Excerpts from my upcoming book..
On the very first visit to Jammu and Kashmir after
more than four years, I was dying to meet my old friends with whom I had spent
my whole life. I travelled a distance of more than 700 Kms and throughout
journey I was thinking about my people and the time I spent with them. Although
I had updated my Facebook status, but many of my friends were not convinced
because I had done it before many times, so they were uncertain about me. Therefore
on reaching Jammu, I called few friends and asked them to convey message to
others to organize a get together.
The day of get-together was decided and everyone but
Dr Rishi reached on time. David, the one who was in constant contact with everyone
in the group informed us that Dr Rishi could not make it because of some
emergency at Hospital. Among all, Dr Rishi was very close to me and was also my
childhood friend. He called me to seek apology for not delivering his promise,
considering the situation I assured him a visit to hospital in personal.
I went to meet Dr Rishi at Government Medical
College and Hospital on my first visit to Jammu in four years. Nothing has been
changed in Jammu hospitals, same long queues of patients outside OPD and same
crowd of attendants roaming in the hospital. I hate visiting Dr Rishi for
multiple reasons; first he remains occupied with his noble job, secondly the
hospital environment is awful.
Thank God, Rishi received me from the emergency otherwise
I would have been lost in the wards. We proceed towards his cabin.
“Oh good to see you after a long time,” Rishi said, as
we reached in his cabin.
Same here, I said tugging stool from side.
Don’t sit on it you can use chair, Rishi said and
shoved his chair towards me.
Oh thanks, so how is your profession going, I asked.
It’s fine and I’m sorry for last time he said in
trembling voice and engaged himself in papers.
It’s all right, I said and is everything ok? I asked,
sensing his nervousness.
No, nothing is fine, I am just tired of this, he
groaned and said we are here to treat patients.
Than what? I asked.
I am fed up with the people who try to end their
lives, he sobbed, especially this young generation.
What you are talking about, I said removing pile of
papers from his desk.
Stand up I’ll show you something, Rishi pulled me to
his ward.
Perplexed I asked what the hell you want to show me,
I hate roaming in wards, hearing patients wailing with pain.
Don’t worry, you will get your answer soon, Rishi
said turning to me.
After sometime we reached to corner bed. A young
Sikh boy, aging 26-27 years was lying with oxygen cylinders and glucose drip
around his bed.
Who is he, my instant question to Dr Rishi.
He is a PhD scholar, his name is Arshdeep Singh,
introduced Rishi.
So what, I said.
He has attempted to commit suicide thrice, Rishi
said with stillness in his voice.
Thrice! I asked astonishingly, but why.
Yes thrice, the reason is unknown. Rishi said ‘he is
reluctant to talk to anyone’. Not even to his parents.
But he is looking stubborn, I whispered to Rishi, looking
at the young Sikh boy, who was given injection of sleep.
May be he is, but for last five days this boy has
attempted to end his life, twice in the hospital, Rishi said pointing towards
police men. They are for his security.
At what time he will retrieve his conscious, I asked
anxiously.
But what you have to do with him, Rishi surprisingly
asked speeding up the flow of glucose from his drip.
I want to talk to him, I said covering his feet with
sheet.
He is not ready to talk to his parents, how you can
expect he will talk to you, Rishi said.
But I can try, I maintained.
Here comes his parent, Rishi signaled me, you can
talk to them.
A skinny man in blue turban and white beard along
with a middle aged woman in black suit greeted Rishi and asked about health of
their son.
We have given him Meperidine, within an hour he will
wake up, Rishi said and introduced me.
I greeted them and wished I could talk to their son
to know reason.
He is reluctant to talk to anyone, mother wailed.
But, I will try. May be he feel comfortable to talk
to me, I obstinate.
Father with tears in his eyes agreed. You can also
try, but please don’t be harsh on him.
I promised I’ll not.
Rishi told me to follow him until, the boy awake.
We went to canteen, but my mind was with the boy.
What made him to take this extreme step, I asked Rishi.
Taking sip of tea, he said I am confused how a PhD
scholar could do this.
I agreed and kept on discussing other things, but I
was curious to talk to him right now.
It was 2:45 pm, I went to his room again. The boy
was reclining on his bed, but was not sleeping. I found he was deliberately
doing so to keep himself away from his parents.
Can I talk to him now, I asked with inquisitiveness,
his father nodded and left the place along with his wife.
I tugged stool near to his bed to make an eye contact
with the boy. Hello Arsh, how you are feeling now, I asked in a friendly tone.
He turned his eyes away, without any reaction.
I tried again, hello I am Pardeep Singh Bali, I am
friend to Dr Rishi.
But no response, he didn’t even looked at me this
time.
I am a PhD scholar and want to be your friend as I
need some help, I made an effort
What you want, he asked with soreness in his tone.
This time it worked, I murmured.
Can we talk for a while, I implored.
I don’t want to talk to anyone, he denied my
proposal.
But why, I want to be your friend and I know you are
enough strong to tell me what actually happened with you, I said.
Please go
from here, I am ok and I am not strong to answer you, he shouted.
Ok please calm down, I said I know PhD is dry and
leaves very less options for a scholar to think, anyone can take this extreme
step.
Oh shut up, I never bother of PhD, as with my
research is almost complete’, he said this time bit confident.
Then why you are trying to commit suicide, I asked
with more firmness.
It is none of your business, he shouted again please
leave me alone.
Accepting failure, I stood up from the stool saying
only stupid can try to end life for a girl, and went back towards door.
Yes, I am stupid, he said, managing to sit properly.
I turned to him, whispered what a hit. What! you
tried to commit suicide only for a girl, I asked.
No, he said hanging his head down, it was not only about
a girl but about a love.
But what actually happen to you, I asked.
I was hurt, is all what I can tell you, he retorted
and laid back to his place.
I kept quite noticing tears flushing out of his
eyes.
I am sorry, if my being inquisitive bruises your
scars, I said.
No, it’s not because of you, the thing is that I am
not yet out of the pain.
I may not compel you to tell me what agony you
faced, but if you feel your sharing may give you some relief and you feel
lighter, I am all-ears-to-you, I said firmly.
Oh thanks, he said but I don’t know where to start from.
Ok, you can start from her name, I suggested
facetiously.
Her name is Aneet Kour, he said with numbness
in his eyes.
I was waiting for something to come up next, but he
just stopped and started weeping loudly.
I could not see a young lad crying like a kid, so I
stood up from my place and hold his hands. You are enough brave, don’t hurt
yourself and your parents, as I saw his mother peeping through window.
I cannot talk about her, he said.
Its ok, if you feel telling me about her will hurt you,
then please don’t, I said, sensing gravity of situation.
It’s not about her, he said resolutely it’s about me
and her. We have been together for last six years and it was love of almost 14
years, he said, I feel guilty for not making things happen. I feel guilty for
every moment I spent with her.
I kept quiet to make him comfortable.
