“…keep everything aside, Mr David. Stop ruminating over your past for a long, or else you’ll sabotage your own future. Those who are gone, are gone. They are never going to come again. Just perform your part well with full dedication and zeal, live your life the ideal way, and make this world a better place to live - not just for you, but for everyone!” Doctor uttered in a modestly stern tone.
“But how is it possible Dr? It’s not!!!
I am heartbroken. The girl I loved the most, gave a major portion of my heart, watched
& planned all my future with, and tied my soul with an inextricable divine
love’s string, has mercilessly left me to die – has ditched my heart into the ruthless
bin of infidelity, and harrowingly cut my love’s string with her cheating’s sharp-edged
sword. I feel like the most depressed soul in this world. And I am finding it
troublesome to even pay attention to the trivial everyday things.” I responded.
“Hold on, breathe deep, Mr David. Have
some water. All be fine.” Dr replied in a caring
tone. I could sense pity in her eyes, and at the same time, her experience-rich
determination, pointing to her prowess in tackling such cases.
.
.
.
“I hope you are feeling good now. Tell
me, what has happened? How did things unfold? What is that thing in your
life that has mutilated your mental health this grievously?” Dr asked.
I kept silent for a couple of minutes as if I had overheard her burst of questions. Kept looking into oblivion,
and unnecessarily slurped the full glass of water; coz I was afraid, or better
say didn’t actually want to respond to the poignant questions that she had
posed.
.
.
.
I gradually pulled myself up, gathered
courage and power from every corner of my body, and began to narrate my ordeal.
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| https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-doctor-talking-the-patient-7579831/ |
“I met Lisa exactly two years ago. I
still fondly remember all the golden firsts – our first hello, first text, first
handshake, first conversation…oh my…the list is huge. It just feels so surreal
and shattered at the same time to reminisce all those treasure-worthy memories
again. Surreal for witnessing heaven on earth during those days, and shattered
for accepting the fact that those moments of sheer peace and divine pleasure
will never come again. We had a profoundly wonderful time together. Times when
we expressed all our feelings, embraced each other as if it was the last
day of our life, talked & listened to each other on a myriad range of topics,
and on cheesy days, pamper and took care of each other as if we were lil kids. We went for holidays together and explored the phenomenal beauty of most
of northern and western India. Our love, that was quite an ode to those places,
added million more scintillating colors to the already vivid scenes there…” (Read my post on what happens when true love arrives here)
A tiny teardrop fell down my eyes,
and unfortunately, the Doctor sensed it. She gestured to me with a gentle caring smile,
and her eyes said - all be fine soon, Mr David. Take a deep breath, and take your
time.
.
.
.
“She..h..u..sed to be…ah…my…world,
doctor!” I gathered all my energy but couldn’t control my eyes to go wet all
again, and this time really bad. A deluge of tears flowed down my eyes, bringing
all the trillion-dollar memories, and the dreadful times I had faced in the
past eight months in front of my eyes.
.
.
.
“I used to love her with all my heart.
She meant the world to me. Was my oxygen, sunshine, water…! My love for her was
purest of the pure, as pure as…Bhagat Singh’s love for motherland India.” The doctor gave
me a weird look for a second and indicated me to go on. “I do agree that I
wasn’t the most perfect guy in the world. I wasn’t!!! But who’s that perfect,
doctor? I had some limitations & weaknesses. At times, I used to behave in
the way that she hate (in fact, I myself hate), but this all was infinitesimal
in contrast to the affection I had for her. I would raise my voice at times when
I was really annoyed; but in the next 15-20-30 minutes, if not the very next, I
would apologize, and apologize with all my heart. I never wanted to hurt
her, not even unintentionally (intentionally, no question). I wanted to give
her all of this worldly and the next worldly happiness. I tried my
best to remind her every single day with sensible compliments that she was the
most gorgeous girl in the universe (oh my…she actually was), that she was the girl
with exceptional talents, an impressive skill set, and a commendably high IQ. I
kept telling her, especially in the early mornings and late evenings right in bed that she’s really the girl who’s no lesser than an angel from God’s
land. She was a gem of an artist. She used to draw jaw-droppingly magnificent oil-on-canvas
paintings that had the potential to be sold for thousands of dollars in the
market. I metaphorically called her ‘Ms. Hussain’ at times, comparing her to the
all-time legend, and one of the best artists of all time – M.F. Hussain.” I
uttered in a single breath, before losing up again an outburst of emotions.
.
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| Photo by Heather Mount on Unsplash |
.
“I wanted to give her a life queen-size.
That too not an ordinary queen, but the most exquisite who has ever taken birth
in the Indian or global history. She already had got enough academic excellence,
highly in-demand skills, and mind-boggling talents to afford one on her own. So,
anyways…I just wanted to make her live a life 2X(queen-size). I wanted to gift her
all the materialistic, and more importantly the most desired intangible luxuries
in the world. Intangible luxuries in the form of my unconditional love; profound
care; keeping my ears ever ready to listen to whatever she had to say, irrespective
of my physical or mental state; and last but the most important, keeping my sacrosanct
presence (in a virtual mode or real) around her, standing bulletproof guard against
any kind of problems arising out from any of the eight sides, and rescuing her
unscathed even from the gravest of the grave situation, no matter how gruesome
it turns out for me. Anytime I would see any woman/girl out there, performing
household chores or facing the torments of her husband/family members/ boyfriend,
I would feel proud that my girl would be the most fortunate and the happiest in this. Also, I
would never let her do any of the household chores (ask/tell her to do, not even exist!), or any work of that kind, even if she would actually want to do so,
or even if that would not put any toll on her physical or mental health. It wasn’t
so because she’s a girl, but because she would be ‘my girl’! It would be my
responsibility to take the best care of her, give her a complete ‘100’ Queen-sized life, and not even compromise with a ‘99’. I would always be ready to fight
with the entire world when it would come in contest with my Lisa; and by hook
or by crook, I’d win every single time!
Having spoken volumes, that too on
such sensitive issues, I asked the doctor to excuse me for a few minutes. Went out of her cabin, walked over the beautiful lawn, mesmerized the beautiful flowers in
the garden; and prepared myself for the herculean task that I had to do now– i.e.
to narrate my actual plight.
“Things were not going well between us
in the last few weeks. It wasn’t happening for the first time, but this time neither
of us was trying on our part to make things up, engage in a healthy conversation,
and sort things out. Both of us were adamant about not paying heed to the relationship’s sand that was slowly slipping off our hands. And then came the day, the day I wish
had never come in my life– the day that mutilated my soul pushed me into the
land of severe depression, and pierced out a piece of heart from my body
permanently.”
.
.
.
“I still remember this most tragic
accident from some 8 months back, and I’ll never forget it. She had told me over
text that she’ll talk to me once she’ll be back to her hostel from college. It’s...been…ah…over…8
months Dr, she hasn’t yet, and now I am quite sure that…she never…will”. I
spoke in a broken tone.
“And this…has broken me deep within.
Has shattered my happiness into pieces, and made me permanently handicapped
from my heart. Why did she do this to me? Why didn’t she even give me a single
second to talk for the one last time? I didn’t leave any stone unturned to make
things up. I put my heart out for apologies.
I talked, plead, and begged in front of her, in all possible ways, and also in
front of all those I could, or should, to not do this to me, at least in this
formidable, unjust, and soul-wrenching manner. But no, neither she listened,
nor anyone else. And this, has, broken me, comp…lete…ly, Do…h…ctor.” I spoke as a dead man.
I had no more courage left to speak, neither I actually wanted to. All I wanted was to cry my heart out. I was so lost in misery that actually forgot there was a doctor sitting in front of me. For about an hour, I was so profusely speaking and crying, that I didn’t sense, when and how did I gradually turn my chair to the left, and started gazing over the huge Buddha’s mural placed aside her (as there were cherishing memories associated with GautamBuddha from the past).
As I brought myself to the moment and awkwardly shifted my head 60 degrees right towards her, I realized…I wasn’t the only person in the room having tears in eyes...