Since I have begun writing at neck-break speed, people who have come to see me over the years have surfaced like ghosts and seem to be cajoling me to share their stories with all of you. This has got me to listen to their recordings and I have been surprised at the variety of problems people create and then get immersed in them, oblivious to the wonderful world in which they live. I don’t feel sad I feel angry. This anger does not burn or burst but showers me with an infinite energy to help. One such person who came to see me six years ago was unique. His story was filled with borrowed grief and so it makes interesting telling. I am going to name him M.T (empty) for this is how he felt.
M.T was an engineer who worked in a reputed firm. He was a regular guy who had a wonderful wife at home and two beautiful children. His parents lived with him and he travelled regularly by train from Church Gate to Vile Parle (suburbs of Mumbai). His life was so mundane that going out for a movie was the only excitement that featured in his life. He had no friends and was generally a loner. He used to remember a time when he felt different. This was in college when he was in love with a girl. He was unable to express his love to her and the idea just wilted away. He had an arranged marriage as his parents thought, that the girl who was a doctor, was a good catch. He though self respecting, obviously did not respect the institution of marriage enough. He always had a grouse that destiny gave him a raw deal. His wife was caring and communicative but M.T was still in love, with the idea called love.
M.T’s life changed drastically on 11th July 2006. He was travelling by local train from Church gate to Vile Parle and suddenly there was a bomb blast in his compartment. This was one of the seven blasts that occurred on local trains in Mumbai in July 2006. Before the blasts occurred he was sitting near a man close to the window seat. Most of them were regulars and also occupied the same seats while travelling to work and back. They met each other in the train and shared many small but significant happenings in each other’s life. In a second M.T felt as if the compartment was ripped apart and as the smoke settled he saw his friend’s arm torn and his body leaning on his. The person opposite to him was staring at him and the smell of burnt flesh was nauseating him. He tried to get up but fell. He felt as if his legs were numb and his vision blurred. He got up and started to take a few steps. He heard some voices asking if someone was alive. A man saw him and helped him out. M.T climbed down on the tracks. He could not look behind and reply to the men asking him if there were any saviors. He continued walking in a stupor. He walked on the tracks to Dadar. He was bleeding from his ears and head. As he reached Dadar Station he hailed a cab and got in. The cabbie was curious and asked him if he needed to see a doctor but M.T refused. When he reached home he climbed up the stairs and rang the bell. That day the man who entered the house was someone else. M.T became very silent and stopped communicating with his family. He went into his shell. He was unable to laugh and play with his children. His wife suggested anti-depressants and he took them for some time. Nothing changed. He continued working and living but his heart was not in it. A year passed by.
In 2007 the first anniversary of the train blasts was being remembered and he decided to travel at the same time sit in the same place and commemorate his dead friends. For one year he had tried his best to feel normal, may be now he may just wake up from his slumber. He was lost in the past and kept seeing his friends and at one point he could even hear the blast ringing in his ears. When he got down at Vile Parle he could not forgive himself for being alive. Why I am alive, was the one question he had no answers for. He at that moment decided to die. I have no right to live is the resolve he had made.
M.T. began to plan his death. He knew that he would have to collect tranquilizers from the chemist and store them. His mother had a prescription from a doctor for her anxiety and he could use it to buy more strips. He began to buy them regularly and store them in his office briefcase. He did not want his wife to land in trouble with the cops and so he wrote one letter to the cops that he was responsible for taking his life and no one was responsible. This letter he kept in his briefcase. He wrote another letter to his wife giving him all the bank and safe deposit details. This too was kept in his case. He surveyed the calendar to check for the best dates to end his life. This he decided was two months later. His parents were going to their native village and his wife and children would be going for a wedding around the same time. He marked the date in his calendar in his briefcase. Time went on. He enjoyed playing with his children and even improved his relationship with his wife. There was harmony after so many years. Funny when he had decided to leave this world he was befriending. Such is the power of death! It can suddenly make to want to enjoy life.
The day arrived and he went to the temple early in the morning. He bid goodbye to his parents and packed his unsuspecting wife and children. The house was empty now. He had a bath and sat on the bed. He opened his briefcase and took out both the letters and placed them on the bed. He took out the tranquilizers and emptied 65 pills in a plate. He has a jug of water at his bedside and started taking the pills. Ten... ten more …ten more till all of the 65 pills were swallowed. He lay down and waited for his body to become cold. He was at the gates of heaven when someone shook him up. His wife had returned for she had forgotten her purse. Being a doctor with lightening speed she got him to the nearby hospital. All the toxins flushed out till he was sanitized. Lying on the hospital bed he looked at the ceiling. His wife was asking him the reason for taking such a step. She thought everything was fine. M.T slowly spoke about his depressive feelings and guilt for being a survivor of the blasts. His wife realized that he needed psychotherapeutic help. This is when he came to see me.
When such a client arrives at my clinic I only ask when he is going to kill himself again. Does he have a plan now? I asked M.T the same. He just looked at me as if I was mad. He asked, “do you think I should kill myself?’ I said,”Well, you wanted to, so I am hoping your next plan is foolproof. It’s foolish to survive because you have to answer so many people who will then dissuade you. So, are you certain you want to die? For if there is any reason why you want to live, no tranquilizer will kill you not fire will burn you and no height will vanquish you. Gently I say, “Maybe you want to live and so you didn’t die. May be we should talk about why deep down you want to live?’
M.T looked at me again and smiled. He said, ‘Maybe you are right, maybe I do want to live. There are many unfulfilled dreams which I want to fulfill’. That day M.T began to speak about his dreams and wishes and desires and when this happens the thought of death dies. M.T. had a couple of sessions and he was laughing and hugging his wife chatting with her about his dreams for them. He was going to live right and make his life an example for many.
Sure, we may read about blasts and bombs, death and destruction but aren’t we also reading about happiness and joyful events, progress and change, celebrations and beauty. I wonder why we forget this when anxiety and trauma strikes us. I know this kind of behavior is called post traumatic syndrome and it can raise its hood anytime in one’s life but should be look at the reasons that we have to live rather than those which prompt us to die?.
We are living in a world where ugly events are going to occur and we need to prepare ourselves to face them. We need to create spiritual centers in colleges, corporate and media houses and maybe even on street corners where counselors can open shop in the evening and help passer-by’s. It’s time that we think out of the box and aid in the strengthening of the mental fabric of the person. M.T. is doing great of this now. He has forsaken the idea of death and accepted life. I am hoping that all those who read this will begin to prepare their mind for all eventualities which could precipitate the idea called death.
Open your shop to sell life!
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