1993:
“What are you looking at K?”, Papa
asked me as I stared at the rains with tear-filled eyes.
“I want to go play in the rain.”
“Then go play, beta. Who is stopping
you?”
“But Maa will scold me.” I pointed
at Maa who was angrily looking at me from the other end of the dining table.
“But she can’t scold me. Come, let’s
get drenched.” I squealed with delight, while Papa and I ran downstairs and
played in the rain like crazy.
After this episode, Life intervened.
Papa continued working too hard to provide for us and we got busy growing up.
We got so busy with Life that we never got a chance to play in the rain again.
2013:
“K, Papa has been talking endlessly
and randomly.” Mom worriedly informed me one morning on the phone.
“Randomly?” I asked
“Yes. He has been like this for the
past few days. He has been telling me things that are about 3 decades old. Last
night he was talking about A's childhood suddenly. Before that he had abruptly
gone quiet for about a week talking only a few sentences in between.” Mom
informed.
I think when you are away from your
parents, you become closer to them. I sensed the panic in Mom's voice and left
for Mumbai immediately. For the first time in 5 years (after my marriage) I
wasn’t welcomed home with open arms and smiling faces. Instead, an
indescribable situation unfolded itself brutally. When Maa opened the door, I
was welcomed by a frail man with a sunken face. I looked at him, hoping for a
smile. Instead, my father kept staring at me with an uncomprehending gaze. With
a sharp pang, I realized that he did not even recognize me and moreover, he
looked visibly upset that someone strange was in his house.
“Papa? How are you?” I asked as
tears rolled down my cheeks.
The frame of my father simply walked
away and sat on the bed quietly. I followed him and grabbed his hand. He lifted
his head and looked at me, trying hard to recognize me. It strained his mind.
But soon a pale smile spread across his face.
“K, is that you?” He whispered.
“Yes, Papa, it is me. What took you
so long?” I asked with a lump in my throat.
“I don’t know. Something is
happening to me. I am unable to tell you.” Helplessness choked my father's
tongue.
“Don’t worry. I am here now. You
will be fine.”
Deep within my heart I knew that something
was wrong, terribly wrong. I called up my siblings and spoke to them. Both of them
were away and all we could do was to try our best to do what we can in our
individual capacities. We arrived at a conclusion that may be meeting a
neurologist could help Papa. I felt a throbbing pain in my chest. The man I had
always seen strong and healthy had suddenly reduced to a piece of bone with
little understanding of what was happening to him. His appetite had reduced,
which was quite visible in his health. His memory had turned dizzy to such an
extent that he had forgotten that a tablet is swallowed and not chewed.
The appointment with the neurologist
was just another blow to our deteriorating situation. Never in my wildest dream
did I ever think that I will be told something so horrible, so bluntly. The
neurologist – Dr. Bharucha - was a well-known doctor in
his late 70s. He had a reputation of being grounded and empathetic. He studied Papa’s
case for a few minutes. Soon after, he wanted to have a conversation with me, alone.
You know that something is not right when the doctor says, "Aapse akele
mein baat karni hai". After Maa and Papa left the room, Dr. Bharucha's
face turned pensive. He leaned forward from his chair and looked straight at
me. I can still recall his gaze, his eyes, and his husky voice.
“You must see a psychiatrist.” He
said. All hell broke loose. The world around me came shattering down to pieces.
“Psychiatrist? What do you mean?” I
revolted as I tried to gather myself.
“It is a case of depression, K.”
“Depression? Do you even know who he
is? He is a retired scientist with
patents to his name. Do you even know what you are talking about?”
“Yes. I know. And now as you tell me
that he is a retired scientist, I can connect the dots. You must see a
psychiatrist as early as possible. People with analytical bent of mind often
encounter this.”
"No. That cannot be true".
"K, as a daughter I understand that it is difficult for you to see your
father like this. But denial will lead you nowhere. He needs help and you must
do as I say".
I was annoyed and abruptly walked
out of Dr. Bharucha’s plush cabin, my head doing all kinds of hoops. There are
a few occasions in life that makes you pity doctors. It must be so difficult
for them to deal with people and situations like me. I am sure that a part of
Dr. Bharucha ached when he disclosed Papa’s condition to me. As I reached home,
I could not contain it any longer. I broke down in front of my mother. I cried,
like I had never cried before. My mother hugged me tight and tried comforting
me.
“We will see a psychiatrist, K. What
is wrong in it? Why do you have that inhibition?” Mom told me while wiping my
tears. “If that is what it is going to take to bring back your father to us, we
must do it.”
I wondered if Maa had some super
powers. How could she not break down? We siblings were broken and frightened. I
am sure that deep inside, she felt shaken too. Yet, as always, there she was,
standing strong in the face of this adversity that stormed into our lives
without any warning. She was our strength, she had always been, I realized.
Finding a psychiatrist in no joke in
India. With so much taboo surrounding mental illness, finding a psychiatrist is
like finding God. Nonetheless, a psychiatrist was referred by a close relative
in Mumbai. Though I was unsure of him, I had very little choice. We had been
told that he will be able to help us and that he has cured several patients in
the past.
We arrived on time for our
appointment. Papa sat next to me, frightened. It reminded me of my childhood.
As a kid, I hated going to the doctor and whenever I was taken, I would sit
quietly like a timid child. How time had changed and turned upon us!
The clinic was filled with gloomy
faces eagerly waiting to break free from the illness that caged them. If I had
seen those people in a crowd, I wouldn't have ever known that each one of
them was fighting a battle within themselves, I reflected. On the outside, you
are a healthy person, and given a chance, the world will try to hurt you. I
could relate to each one of them sitting there. They say difficulties make you
compassionate. I realized it to be true.
The doctor finally arrived. I must take time to describe this doctor. Not much
about his physique or his suffocating clinic room, but more about the cloud of
arrogance that surrounded him. We had waited patiently for about an hour for
him. Then the receptionist gestured to us that we could go see him.
We entered his cabin, took our seat,
and I explained everything to him. He did not even bother to ask any questions.
After listening to my description about the change in Papa, he announced that
my Papa’s case was a lost one, that there was no hope for him, that such
patients lead a very miserable life and that very little could be done for them.
He wrote about 4 tablets and suggested that we start him on them immediately.
He didn’t bother to explain anything. Seeing the long queue of patients
impatiently waiting for him, I took my dad and walked out of the room. Unsure
if I was doing the right thing, I started dad’s medicine. Of course, I did not
trust this doctor much and decided against following him blindly. To no
surprise, after just two doses of his medicines, dad started sleeping
continuously for hours together. He lost his ability to speak clearly and
blabbered in sleep. Instead of improving his condition, it had worsened due to
the tablets.
Losing all hope, I called up my
husband who was anchoring me emotionally through all this. R calmed me down and
suggested that we speak to our family doctor in Bangalore. Sometimes God speaks
through your loved ones. R's advice worked. To my disbelief, I was informed
that the long list of medicines that were prescribed for Papa were nothing but
sedatives, rather, different forms of sleeping pills.
“Sleeping pills? What?” I asked in
disbelief.
“Yes, these are sleeping pills to
sedate him and make him lethargic and sleepy. Many doctors do this and the
patient’s family thinks that the patient is feeling relaxed, hence the sleep” Said
my doctor from the other end of the line.
I was furious. My blood boiled. I
felt cheated. But in a situation where my father on one end was sedated and my
mother was putting up a brave front, I had no choice but to attend to them. I
immediately informed R about the cruelty that was served to my father. R
suggested that I get my father to Bangalore so that we could consult a better
doctor. I knew he was right and that my father also needed a change of place.
We left for Bangalore in two days. Every minute of those 2 days of my life were
spent praying. I prayed while I slept, while I ate, and while I did all I could
to keep Papa happy.
As soon as I reached Bangalore, I
booked an appointment with Dr. Srinivas – a well known psychiatrist. The way
things had shaped up, I wasn’t hopeful. But Maa kept on telling me that it was
just a phase. That God was just testing us, our patience, and our love for each
other. Maa was perhaps right. Meeting Dr. Srinivas turned out to be the best
decision of our lives.
Dr. Srinivas is a compassionate doctor and is sensitive towards his patients.
He doesn't quite believe in medicines as much as he does in care and affection.
He spoke to papa and made an effort to understand his history with me. He was
both patient and considerate.
“Hmmmm!!! Nothing to worry. This is
a borderline case of depression. I am glad you discovered it soon. He will be
fine. All he needs is a loving environment, and some work to keep him
occupied.”
“Was I hearing things? Isn’t dad the
classic lost and hopeless case?” my head scramed.
“Are you sure, doctor?” I blurted.
“Of course!” He insisted.” Just take
this one tablet I have prescribed and see me after two weeks. I am certain by
then he will be fine. Be around him. He is feeling lost without his kids.”
“Kids?”
“Yes. You siblings have all settled
in your lives and your father now finds himself lost, away from you all. That’s
all. My father had a similar case, K. He just needs at least one of you around.
He needs to do something to be busy.”
I nodded and walked out of the room.
Dad held my hand and I held his hand tighter because, I, his child, was scared
too. We walked towards our car and as we walked Dr. Srinivas’s words echoed in
my ears - Papa was missing us, his kids!
For the next two weeks Papa improved
significantly. In fact, within a week the change was visible. Slowly yet
steadily he started talking like he did before his illness. His diet improved
and so did his health. He started reading again. And we started our debates on
environment, politics, war, religion etc, again. Our consultation with
Dr.Srinivas also continued albeit less frequently because Dr.Srinivas insisted
that my father didn’t need a doctor anymore.
During our last visit he congratulated
my father on his fitness and amazing will power. Papa actually didn’t need any
medicine or any doctor anymore. He was fine.
"Mr. Singh, I like saying this to my patients. Please don't see me
again." Dr. Srinivas laughed.
Papa beamed and wished the doctor well. As papa left the room after the
consultation, Dr. Srinivas gestured me to stay back.
“Your father is fine, fit, and super
fine. He just needs loads of love and care. Give him that. Your father once
told me that you look like his mother.” Dr. Srinivas giggled.
I laughed through my tears. “Yes, he
often tells me the same.”
“Then it’s time to be just that,
strict and gentle like his mother. Let him do all that he likes doing. Get him
more books. Keep his mind occupied and spend time with him” Dr. Reddy smiled.
“Thank you, doctor. I will forever
be indebted to you.” The lump in my throat appeared again but my emotions were
conveyed through my eyes.
I walked out of the room beaming
with joy and saw my papa smiling at me. He looked so lovely, so handsome. His
dimpled cheek shone with all its might. He was standing right in front of my
eyes, hale and hearty and not to forget, happy too. This time, I held his hand
and he held it tighter, aware of my emotions.
That evening it poured in Bangalore.
The aroma of pakoras filled the room as mom served them hot. Everything was
finally getting normal. A battle was won. My hero had come out
victorious. I stood gazing outside the balcony, overwhelmed with the
series of events that had unfolded in the past few months. The daughter in me
felt like her world had finally come together, again.
“What are you looking at K?” Papa
asked me as I stared at the rain with tear filled eyes.
“I want to go play in the rain,
today.”
“Then go play beta. Who is stopping
you?”
“But Maa?” I pointed at Maa who was
watching me with tear-filled eyes from the other end of the dining table.
“I told you she can never scold me.”
“Papa!”
“Come, LET”S GET..... DRENCHED!!”
It rained heavily that evening and a father and his darling daughter let all
their pain wash away through their eyes.
