When the nagging feeling
of being faceless in
the crowded city
began haunting him
like a blood-hound
the frustrated and
depressed young man
weighed the pros and cons of
approaching a psychiatrist
to lay bare his
mind before the gentleman
practicing somewhere in the suburb
in search of a remedy
a bit of counseling
by the Doctor
with the hope of
being blessed with
a miracle cure.
He started walking
down the crowded streets
with the intention of
consulting the reputed psychiatrist
the clinic too was
crowded with faceless patients
awaiting his/her
number to be called inside
by the Florence Nightingale clad in full white.
The young man too
got a token number
from the registration counter on paying the stipulated fees.
Since the number of
patients ahead of
him were umpteen
the poor youth had
to wait for
his turn for about
two to three hours.
He was getting bored
to death and was
getting impatient
as the time
was fast running out.
But he was left
with no choice
but to wait for his number
to be called by the Florence Nightingale.
She called his number at last
looking serious and tense simultaneously
contrary to his expectation
of a beaming smile by the Nightingale
he went inside.
The Doctor too was serious
and looking arrogant
was clad in
white-pants, black shirt and
a white overcoat.
He asked the youth
to be seated in the
chair in front of him.
With his heart pounding
and his eyes gone wide
his angst reflecting
his state of mind
and lamented:
“Dr. Iam seriously worried
about feeling
faceless in this city
kind of loss of identity.
I need your invaluable help.
Dear Dr.”
The Doctor’s face
still stony and arrogant
one of his hands violently rotating
the paper-weight
over the sun mica spread on the table
infront of him and inquired:
“Anything more? – his face bore the brunt of boredom
“Nothing…Nothing more
please give me your
kind advice”
the youth glanced at him anxiously and hopefully
with his throat going dry.
Stammering he was
he found it impossible to
express his feelings
“You are suffering
from ‘identity crisis’ man
a common mental problem facing lakhs of
citizens in this city.
I shall prescribe
some tranquilisers and
anti-depressants. Never stop it”
After paying a hefty consultation fee
with the prescription
the youth went outside in despair.
He overheard the
Nightingale calling the next number.
The youth while climbing down the stairs
tore the prescription to pieces
and threw it away
returned to his
room in anger and frustration.
“In the city all are just numbers
no escape-route .
“This cosmopolitan
city is a giant table
full of numbers” –
He consoled himself.
No comments:
Post a Comment