The sky seems so blue that it floods my eyes whenever I look up. The clouds do somewhat look like the unfurling waves the ocean holds. I feel so absorbed in it that I had to tear my eyes away from this ocean full of waves in order to locate the place where a fight had just broken out between two teenagers. And immediately my eyes were aching with the brightness of the greenery around the park and my ears tried to fathom the confused shouts and jeers of the spectators of this spectacular fight. It had now caused lurid bright red spots of blood to appear near the pale guy’s nose.
The other guy was still seated on top of the pale guy and a gang of four people had to come running to bring the two apart. The pale guy was immediately pulled up to his feet by three of his friends, pulling him by his elbows. Before leaving, the pale guy looked at the other guy with a final look of disgust and brushed the area around his nose with his thumb, which was now bleeding, profusely. It made me wince.
Now the spectators of this spectacular fight had nothing to stare at but the messy-haired guy, previously seated on top of the pale guy, and pass suspicious coherent whispers around. The boy was sweating and his chest rose and fell, still shaking with fury. He looked around visciously, daring anybody to say anything. But none came, and soon I found my interest waning. He had no mark of blood on his body. Yet his friend kept on asking, “...’you fine?”
“Yeah almost” And then my interest died out and I kept looking about, wanting to trace anything new, unusual and then settled for the chequered pattern of sun rays falling on my feet. Bright day. Or so I felt until a sturdy voice was ringing harsh in my ears. It seemed distant. Really distant. Before it could shake me off my meditation that I was enjoying while staring at my feet.
“Sylvia! Sylvia!”, and then again came another “Sylvia” which finally forced my head to turn my gaze towards the robust woman in dark skin and plump cheeks.
“Oh Jeez... What the hell are you doin’ here. Didn’t I tell you…” and I found her voice really boring to hold my attention for a few more seconds. I turned my gaze away. To this she kept bellowing like a mad bull, no sooner picking me up by my elbow and dragging me forcefully out of the park. I found my feet following her with utter laziness- her four steps equivalent to one step of mine. The passers by were giving me and Jane a nice sidelong glance, marvelling with curiosity what had caused such a grown woman to drag a 17 year old girl through the footpath and up to her house and soon, I was in front of the white door again.
“Wait, till I tell your dad…wait…you ruddy little girl…” Her voice trailed off in my mind. I wasn’t hearing anymore and slouched on the couch next to the table in the living room. I looked out of the window opposite to the couch. The sky…seems so blue…
“Its calling,”
“What? What’s calling what? ”
“The sky…”
“Whats the sky calling? Whom is it calling? Wait…What? Oh god…not again…”
“The sky is calling me. Its so blue today. Reminds me of the beach. Its calling me. I must go…” I found myself getting up off the couch, walking absent mindedly towards the door and he next thing I could feel was a hand gripping my arms hard, before I could latch open the door. Behind I could hear faint voices “Arthur! Arthur! Where’s the old hag now! Arthur!” but it wasn’t strong enough. It was faint. It was distant.
Dad came rambling down the stairs making large muffled noises. One pull of hand and I was down again on the couch.
“Hey now, Sylvia, here, sit here. Stop it. Okay? Just stop” and he pulled me closer to his chest and I to my amazement, I buried my head into his chest and felt a lump rising in my throat. I cried. I cried. I felt the trickle of hot tears down my cheeks even before I could pull myself together. Through my tear-blurred vision I could see Jane still standing beside dad with a hand against her hip, making a ‘v’. Apparently she was trying to be sturdy, like she has always been. But something in her face was telling me that she was already breaking down. For the first time I actually started noticing how hard she was trying to retain all of it back, and I squeaked a tiny “Sorry” that got lost somewhere in my incoherent whoops.
“That’s fine, that’s fine” and dad cupped my face in his hands bestowing a kiss on the forehead, he said again, “all is fine, if not now, it will be, soon”
He and Jane, lead me to my room soon enough. I dumped myself on my bed upstairs, and curled into a small ball. Dad left soon after and Jane put a blanket on me, pulling the curtains closer to bar the sun rays from entering my room. I saw her face, an expression somewhere between a smile and an about-to-cry phase and closed my eyes quickly. She hurried downstairs and I could hear angry cries and abuses that were probably addressed to dad. But I wasn’t interested or rather I was drifting too swiftly towards an irresistible sleep.
Six months later, my dad did not find an improvement in my demeanour and decided my response to his questions was as similar as it was to the ceiling of my room.
Next week I found myself on a journey somewhere in our blue ford car . Jane was with us too, but I was too engrossed with the hem of my top to see which way we were heading towards. The frayed edges of my top were boring to fiddle with but rather more interesting than all of the world’s business affairs, at the same time. Few seconds later my eyesight was aching from the trees and buildings zooming in and out continuously out of my car window. I had to bury my head in my hand, which made my dad look at the rear view mirror and ask, “ Hey Syl, you fine?” I gave a gentle nod. Jane’s hand traced its way from her lap to my hand. I felt her warm hand so much more comfortable when placed on my stone cold ones. In six months, I often heard phrases like, “you are losing your weight, Syl”, “You aren’t eating, why aren’t you eating?”, and often my dad had to burst into my room at night to calm me from the occasional nightmares I had.
The car haulted after an hour, in front of a building in granite or so I saw and quickly enough both the members of the car got out while I sat stubbornly refusing to take a step out of it.
“Baby, we are there,” said Jane in a feeble smile. I purposefully looked out of the other side of the window and pretended to be in deep thought. No am not going there. I heard Jane say, “Arthur…” and then she went on to say something in hand gestures I cared not for. My dad who was standing in front of the building by then, came pelting towards the car door and bent down to look at me, “Syl, this is a nice place, come on get out, you will feel good” then moving his head in a gesture towards the roads, “see, busy street, and oh wow, look there’s a candy shop. How about going there after this?” Candy Shop. And something lurched in my heart. A strong pulp rising again. But I shove it down forcefully.
“I don’t wanna go.”
“Ok. We wont be going to the candy shop. Now get down. We are going to meet a very exciting man today.Really, generous and efficient. Now look Syl, we can’t delay it any longer, the appointment is at 11. A minuite to go. Hasten.”
Appointment? Really? For god’s sake dad there’s no anti-dote to my miseries.
When I refused to look at him, reckoning already who he wants me to meet, he dragged me out of the car by my arms and I continued to resist like a six year old girl refusing to go to school. From within me rose a sub-conscious voice. This is it. Push away and run. No strings attached, run. And then as if answering the voice came a sturdy voice from behind. “Syl dear, learn to face your problems, you can’t be giving up just like that” and I felt Jane’s reassuring hand on my shoulders while we passed a long white corridor with doors on either side . I shrugged her hand off me. The pulp I had just shoved down while I was in the car, began to transform itself into a mass of bitterness. We had paused in front of a semi-cirular white desk and a lady with deep-seated small eyes was saying something over telephone which she held in her left hand while taking down notes with the right hand, only to pause at my father’s pretentious cough, “ahem…ahem… “. When the receptionist looked up pulling down the receiver, dad proceeded, “We had an appointment at 11 A.M today with Dr Oliver Davies.”
The receptionist quickly looked down at the computer screen.
“Sylvia Jones? ”
“ Yes, yes” said my father in a hurry, dropping the magazine back to the stand beside the desk.
“Third floor. Room 103”
“Thankyou”
Dad moved forward, rearranging the full-sleeved chequered shirt he was wearing. I moved grumpily along with Jane following them up the staircase. Seeing my present condition dad found it would be better if we climbed the stairs. Maybe the thought that I would start yelling like a lunatic and throw tantrums at him in the lift which would be loaded with many more people made him choose the other alternative. I wasn’t keen either on taking the lift. It made me all the more claustrophobic. When we were on the third floor I saw the white electronic board above confirming that it was a psychiatrist I was visiting. But what made my dad think that I would be delighted, if in the least, to meet an “exciting, really generous and efficient man” could not sink within me. I failed to see how he could help me out.
We stopped at room 103. Dr. Oliver Davies-a black name plate on the door read. Dad made a courtesy-knock at the door and we all followed in.
“Morning, Oliver.” Said dad brightly.
“Morning” said a plump fat bellied man, apparently of a short stature, and rounded cheeks, all red. He wore a funny look and his eyes were almost bulging. On top of his nose were seated a rimless square spectacles. Something in the look he gave dad, made me realise they already knew each other. “Six years, Arthur.” And he passed a benign smile to all three of us. “I was a little taken aback after your call last week. I was excited as well as a little depressed at the thought of meeting you. Ofcourse I hadn’t thought we will be meeting in a place like this.” He shrugged. Dad was about to say,”How are…” when in the middle Mr. Oliver cut him off “Anyway. This is your daughter I suppose but I don’t recognise this lady here…”
“Ahh, this is Jane Davenant. She was Sylvia’s nanny when Syl was young. She has been living with us ever since.”
“Do you want her to be present while we proceed? I think it best that…”
“We call her family. She will stay here Oliver. Thankyou for being curt” said dad dismissively without losing the hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Mr. Oliver who was staring at us with his twinkling eyes said quickly “ Oh yes, ofcourse. Ofcourse. Family. I see.” and in an awkward effort to overcome his embarrassment he flung his hand towards his pen stand to pick up a pen and ended up dropping the entire stand on the floor along with a globe. Dad and Jane helped him pick up the contents and placed it back on the table while I did not make the slightest inclination to help this funny-looking creature. Exciting. Generous. I see. Efficient too . That we will see in some moments time. I thought and looked away from him while he continued to steal glances at me while picking up the last pen on the floor.
“Ahh…so…where was I…”
“You haven’t yet begun” said dad.
“Oh yes. Now we will” he said re-arranging his tie,”So Miss Sylvia, ” he began, “I know the circumstances very well. Your dad has acquainted me with all the facts and mishaps. All I want to ask you is… How do you feel right now?”
Few seconds passed by, realizing that his question was going unanswered, he peered through his square glasses and I looked away, out of the window. Taking complete care to act as if I didn’t hear a word I continued staring out of the window. Dad nudged me with his elbow and Jane said in a motherly voice, “Syl? He is asking you something…”
I began looking here and there. The room was small, with only desk and weighing machine but it was well furnished with racks and a soft board stood there on the wall, and pinned to it were certain paper articles and charts and facts I could hardly make out. The room was embellished with one small window which overlooked the street.
“How have you been feeling Miss Sylvia?”
No answer. A pause.
“Miss Sylvia, I expect complete cooperation from your side if you wanna achieve satisfactory results” said Mr. Oliver unabashed by my rudeness.
Satisfactory results? I thought this over again. Satisfactory Results?
I found a tide washing over me. Unable to keep it within I felt like this puny man should drown in the tide raging inside me. “Satisfactory results?”
Another pause. Mr. Oliver now looked a little startled by the whisper he heard from my parted lips and hissed breath.
“Oh really? Like what kind of satisfactory results are you talking of Mr. Oliver? ” This was the first time I spoke in complete sentence headed by an interrogation and completed by a mocking tone in my voice.
Dad who was completely taken aback by my question seemed it best to keep looking at me and not look at Mr Davies, who was now blushing red, embarrassed, he continued taking a deep breath, “We are trying to help you out Miss Jones. So if you please co-operate with me then maybe you will soon come out of the severe depression that you have been diagnosed with.” He continued to pass a nervous smile.
“Am sorry Mr. Oliver, but…” I found it difficult to speak further but somehow continued, “I-I don’t think you will or anybody will ever be able to understand what I am going through, or what I have been through over the past six or seven months. ” the coldness of my voice seemed to have astounded the people in the room for all three of them were now looking at me with pitiful eyes, trying to make an eye contact. I however continued to glare at Mr. Oliver with a blank face and eyes that still couldnot find a shore in the midst of a shipwreck.
Mr. Davies removed his spectacles and said in a business-like voice, “Right. We won’t feel what you are feeling Miss Jones. But certainly we are trying our best to help you out.”
Then he softened his voice, “ For mental pain is strange Miss Sylvia, it increases when you keep pushing it within and am afraid, no dozes of medicine will ever be able to cure you out of the darkness you seem to have taken shelter in if you refuse to accept help.” His hands twitched in uncertainty. “Pain is strange” he repeated and let go of the pen he had been holding in vain.
I continued to stare with eyes that he found, for sure, that are lost. The room began to shrink in front of my eyes, the happenings of the past seven months rotating. I tried not to think of it but my mind was long ago an involuntary business which I could hardly command. Pain is strange. Indeed.
“Hollow” I whispered staring at the wall behind Mr.Oliver.
“I feel hollowed from within.” I yielded eventually.
“How long have you been feeling like this?”
“Seven months. Or long, maybe.”
“Anything else which you would like to share right now”
I ignored. I had a thousand feelings trapped inside the web of my mind. How do I explain what else I have been feeling for the past seven months.
“Anything else? Miss Sylvia ?” he bended forward, crouching on the table a little more.
“Yes…”
“What else?”
“I don’t know…” I clasped both my hands together and continued to stare at the ground. “I really don’t know what’s happening to me…”
“Well… That will do Miss. I don’t think today’s meeting will give me all of my answers.”
Jane and dad both looked uncertain. I myself was dumbfounded. What is he? A joke? Just fifteen minutes and we travelled all the way, for one hour or more for this?
“Can I have a word with you Arthur? Sylvia can wait ouside.”
No sooner was this said than I was ready to leave, up on my heels. I waited ouside, leaning against the world, losing myself in another thought. I wasn’t there anymore.
