Quid Pro Quo!
Sitting alone with a cigarette in his hand, on a cold December night, on his chair, puffing the smoke, Dr. Haris awaited the last patient of the day. He was a psychiatrist who seemed to be in his early forties, thick black hair combed backwards almost with perfection; blue green eyes and a slim moustache, trimmed beard, wearing a glasses and a dark blue suit.
Entered a young boy, Jasim, who seemed to be in his early twenties, looked to be a fine boy but looked anxious, agitated, was breathing irregularly as if he came all the way running to the clinic and immediately sat on the chair before him.
“Quid Pro Quo doctor”, said Jasim. “Don’t disappoint me with gibberish, balderdash.”
“How are you Jasim?” inquired the doctor.
“Well walking feels like I’m in a pool of water. Struggling. I am here to talk. Alright? Not this professional non-sense, something is really wrong. I just wish to talk, Alright? I had nowhere to go to. I came here for a talk”, said Jasim and he looked to be in delirium, suffering with soul-wrenching melancholia.
“I am all ears, speak. What is it that bothers you mate?”
“I cannot make sense of anything. Stunning, I must say, everything stops around you, but the train of thoughts, ahh, the lives I’m living, they all come to me at once, while the demon of suicide keeps tapping at my door doc!”
“Have you been taking your medicines regularly, Jasim?”
“Stop this doc, told you I am here to talk.”
“Alright, alright. Please. How would you describe your feelings right now?”, inquired the doctor as he leaned forward on the table, staring into Jasim’s eyes.
“Heart pounding like hammer on the nail, it’s so confusing and painful. There seems to be no escape; you don’t know if you’re running away from the abyss of insanity or towards the grip of mortal extinction. Ahh! A foot here, another there, it’s just an excruciating fall into the jaws of consciousness”, replied Jasim.
“Honour and conscience are needed only for those Jasim, who have power and energy”.
“Man is limited, doc, he adapts; in his own limited circle. Doesn’t ask for more. But my line of demarcation between dream and reality has vanished, they both haunt me intensely. We are so consumed in fighting inner conflicts that we forget why we are here, Look around, HALT! Stop thinking, each should ask: How can I be of help, fellas?” and tears started flowing out of his eyes, he seemed to be suffering with severity, looked feverish and sweaty in cold weather. “OK, you come to a moment, you concede your own self, you say Alright! I’m no more gonna think of myself, I’m not gonna expect, I’m going to accept, I wish to contribute. Where are all those who agree with me? Who is the one to accept me now? What is wrong around here?”
And the unforgiving bouts of crying hit him hard, he started to cry like a mother who had just lost her son. “The problem arises when we don’t let our emotions out. It’s alright”, said the doctor holding Jasim’s hand in his hand, “If a part of body, say your finger is injured and it starts bleeding, the best way is to wash away the debris and let the blood ooze out; but if you put a finger on it, no doubt for a moment you would be able to control the blood loss but as soon as you let it be, the blood would pop out with greater intensity.. Cry it out, you shall feel lighter!”
“You don’t understand doc, my life, it’s so hard, no way I can live through this.”
“It is man’s habit to see what is not visible and delve into despair, hoping for something untrue, expecting some miracle”, replied Dr. Haris.
“But what is my problem? Which responsibility do I need to undertake? All the time, it feels like someone in my body is trying to leave me, rebel against life. My spirits quarrel against my conscience, I wish to die. Pain is the ultimate price, doctor. Powerlessness, limitation. I’m limited, not perfect, but weak and impotent. But what I feel, things I see and observe, why others cannot? They should rise above their limited, ordinary selves. But time is flat, I cannot decipher the reason, everything happens and repeats over and over again, over and over again, over and over.. There’s no limit now; to the number of times I repeat it, because there isn’t one. Everything is stuck. Like “Stop, Resume. Stop. Repeat.”
“You just need to sit back and let time heal you, defeat this, swim through these cyclones. Either you say OK! Yeah, everything is so fucked up, So I’m fucked up too. I cannot help solve anything, therefore I give up! Or you say I’ll be different. I can fight this and draw inspiration from everyone who succeeds in making an impact; taking their lives onto a different course, follow their dreams. Ideas and dreams, our contributions are immortal, NOT US! We are doomed. But what matters is how we respond to this”, said the doctor and took Jasim into his arms.
“But there’s no end to this doc, some hungry child cries as we speak, I cannot help feel well”, said Jasim crying as he fell into slumber in the arms of Dr. Haris.
