Hii.. I am Drashti
~Prologue~
Nandini's Pov
I wait my turn on the
chair outside the doctor's office. The psychiatrist, to be precise. The
so-called expert. Getting an appointment here is like getting an appointment to
meet the Pope at the Vatican City. I don't know how many months one has to wait
to get an appointment for that. I am told many months. It is one of the best
mental health care centres in India. Or so I have been told. Perhaps it is.
Every magazine and every newspaper seems to mention it and quote its expert
doctors on anything to do with mental health. I sit and watch my surroundings.
There is a blue board with large white letters proclaiming the name of the
mental health institute, which is spread over a sprawling campus of ten acres,
full of old buildings with fading yellow paint, dingy corridors, trees, bushes,
even a cafeteria and scores of vehicles in which patients arrive with their
families in search of hope.
In me, there is none
left. There is only despondency and an increasing feeling of frustration.
I notice the peeling
paint again. It looks like any other hospital and there is nothing to suggest
that it is a mental hospital, except of course if you observe the signs and the
people. I hate it all. It fills me with a kind of dread. I don't belong here. I
ought not to even be here in the first place. But I am, and there is nothing I
can do about it. My dad approaches the counter and joins the serpentine queue
which seems to be inching forward at the pace of a snail and I read the board
at the entrance on which the following is written in bold letters:
"Patients visiting National Mental
Health Institute for the first time are requested to register themselves at
this block for consultation/ treatment.
Registration is carried out between 8:00
A.M and 11:00 A.M on all days except Sundays and certain specific holidays.
Please observe queue."
I realize with a sinking
feeling that the patient now refers to me. I feel helpless. I feel lost. I feel
angry. And in my mind I think that the whole mental health institute thing is
bull shit. Hype. They talk nonsense and have no clue as to what they are doing
or saying. I don't want to be here. I don't want to see any psychiatrist or
doctor. My opinion now does not matter anymore. I had my chance and I screwed
it up badly. Now I have no choice except to listen to my parents and go along
with whatever they suggest. So much for my attempts at being independent. So
much for my attempts at being an adult.
I sit between my mother
and father. I feel like a kid but I am 21, a full grown adult. At least
technically. The chair is made of metal and feels cold. I try to hide the scars
on my wrist, that had a dried blood clot, but it really didn't affect me at
all. Curious stares and worse, the looks of pity irk me. I don't want any of
it. Especially, not now. Especially, not today. I don't regret my past actions
at all. Physical pain is far easier to bear than mental agony.
I look at the anguish on
my dad's face and the look of constant worry on my mother's brow, just like
those unwanted notices stuck on the roadside walls. I don't feel sorry for them
at all, though I am supposed to be. I don't even wish I could erase them. I
don't want to comfort them or make them feel better. I am helpless. Beyond
caring. I don't give a damn. I want it all to END. I don't want to see yet
another doctor. I am tired of it all. What is this doctor going to tell me that
others haven't?
I look at the
other patients waiting their turns outside. There are at least one hundred and
sixty or maybe more. The waiting room is actually a long cavernous hall about
fifty feet by thirty feet and there are iron chairs arranged in rows, one
behind the other. It seemslike the waiting room at a railway station
and just as crowded too. There is a guy sitting on the chair with his arms
round his legs, rocking back and forth, back and forth. There is a girl who
looks around my age staring listlessly outside. "I am not like you. I won
elections in my college. I used to be the Secretary of the Arts Association. I
was doing my management from a fine business school. I am not like you all." I
want to scream at all of them. I want to tell them that I am a somebody, at
least in my world which consists of college, home, friends, fun, movies"the
normal world, not this hospital where people who cannot cope come to seek help.
I am educated', superior, knowledgeable, and smart. The pathetic, helpless
situation that I am finding myself in is somehow making me want to prove that I
am better than all of them. But it feels like somebody has stuffed a cloth in
my mouth to prevent me from talking. I am unable to say anything. At the back
of my mind I also realize that in reality, maybe I am in no way better than
them. I am a nobody. Here I am just a patient, waiting in turn with scores of
others, waiting simply to see the doctor.
The psychiatrist inside
will assess me and decide the next course of action. What does he know? Can he
look into my head? Does he even know what I am going through? Does medical
school teach you to feel another's pain or step into their shoes? Most of the
doctors I have spoken to are impersonal and clinical. They are trained to be
so. I highly doubt if this one is going to be any different. Eventually, the
nurse calls out my patient number. No one gives a damn about my name or what I
used to be. I rise to enter his office.
I read the name plate
outside the cabin: Dr. Manik Malhotra.
I smiled slightly and
whispered under my breath "Manik..." and entered...
To be continued...
********************
No no no..dont think that manik must have ditched nandu and she would be
mentallyaffectedand now he will heal her and gain her forgiveness..
no a big FAT NO.But ya the way she
smiled and took his name before entering..it means they know each other. they
are not strangers..So think think How
come nandu had to knocked at the doorsteps of a mental health care..???And will
manik be able to regain herself back to her..??
This story show determination can make miracles happen. The concept
is from one of the books of Great Indian Author Preeti Shenoy. But it didn't had
any love storyand the whole book is in a
girl's pov so i thought to do a little modification and gave a MaNan touch to
it..
Now tell me who all are willing to be with me in this
journey..?? Plz do read like and comment and let me know should i continue..??
and ya i want to ask is the name ok..?? if not then do suggest me one.Waiting for your response
Love
Drashtiđ
~I N D E X~
Chapter 2 : Dancing in the Dark
Chapter 4A : Various Relationship
Chapter 4B : My world(Manik's POV)
Chapter 6A : Deeper down Bottomless Pit
Chapter 6B : End or Determination???
Chapter 7 : The Light Goes Out
Chapter 12 : Faith and Friends
Anupamaa
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
