Who are you
“It’s 1982, in a small village near Berhampur in Odisha. I appear to be a 20-year-old, filled with regret for my mistake.”
An interrupting voice asks me, “What kind of mistake?”
“I don’t know, but it seems like I have hurt someone close to me. She is standing in front of me, crying. She approaches me, still crying. This helpless situation overwhelms me. She holds a knife in her hands and moves closer to me, hugging me. With a sharp vegetable cutting knife, her eyes ask questions. Suddenly, she stabs me.”
“No!” I shout and wake up.
“Calm down, take a deep breath, and relax. Feeling better now?” the doctor asks me.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Raghu, I think it’s an illusion. Let’s start from the beginning. Do you recognize the girl in your imagination?”
“I don’t think so, doc.”
“That’s alright. I’ll prescribe some medication to help you stay calm. Our next session will be next Friday.”
......................................................
For years, I have been attending sessions with Dr. N. Mathus, a skilled psychologist. I don’t know where to find a solution for this recurring dream. I live in Star-Shine society, own a house, have a well-deserving job, and lead a somewhat luxurious life. However, I feel trapped in a daily routine that I appear to like, but deep down, I don’t think I truly enjoy it. My dad is a martial artist who taught me how to fight, but it seems pointless now. There’s more to me that remains unknown.
It’s a pleasant day, and at the same time, it’s Friday, the day of my therapy session. I don’t like having to go to an unknown person and describe my fears and weaknesses, but it’s a requirement in our company. So, reluctantly, I have to do it. I head downstairs to my car, and I notice a group of rowdy guys searching for someone in the basement. Normally, I wouldn’t get involved in other people’s matters, but when I see her hiding near my car, I decide to help. Like any other man, I can’t stand seeing a girl in trouble, and I’m no exception. To assist her, I wait in the basement until the guys leave. Once they’re gone, I tell her, “They’re gone now, you can come out.”
She steps out, visibly shaken. What a girl! Sorry, I didn’t mean to analyze her, but I have to describe her. She’s cute, with eyes that speak to my heart, urging me to help her until the end of my life.
In a fearful voice, she says, “Thank you. Can you help me one more time?”
“Of course,” I reply.
I take her to my house upstairs, offer her a seat, thinking it would help her relax. However, she starts crying, and I’m at a loss for how to console her. I decided to get her some fruit juice from my house.
“Let’s have some juice and try to relax,” I suggest. And offered a glass of juice.
“Thanks,” she replies, holding the glass with both hands. She starts drinking the juice slowly. It’s quite hot in Bangalore, and the climate in May is unbearable without air conditioning. So, I turn on the AC and, as soon as it starts, she drops the glass and begins crying again. Something terrible must have happened to her. I sit in front of her, on my knees, holding her hand, and in a calm voice, I ask, “What happened to you? Why are you so afraid? Whom are you trying to hide from?”
In a teary voice, she says, “I can’t trust you.”
Her words strike me deeply. I’ve helped her, yet she still can’t trust me. So, I ask again, “What can I do to earn your trust?”
“I don’t know whom to trust and whom not to,” she replies. With that, she withdraws her hand from mine, I sit down, and tell her, “You can trust me. I’ll help you out.”
She gives me a sarcastic smile and adds, “You can’t.”
I’m now determined to find out what’s actually happening. All the questions are swirling in my mind. In this present situation, I hear a knocking sound, and she becomes scared, searching for a place to hide. I ask her to go to my room while I handle the situation. After she reaches the room, I open the door to find a guy from Dr. Mathus’ office.
“What happened, Raghu? Today is your session day,” he says.
“I’m not feeling well, so I missed the session,” I reply.
“Alright, the doctor sent your medications.”
“Thanks, I’ll see you in the next session.”
“Okay.”
He leaves after handing me the medicine, and I close the door.
It’s noon, and I decide to prepare lunch for her. I start making some rice with butter paneer masala. As I prepare onion and tomato puree, I realize how much I enjoy cooking. Cooking is one of my hobbies. Once I finish cooking, I knock on her room door. She comes out, holding a small lamp in her hands.
“Don’t be scared. There’s no one here,” I console her. She places the lamp on the couch near her and asks me, “Who was there?”
“No one. He was just a friend who wanted to see me, but he’s gone now,” I explain.
“Okay.”
“Come and have some lunch,” I invite her. She nods and sits comfortably at the dining table. I serve her food and sit on the couch near the dining table. With a calm voice, I ask, “What is your name?”
She eats as if she hasn’t had a proper meal in years. With food still in her mouth, she replies, “Shree...... And yours?”
“I’m Ragu Ram.”
After that, silence fills the room until she finishes her meal. Breaking the silence, I ask her, “What happened to you?” She walks toward my drawing room without answering my question...
She noticed the medicines on the table and became frightened. Hastily, she started packing her bags. Intrigued, I approached her and asked, ‘What happened?’
She replied, ‘Do you have any idea which drug you are consuming?’
‘It’s for my nightmares,’ I replied.
‘You’re also trapped, Bablu. It’s not what you think. It’s something far more dangerous.’
With these words, she began walking toward the door. I caught her hand and asked, ‘Where are you going, and what is this medication about?’
She pulled her hand away and hugged me, whisper in my ears, ‘I have to leave, Bablu. Please don’t try to stop me. It’s Subliminex. Stop using it.’
And then, she left...
