territory for me. I had counseled hundreds of cases like him before.
I asked him to relate his full story to me without interruption. He told me how he had seen the girl, two months ago and had fallen instantly in love with her. Next day, he had proposed to her and upon being rejected, he could not digest the shock. He had since lost all interest in life. The plot was too similar to many young boys and girls I had counseled. A long practice often tends to desensitize doctors. What was a heart-rending story for this man was ordinary daily routine to me.
I asked him whether he knew that the girl was married or not. He replied that she was indeed married to a psychiatrist. The last word made me jump. My next question was very specific, “Do you know the name of his husband?”
“No sir, I don’t know.” He replied. I heaved a sigh of relief. I asked him the name of the girl. His reply gave me a jolt. “Her name was Sunaina.”, he replied. A series of images flashed in my mind- me marrying a beautiful girl called Sunaina, she complaining me about a psychopath harassing her, she disappearing two months ago and her rotting body being found in a man’s bedroom in a badly mangled state.
This bastard had killed my wife! I took my revolver - a licensed revolver capable of firing 6 rounds, which I kept for emergencies, from the cabinet below my desk. But before I could do a thing, Shyam took out his gun and ordered me to write a certificate, certifying him as a manic. My hands were trembling and I was barely able to hold the gun. Just one slap from him made me drop my gun. The next moment, all I knew was a sound, a searing pain in my chest and a smoking gun.
In the precious few, painful moments before death, I heard him talking on his mobile phone, “Sunaina darling! I have killed your husband. He has even registered me as a patient. So, at the time of crime, legally, I was not in my mind and will not be punishable! Your plan has worked. And yes, that old dead body in my room has been buried. Now, nobody can separate us!”
Sitting in heaven, I am waiting for the two people- Shyam and Sunaina, who have sent me here. As I said, I will never be able to forget this particular case.
The Therapist
As a psychiatrist, my practice often involved dealing with all kinds of people. Most are forgotten into oblivion, some interesting maniacs are remembered for some time, but a very few cases are such which are forever etched into memory. One such was the case of Shyam. I will never, ever forget it. It was not the peculiarity of the case which had etched it in my memory, but for the events that followed it.
I still remember the day, 8th January, Monday. I was about to shut the clinic. In fact, I had even sent my secretary home. Then, he came. He was an innocent looking man, the kind which could not even hurt a fly. With demure expressions and teary eyes, he entered my cabin and pleaded, “Doctor! Please help me!” I was taken in with pity on this poor tortured soul. I asked him to tell me what was happening to him.
“Doctor, I love a girl, but she hates me, and I cannot keep her out of my mind! Please help me!” he pleaded again. Now this was familiar territory for me. I had counseled hundreds of cases like him before.
I asked him to relate his full story to me without interruption. He told me how he had seen the girl, Sunaina, two months ago and had fallen instantly in love with her. Next day, he had proposed to her and upon being rejected, he could not digest the shock. He had since lost all interest in life. The plot was too similar to many young boys and girls I had counseled. A long practice often tends to desensitize doctors. What was a heart-rending story for this man was ordinary daily routine to me.
Luckily, to my rescue, came my friend, Dr. Shekhar’s phone. He too was a renowned psychiatrist.
“Hello Shekhar! How are you?” I asked him.
Shekhar sounded anxious and his voice seemed to be trembling, “I have called you to inform you about an attack on me by a psychopath. I have been shot at by a stranger, without any apparent cause. You take care!”
I was shocked. Poor Shekhar was the most decent fellow I had ever met. Why would anyone shoot him?
“But why would anyone shoot you?” I was still not able to digest the fact that someone like Shekhar can be attacked.
“I have no idea. You take care of yourselves.”
“Hey Shekhar, I am having an interesting case. Its about a guy called Shyam…”I talked about the case for some time to take his mind off the shock. But his voice grew worse.
“Hey, is his name Shyam?” he asked fearfully.
“Yes. Why?”
“Is he talking about a girl called sunaina whom he loved and who rejected his proposal to marry him?”
I replied in affirmative. Now, Shekhar’s voice changed totally to a fearful, trembling voice of a person who has seen death from close quarters. “Save yourselves! He is the psychopath who attacked me! The Sunaina he is referring to is dead since two months. He killed her when she refused his proposal to marry him. The police recovered her rotting body from his bedroom. Sunaina was married to some psychiatrist, so this guy is on a killing spree to kill all psychiatrists he meets. Save yourselves before its too late!”
I was stunned. Dazed. Shekhar’s words brought back several vivid images. Me marrying a girl secretly against her parents’ wishes, changing her name from Sunaina to Sunita, she complaining two months ago of a psychopath who was harassing her, she disappearing the next day… this blasted psychopath had killed my beloved sunaina! I looked at him with all the anger I had and was about to hit him when I heard a sound. Everything went into slow motion. Me raising my fist, Shyam raising his gun, his finger pressing on the trigger, my punch about to land on his face and the trigger pressed by his finger. I never got to hit him. Before that, I was shot through my heart, and my eyes closed. Forever.
Sitting in heaven, I must say, I will never be able to forget Shyam.
I still remember the day, 8th January, Monday. I was about to shut the clinic. In fact, I had even sent my secretary home. Then, he came. He was an innocent looking man, the kind which could not even hurt a fly. With demure expressions and teary eyes, he entered my cabin and pleaded, “Doctor! Please help me!” I was taken in with pity on this poor tortured soul. I asked him to tell me what was happening to him.
“Doctor, I love a girl, but she hates me, and I cannot keep her out of my mind! Please help me!” he pleaded again. Now this was familiar territory for me. I had counseled hundreds of cases like him before.
I asked him to relate his full story to me without interruption. He told me how he had seen the girl, Sunaina, two months ago and had fallen instantly in love with her. Next day, he had proposed to her and upon being rejected, he could not digest the shock. He had since lost all interest in life. The plot was too similar to many young boys and girls I had counseled. A long practice often tends to desensitize doctors. What was a heart-rending story for this man was ordinary daily routine to me.
Luckily, to my rescue, came my friend, Dr. Shekhar’s phone. He too was a renowned psychiatrist.
“Hello Shekhar! How are you?” I asked him.
Shekhar sounded anxious and his voice seemed to be trembling, “I have called you to inform you about an attack on me by a psychopath. I have been shot at by a stranger, without any apparent cause. You take care!”
I was shocked. Poor Shekhar was the most decent fellow I had ever met. Why would anyone shoot him?
“But why would anyone shoot you?” I was still not able to digest the fact that someone like Shekhar can be attacked.
“I have no idea. You take care of yourselves.”
“Hey Shekhar, I am having an interesting case. Its about a guy called Shyam…”I talked about the case for some time to take his mind off the shock. But his voice grew worse.
“Hey, is his name Shyam?” he asked fearfully.
“Yes. Why?”
“Is he talking about a girl called sunaina whom he loved and who rejected his proposal to marry him?”
I replied in affirmative. Now, Shekhar’s voice changed totally to a fearful, trembling voice of a person who has seen death from close quarters. “Save yourselves! He is the psychopath who attacked me! The Sunaina he is referring to is dead since two months. He killed her when she refused his proposal to marry him. The police recovered her rotting body from his bedroom. Sunaina was married to some psychiatrist, so this guy is on a killing spree to kill all psychiatrists he meets. Save yourselves before its too late!”
I was stunned. Dazed. Shekhar’s words brought back several vivid images. Me marrying a girl secretly against her parents’ wishes, changing her name from Sunaina to Sunita, she complaining two months ago of a psychopath who was harassing her, she disappearing the next day… this blasted psychopath had killed my beloved sunaina! I looked at him with all the anger I had and was about to hit him when I heard a sound. Everything went into slow motion. Me raising my fist, Shyam raising his gun, his finger pressing on the trigger, my punch about to land on his face and the trigger pressed by his finger. I never got to hit him. Before that, I was shot through my heart, and my eyes closed. Forever.
Sitting in heaven, I must say, I will never be able to forget Shyam.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
