Today is the concluding chapter of Ajita's schizophrenia story.....I would like to put on record apprecation of Aita's efforts.
May 1997
Mayu, my daughter appeared for her 10th board exams! She is bright. Let’s see. Her father wants her to pursue medicine. I do not know about her choice. These have been a good 15 years. We have been to 4 different cities, moving to another after a couple of years. We have purchased a house; my husband is in good job. He takes care of us. My father in law passed away when Shreya was 5. Mother in law does not keep good health now. But overall, all these years, I think I have been a good wife and a good mother. I wanted to start working once Shreya grew up a bit, but my husband refused saying that there is no support system and hence I better look after her. I too agreed. Most of my time is spent cooking for her and also her friends. Teaching her whenever I need to. My day revolves around her. In fact my life. It is just a simple life. I miss our home. I do go yearly back there, all brothers’ and their children and wives everything is good. Ma has grown old too...I do go with a yearning but when I go there I remember what they did to you and I want to come back to my husband, my home.
July 1998
Mayu, I saw you with my husband. In my house. I haven’t said anything. But remember I have seen you.
I now do not trust my husband. I will continue to live with him because of Shreya. She is what I live for. She will fulfil all my dreams. I will give her what I couldn’t get.
*****
Tears flowed as I shut this diary. This was my mother’s diary. I could not even read the dates properly. Everything fell into place. I could understand what my mamas had been telling me suggestively and also my nani. I knew it was my nani’s handwriting where she had made those notes. She must have taken advantage of the fact that my mother never read again, once she had done writing. It was her way of letting me know when the time was right.
I grew up in a household which was happy or so it seemed but there were times when my mom was having temper issues. I could never be for sure what and how she would react. She was protective, overprotective I must say. As I grew up, I could sense that something was different. I learnt not to tell her all things in order to escape her rants. But she would fulfil all my wishes. At least she would try. Very hard. As I grew up, I understood that was something was wrong, something was amiss. But I didn’t know exactly what. My father doted on me but he was a strict father as most of us had... I knew my mother was different and I could not comprehend it. When I was in 10th, she had to be put on medication.
This was my first encounter with the problem that was hers and I was angry at her. For not being normal. My father explained to me what her problem was. She was a schizophrenic. She was diagnosed to be a schizophrenic. I hardly understood this. Was she going bonkers? I was angry at her for not being a normal mother.
As, the car raced forward, I remember the incidences of my std 12th, her anxiety was increasing, always wanted me to come back as soon as college and classes got over. She tolerated me being away only because I was preparing for my exams. Maybe I could try to be a doctor. But I hated the profession who broke the news that my mother was not normal. I could not have movies and night outs with my friends. I started hiding from her to manage movies.
Towards the end of my 12th, she again had a severe attack. She had to be hospitalised. And again I was angry. Now, not at her, but the circumstances. Why me? What had I done? This was just not fair. My dad took care of everything, keeping me away from managing this all. I was angry at the world. At everything. And also at my mother. How could she not give me a proper childhood and adolescence!
I was making up my mind. And my results came. I could not get into a high percentage rank but I could get admission in one of the best colleges for Nutrition and Dietetics. Around 2000km away from this city. A major reason to choose. I told my father my decision. I told him that I wanted to get away from this scenario and this was a good excuse. He backed my decision. Mom of course did not. But how could she stop me? I took the first train vowing not to come often. To come only if required. Of course I had to talk to Mom everyday. She would get anxious and start blaming my father. I agreed and kept my promise. 5 minutes daily. Maybe sometimes thrice in a day.
The 5 years there, taught me a lot of biology that made me understand her condition. It also taught me that I dreaded going home in vacations, being the last to leave the hostel and the first to resume. I was happy. This was the way I coped with my anger at things.
During these 5 years, thanks to all biology lectures, I knew that this could be inherited. Means my children could suffer from this. As it is I am prone to mood swings. And having gone through a different childhood myself, I would not want my grandchildren to have one like mine. I decided to not have children. I do not have the right to bring in this world a life which could possibly mess up other’s life.
Recently, there have been instances where my mother has had such attacks. My father has taken care as much as he could. But he passed away a few years ago and yet I am not ready to take my mother’s responsibility. She still stays 2000 km away. I wish to go abroad only to increase this distance. She does have these attacks, their frequency increases, where she would call and announce on phone that there were people entering into house. ‘They’ wanted to take away her property. Sometimes ‘they’ were on secret mission and meant harm to her. Beyond that she had no explanation. And I have no help to offer her.
Till today. This time she had an attack, it was very severe. Because I could not return to her after my marriage to a person who was my professor earlier. She was happy that I had found someone but he was yet another thing that would contribute in keeping me away from her. The neighbours called her doctor who took her forcefully to the clinic. So, we had to rush to her. The doctor said that there are slight chances that she can stay alone now. I could not make her stay with us. It would mean messing up our lives. Though it does sound heartless and selfish, I have seen my father slowly lose lustre. I have handled a couple of her attacks with him to know that it is very taxing. I will have to find a way – a home, a facility for such patients.
I decided to go home and figure out things. While rummaging through lots of other things, I found her diary; which I read while driving back to the hospital. Suddenly, I had a lump in my throat. I cried. Yes, this time I would go to the hospital and meet her. Sit with her. Spend time with her. Because, I was not angry anymore. Not at her. Not towards circumstances. Not at me. I had to forgive her. In fact I had to forgive myself too. For all that was there. For all that couldn’t be there. She just was not at fault at all the things that we all suffered. I am sure about both my decisions. I have decided to sign the papers of the ‘facility’ or the ‘home’ as they call asylum now a days. I just hope that she will suffer less as she traverses towards her end which none of us know when it will be.