Her daughter was almost on the verge of committing suicide today morning. Her best friend had seen her go to the College terrace and had followed her when she did not respond, only to find her sitting on the railing and staring at the miniature vehicles parked below. After being forcefully made go to get down to the safer side and pulled to go back to attend the class, did Anjali confide to her about the thought of committing suicide.
She held me close as she wept. Anjali was her only daughter and that too someone who made every other girl of her age go green with Envy. A brilliant student, a gifted Sitar player and really beautiful. But soon after matriculating, she started being someone which she wasn’t. Her situation could not be described, for there were days which were never absolutely normal. Either she was too cheerful to laugh all day or she was gloomy enough to pull her hair one by one from the scalp. She stopped being the usual her and her mood could transform from mania to depression in a matter of few minutes.
Today after consulting 2 renowned Psychiatrists, it was declared that she suffered from Bipolar disorder and that too of the worst kind.
Looking at her mother crying, I strangely felt nothing but a fight of emotions happening inside. I remember delivering my child and hating it from the moment I saw it. I still feel that it looked like a monster with Patchy skin and really dark skin, on those initial days after birth. I preferred not seeing it on the first three days but I had to for it had to be fed. Noone thought it looked ugly but me.
As days passed I started liking the monster, since it still belonged to me. The patchy skin gave way to soft fair skin and he turned from being a monster to being my baby. Everyone said that he looked this way from the beginning and they looked down on me when I told them about his previous state of ugliness. My husband took me to a psychotherapist, who told that I suffered from post pregnancy depression known as postpartum depression. She promised that it was common and that it would soon go away.
I remember sitting on the revolving office chair contemplating suicide. I had no reasons for doing so, but I wanted my life to end. I knew it was because of my situation but how can you control the thoughts and shut them down? The battle of the thoughts was won by me, only after giving due weightage to my baby and my family. They are the only reason I am alive.
I remember overhearing Anjali’s mother tell her friend over the phone, that I was a Mad-woman and that I needed to meet some Tantrik. She even thought that I was possessed by the devil himself. It took me one year to be normal again. But more than that, it was the support of my Husband that brought me back.
Now I watch her crying. Should I direct her daughter to an Exorcist?
P.S- Strictly not Fiction.
P.P.S- Hate myself for not being able to reply to the generous comments i received on my last post. Exams happening. :(
P.P.P.S- I cannot let you all leave my blog without smiling, so here is a click direct from the deep South
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