Just as we think we don't matter or are actions are lost among those of billions of other people, something bizarre might just change our rigid percetions.
‘So how long this has been happening’, she asked. I told her , ‘it has been ten days’.
‘And it is always the same, or…’; she just left it hanging. I hate it when she does that. ‘Well like I said, earlier it was vague, faded, like a watermark and now a lot clearer but essentially … yeah, it’s always the same’, I explained.
‘Okay Deep, may I call you Deep’. I said she could. I admit that even though I have met people with similar issues but I can say, and quite honestly so, that this situation of yours “in entirety” is a first’, she said sounding more amused than rattled, contrary to what I had expected. But her frank remark made me even more uneasy, or maybe it’s just the ambiance.
My name is Deepvrath Bhatia, I know sounds like a priest’s name. But the truth is far from it. Easiest way to describe me would be to call me a poster boy for “the regular guy”, you know – decent acads, leave school at 18, finish college by 21, get a job, rent an apartment and constantly worry about the future. Coming back to my predicament, I’ve been having a little problem, which would be euphemism for I can’t sleep.
For the past 10 days I haven’t managed more than a couple of hours shut eye per night. Truth be told, now, I am too afraid to sleep.
Initially I chalked down my problem to the regular demons – ‘too much work’, ‘worrying about the future’, particularly worrying about no possibility of a future with the girl in cubicle 131’ and so on. But when the issue continued for a week, I confided in a close friend, Kunal. “Bhai tu to pagal ho gaya hai” (man you are losing it), was his almost instant reaction. Once he calmed down he gave me some advice, it confirmed that he really thought I am losing it. With no end in sight to this torment, and as a last resort, I took it. Latter regretted it.
On the ninth day I called Dr. Preethi Gupta’s office and confirmed an appointment for the next day. I reached there about ten minutes early. I approached a woman who looked like a receptionist, a secretary and, a nurse all rolled into one. Or at least that may have been the attempted look. She politely informed me that the doctor was with another patient and will join me shortly (talk about standard lines). And she did it in a, what could only be described as, well-rehearsed tone. I sat down and started browsing through that day’s newspaper, which I had already read cover to cover in the morning. Getting bored I started looking around. It wasn’t a bad office, not bad at all. It was roomy with comfortable sitting arrangements, a water cooler and a receptionist’s desk for the all in one lady. All this wrapped within light brown colored walls. ‘Hmm! Must be doing pretty well’, I thought to myself, all the while thanking that the medical insurance covers visits to a shrink. `Mr. Bhatia’, `Mr. Bhatia’. The lone officer called out from behind the desk, and I acknowledged by raising my hand. ‘It’s your turn to see the doctor’. ’Please take the door on the right’, she said pointing needlessly towards a door, to her right, with the doctor’s plaque. None the less I said, ‘thank you’, rising from my seat.
What is it about the shrinks that make people so ashamed to be in their presence. I almost felt like running away even though there were only three other people in the waiting area, including the reception desk lady. But remembering my situation I pushed through.
The difference in the decor was noticeable. Rack full of accolades, couple of abstract artworks, a book case, and couple of chairs. One of them was occupied by a middle aged lady, probably late forties, and the other one was empty – intended for me. ‘Good Afternoon, Mr. Bhatia’, she said. I mumbled my greeting while taking the empty seat. ‘So let’s begin, shall we’; and with that remark my first, session began.
When I got up that morning I had half a mind to cancel my appointment with the shrink (for some reason I just can’t bring myself to call them psychiatrists). But now there was no going back.
‘So Mr. Bhatia, Geetha informed me that you had a serious issue with insomnia’, she stated that as a matter of fact. ‘We haven’t even started yet, what makes you think it is serious?’ I asked perturbed by her remark, while also thinking, ‘so that’s what all-in-one lady is called’, “Geetha”. ‘I would reserve my judgment till the end of this session. But I think it’s you who thinks this is serious or you wouldn’t be sitting in that chair Mr. Bhatia. ‘Fair enough’, I thought. ‘Well I suppose so’. ‘But before we begin I need to tell you that I already know why I can’t sleep and it’s a lot weirder than an extra shot of cappuccino’. ‘Then what do you need my help for?’, she asked puzzled. ‘ I need you …. to help me get rid of it.’, I pleaded. ‘Okay let’s start with what you feel, is the cause of insomnia’, she said somewhat amused. ‘I see a man in my dreams and he won’t let me sleep’.
I swear to God, if she could have raised her eyebrows just a tad more, they would’ve disappeared behind her hairline. ‘Alright Mr. Bhatia as a patient you already had my attention now you even have my curiosity, could you please give some details to that statement.
‘It all started ten days ago, I saw a man in my dream, waving his hands, shouting at me’. ‘Is that it ….’, she inquired. ’Well again the next day, and the day after that….’ After some convincing on my part (that I wasn’t making this up) she caved, rather amused though, and asked me to start over’. So this time I went to as much detail as possible.
‘For the first few nights I wasn’t really sure, I thought it was just a strange dream. To be frank I barely remembered much the next morning. But then it happened again and again and again. It was like a silhouette of a man, like someone appearing from a dense fog, just a shadow. I think it was the fourth day when I realized that I’ve been having the same dream. Same terrifying nightmare every night. Initially I wasn’t sure if it said anything’. ‘IT ‘, she interrupted ‘and not him?’ ‘Well frankly I thought he was a zombie’. ’Please continue, what did it do?’ She prompted with particular emphasis on it. ‘It threw its hands in the air. And I also think that it was speaking’, I replied in the same vein. ‘What…?’, ‘I mean what did it … he say?’ she asked catching the sarcasm in my tone. I don’t know it was all gibberish as if his lips were stapled’, I answered with a hint of impatience creeping in my voice. ‘Hmm …..’ and she left that hanging for about half a minute, ‘Is there any difference whatsoever between your dreams. Maybe not over two consecutive days, but say the most recent and the earliest one you could recall’, she asked her curiosity rising. Is she a doctor or a journalist, I thought to myself. ‘A little, that figure is a lot clearer now. Like a dark black shape almost like someone coming into a dark alley from the street. And the noise like words coming out of an old badly tuned radio’, I said hoping this might help her help me (wow!! talk about another standard line). ‘I know we’ve been over this but, can you think of anything or anyone, maybe at work, that could be triggering this’, she asked a little exasperated. ‘OH COME ON! Not back to this again’, anguish clear in my voice. ‘I told you already – my job isn’t great but it isn’t bad either, the pay about covers my expenses and the people are decent too ……., hell it’s because of my boss that I haven’t tried shifting yet’. ‘Okay maybe some one particular, trying to reach out to you’, she suggested. I thought of the cubicle 131 again, but immediately discarded the fantasy. ‘No, I am sure that isn’t the case’, I said almost shouting.
‘Deep you say all this goes back ten days. Correct.’ She asked verifying the already verified fact. ‘Yes’, I said with all the patience I could muster. ‘And you are sure nothing happened that day that could, you know…’, she hinted for the third time in the past, ‘Crap it has been 40 minutes only, GOD’, I thought I had been sitting for hours. ‘Look Dr. Gupta how about I recollect my day for you again. Then you, being the expert here, can tell me if something that happened that day could be screwing with my head’, this time I didn’t even try hiding what I thought of her session. ‘Very well then’, she said calmly but with signs of irritation showing on her face.
‘I got up at six in the morning and went for a jog. It was as eventful as it had ever been. I was back in an hour. The power was out so couldn’t turn on the geyser and my bath got postponed. Made myself a cup of tea and sat down with the newspaper. The power was back around nine. Since my clothes also needed ironing I was sure to be late. Normally I would take the metro but given the circumstances I opted for a cab as that’s faster. But just as I was about to get in an old lady fainted on the street. I was late already but nonetheless I got her into my cab and got her admitted to the nearby hospital. Got her son’s number from her purse, called him and left for work when he arrived. And before you jump to any conclusions the old lady is fine, I called the son’s number again in the evening to check and that was the last I heard from them.’ I said all this in a single rant, suddenly realizing that – I was out of breath, thirsty, and it was over an hour into the session.
I could see the “good doctor” looking at her watch. Then she looked at me and probably guessed what I was thinking. ‘Please don’t mind the time unless you need to be somewhere, I have another hour before my next appointment’, she said. ‘As if you are not going to charge me for the extra time’, but this I kept to myself. ‘So, you say you were late to work – how did your boss take it?’, she inquired. ‘Finally new, but again useless, question’, I thought. ‘He was fine, like I told you he is a reasonable person. When I told him the whole incident he was actually quite pleased over my actions.’ … ‘So…..?’ Now it was my turn to leave the question hanging, hoping for any straw to catch hold. ‘Deep honestly, from what you have told me, I really don’t see anything that should be troubling you.’ `But then this is not an exact science’, she added calmly (Is this International Cliché Day).’ Maybe you need to consider the possibility that your nightmare is exactly that, a nightmare.’ I would prescribe something to help you sleep, for this week. But do not continue them without further consultation as these can have serious side-effects’, she warned me while scratching something in the notepad (something she didn’t do a whole lot during the session). She pushed a button and Geetha arrived in response and took the doctor’s note. ‘You can take the prescription from Geetha outside, and she would also help with your billing’, she said with a smile. I left the room, and fifteen minutes later the building never to return again.
‘So how long this has been happening’, she asked. I told her , ‘it has been ten days’.
‘And it is always the same, or…’; she just left it hanging. I hate it when she does that. ‘Well like I said, earlier it was vague, faded, like a watermark and now a lot clearer but essentially … yeah, it’s always the same’, I explained.
‘Okay Deep, may I call you Deep’. I said she could. I admit that even though I have met people with similar issues but I can say, and quite honestly so, that this situation of yours “in entirety” is a first’, she said sounding more amused than rattled, contrary to what I had expected. But her frank remark made me even more uneasy, or maybe it’s just the ambiance.
My name is Deepvrath Bhatia, I know sounds like a priest’s name. But the truth is far from it. Easiest way to describe me would be to call me a poster boy for “the regular guy”, you know – decent acads, leave school at 18, finish college by 21, get a job, rent an apartment and constantly worry about the future. Coming back to my predicament, I’ve been having a little problem, which would be euphemism for I can’t sleep.
For the past 10 days I haven’t managed more than a couple of hours shut eye per night. Truth be told, now, I am too afraid to sleep.
Initially I chalked down my problem to the regular demons – ‘too much work’, ‘worrying about the future’, particularly worrying about no possibility of a future with the girl in cubicle 131’ and so on. But when the issue continued for a week, I confided in a close friend, Kunal. “Bhai tu to pagal ho gaya hai” (man you are losing it), was his almost instant reaction. Once he calmed down he gave me some advice, it confirmed that he really thought I am losing it. With no end in sight to this torment, and as a last resort, I took it. Latter regretted it.
On the ninth day I called Dr. Preethi Gupta’s office and confirmed an appointment for the next day. I reached there about ten minutes early. I approached a woman who looked like a receptionist, a secretary and, a nurse all rolled into one. Or at least that may have been the attempted look. She politely informed me that the doctor was with another patient and will join me shortly (talk about standard lines). And she did it in a, what could only be described as, well-rehearsed tone. I sat down and started browsing through that day’s newspaper, which I had already read cover to cover in the morning. Getting bored I started looking around. It wasn’t a bad office, not bad at all. It was roomy with comfortable sitting arrangements, a water cooler and a receptionist’s desk for the all in one lady. All this wrapped within light brown colored walls. ‘Hmm! Must be doing pretty well’, I thought to myself, all the while thanking that the medical insurance covers visits to a shrink. `Mr. Bhatia’, `Mr. Bhatia’. The lone officer called out from behind the desk, and I acknowledged by raising my hand. ‘It’s your turn to see the doctor’. ’Please take the door on the right’, she said pointing needlessly towards a door, to her right, with the doctor’s plaque. None the less I said, ‘thank you’, rising from my seat.
What is it about the shrinks that make people so ashamed to be in their presence. I almost felt like running away even though there were only three other people in the waiting area, including the reception desk lady. But remembering my situation I pushed through.
The difference in the decor was noticeable. Rack full of accolades, couple of abstract artworks, a book case, and couple of chairs. One of them was occupied by a middle aged lady, probably late forties, and the other one was empty – intended for me. ‘Good Afternoon, Mr. Bhatia’, she said. I mumbled my greeting while taking the empty seat. ‘So let’s begin, shall we’; and with that remark my first, session began.
When I got up that morning I had half a mind to cancel my appointment with the shrink (for some reason I just can’t bring myself to call them psychiatrists). But now there was no going back.
‘So Mr. Bhatia, Geetha informed me that you had a serious issue with insomnia’, she stated that as a matter of fact. ‘We haven’t even started yet, what makes you think it is serious?’ I asked perturbed by her remark, while also thinking, ‘so that’s what all-in-one lady is called’, “Geetha”. ‘I would reserve my judgment till the end of this session. But I think it’s you who thinks this is serious or you wouldn’t be sitting in that chair Mr. Bhatia. ‘Fair enough’, I thought. ‘Well I suppose so’. ‘But before we begin I need to tell you that I already know why I can’t sleep and it’s a lot weirder than an extra shot of cappuccino’. ‘Then what do you need my help for?’, she asked puzzled. ‘ I need you …. to help me get rid of it.’, I pleaded. ‘Okay let’s start with what you feel, is the cause of insomnia’, she said somewhat amused. ‘I see a man in my dreams and he won’t let me sleep’.
I swear to God, if she could have raised her eyebrows just a tad more, they would’ve disappeared behind her hairline. ‘Alright Mr. Bhatia as a patient you already had my attention now you even have my curiosity, could you please give some details to that statement.
‘It all started ten days ago, I saw a man in my dream, waving his hands, shouting at me’. ‘Is that it ….’, she inquired. ’Well again the next day, and the day after that….’ After some convincing on my part (that I wasn’t making this up) she caved, rather amused though, and asked me to start over’. So this time I went to as much detail as possible.
‘For the first few nights I wasn’t really sure, I thought it was just a strange dream. To be frank I barely remembered much the next morning. But then it happened again and again and again. It was like a silhouette of a man, like someone appearing from a dense fog, just a shadow. I think it was the fourth day when I realized that I’ve been having the same dream. Same terrifying nightmare every night. Initially I wasn’t sure if it said anything’. ‘IT ‘, she interrupted ‘and not him?’ ‘Well frankly I thought he was a zombie’. ’Please continue, what did it do?’ She prompted with particular emphasis on it. ‘It threw its hands in the air. And I also think that it was speaking’, I replied in the same vein. ‘What…?’, ‘I mean what did it … he say?’ she asked catching the sarcasm in my tone. I don’t know it was all gibberish as if his lips were stapled’, I answered with a hint of impatience creeping in my voice. ‘Hmm …..’ and she left that hanging for about half a minute, ‘Is there any difference whatsoever between your dreams. Maybe not over two consecutive days, but say the most recent and the earliest one you could recall’, she asked her curiosity rising. Is she a doctor or a journalist, I thought to myself. ‘A little, that figure is a lot clearer now. Like a dark black shape almost like someone coming into a dark alley from the street. And the noise like words coming out of an old badly tuned radio’, I said hoping this might help her help me (wow!! talk about another standard line). ‘I know we’ve been over this but, can you think of anything or anyone, maybe at work, that could be triggering this’, she asked a little exasperated. ‘OH COME ON! Not back to this again’, anguish clear in my voice. ‘I told you already – my job isn’t great but it isn’t bad either, the pay about covers my expenses and the people are decent too ……., hell it’s because of my boss that I haven’t tried shifting yet’. ‘Okay maybe some one particular, trying to reach out to you’, she suggested. I thought of the cubicle 131 again, but immediately discarded the fantasy. ‘No, I am sure that isn’t the case’, I said almost shouting.
‘Deep you say all this goes back ten days. Correct.’ She asked verifying the already verified fact. ‘Yes’, I said with all the patience I could muster. ‘And you are sure nothing happened that day that could, you know…’, she hinted for the third time in the past, ‘Crap it has been 40 minutes only, GOD’, I thought I had been sitting for hours. ‘Look Dr. Gupta how about I recollect my day for you again. Then you, being the expert here, can tell me if something that happened that day could be screwing with my head’, this time I didn’t even try hiding what I thought of her session. ‘Very well then’, she said calmly but with signs of irritation showing on her face.
‘I got up at six in the morning and went for a jog. It was as eventful as it had ever been. I was back in an hour. The power was out so couldn’t turn on the geyser and my bath got postponed. Made myself a cup of tea and sat down with the newspaper. The power was back around nine. Since my clothes also needed ironing I was sure to be late. Normally I would take the metro but given the circumstances I opted for a cab as that’s faster. But just as I was about to get in an old lady fainted on the street. I was late already but nonetheless I got her into my cab and got her admitted to the nearby hospital. Got her son’s number from her purse, called him and left for work when he arrived. And before you jump to any conclusions the old lady is fine, I called the son’s number again in the evening to check and that was the last I heard from them.’ I said all this in a single rant, suddenly realizing that – I was out of breath, thirsty, and it was over an hour into the session.
I could see the “good doctor” looking at her watch. Then she looked at me and probably guessed what I was thinking. ‘Please don’t mind the time unless you need to be somewhere, I have another hour before my next appointment’, she said. ‘As if you are not going to charge me for the extra time’, but this I kept to myself. ‘So, you say you were late to work – how did your boss take it?’, she inquired. ‘Finally new, but again useless, question’, I thought. ‘He was fine, like I told you he is a reasonable person. When I told him the whole incident he was actually quite pleased over my actions.’ … ‘So…..?’ Now it was my turn to leave the question hanging, hoping for any straw to catch hold. ‘Deep honestly, from what you have told me, I really don’t see anything that should be troubling you.’ `But then this is not an exact science’, she added calmly (Is this International Cliché Day).’ Maybe you need to consider the possibility that your nightmare is exactly that, a nightmare.’ I would prescribe something to help you sleep, for this week. But do not continue them without further consultation as these can have serious side-effects’, she warned me while scratching something in the notepad (something she didn’t do a whole lot during the session). She pushed a button and Geetha arrived in response and took the doctor’s note. ‘You can take the prescription from Geetha outside, and she would also help with your billing’, she said with a smile. I left the room, and fifteen minutes later the building never to return again.
