A friend loses his mind

A short story

Amit walked up and down the narrow corridor. 

His friend, Jacob George, stood at one side, near the kitchen entrance, and watched, as Amit, whose eyes bulged out, behind gold-rimmed spectacles, pointed a fist towards the ceiling and shouted, “I will take revenge on all those who have harmed me.” 

Jacob felt his breath go in and out, in halts and jerks. He did not know what to say in this sort of a situation. It was a first for him. 

Jacob and Amit were neighbours and childhood friends. They had lived on the same street in Calcutta for years. They went for jogs and movies together, sat on the thin backrest of frayed, wooden benches in the Park Circus Maidan and gossiped for hours. 

Amit was tall, Jacob was short. Amit was muscular, while Jacob was frail. 

There were more differences: Amit played tennis a lot, liked to mix around with people, and was loud and gregarious. Jacob was a book reader, studious-looking and an introvert.  

Amit was originally from Rajasthan, while Jacob was from Kerala. Both their parents had come to Calcutta to better their economic prospects. Both their parents ended up as businessmen -- Amit’s dad was a transporter, while Jacob’s father dealt in rubber. However, Amit’s father went through several ups and downs, while Jacob’s dad had a steady middle class life. 

It was an ordinary life the youngsters led, till one day, at the age of 18, Amit shouted and screamed and said that there were people who were trying to kill him. Initially, Jacob thought that Amit was playing the fool, but the frantic look in his friend’s eyes, the excessive heat on his forehead, the trembling of his hands and legs, the way that he punched the air with his bunched-up fists whenever he spoke, looking all around, as if there were enemies at every corner, made Jacob realise that something was wrong.

 

And here was Amit walking like a maniac up and down the corridor.  

Jacob’s mouth fell open and his heart raced so fast, he could feel it thudding in his chest. 

“Come on Amit, take it easy,” he said. 

Amit stared at him, smiled suddenly, and said, “I am taking it easy. I am taking it easy, Jacob. But we have to be on the alert. There are enemies all around. We have to be careful. You have to be careful. I have to be careful.” 

Jacob realised there was no point in arguing. Amit was in no condition to see reason. Jacob experienced fear for the first time. The familiar was becoming unfamiliar right in front of his eyes. How did it happen? How did his friend lose his mind? Jacob felt guilty. He did not know much about his friend’s early life. 

But he remembered one incident which Amit had told him a few years ago. His family -- he was the youngest among four brothers and sisters -- had been traveling by car from Delhi to Jaipur when they were on vacation. Suddenly, another car hit theirs, which tumbled to one side. 

Thankfully, they were not traveling fast. Everybody fell on top of everybody else, and several pedestrians rushed to the car and pulled them out from a window. The family laughed in relief. Amit remembered that he had also laughed at that time. But, thereafter, for the next six months, he did not speak. 

The family became worried. His mother took him to a counselor, but he refused to speak. Finally, after six months, he started talking again. 

He told Jacob, while they were sitting in the park, one Saturday night, “It was a puzzle. What happened? Why did I go silent? Was it the accident? Was it the tensions between my father and mother, who never got along?”

 

Amit said his mother knew that her husband was sleeping with other women. And she became angry about it. But at the same time, she felt helpless because she was financially dependent on her husband.  

She was born in a village in Rajasthan and had studied upto Class eight only. They had married �" he, a boy from the city, handsome, clever and well-dressed, and she had only one thing going in her favour: her beauty. 

But Amit said, “My father loved my mother, but he had a roving eye and was unable to control himself.”  

Amit continued to walk up and down the corridor. At one end was the door which opened to the backyard. At the other end was the wall on which hung an Ajanta clock. 

“Revenge, revenge,” Amit shouted.

The next time he came near the wall, he reached out and with one blow of his fist, he smashed the clock: PATAW! The sound echoed in the room. 

Jacob’s mouth opened in complete shock. He could hear a buzzing in his ears. He blinked.  

In the sudden silence, the tinkle of the glass falling to the floor could be heard. 

Amit turned around, looked at Jacob and smiled, “We don’t need time any more.” 

Then he walked into the bedroom, which was opposite the living room.

Jacob remained frozen on the spot. This was the first time he had seen violence like this. He saw that the there were shards of glass on the floor, and the long black minute hand had been broken into two. 

He took out his mobile and, with trembling fingers, SMSed a message: ‘Sajan, Amit’s lost it. Please come as soon as you can’.

He stood still for several moments. Then he took a deep breath, crossed the corridor, and went inside the bedroom. Amit was lying on one side of the bed, his eyes closed, completely nude, and masturbating in slow motion. Jacob saw that the penis was semi-hard. 

Jacob stood still, mesmerised by the hand movement. He had never seen somebody masturbate before. Time seemed to have been frozen. He was wondering what to do. Should he go up and stop Amit? Or should he remain where he was, considering that Amit was looking peaceful? But what would happen if somebody else saw this scene? He wondered where Amit’s mother was? 

The main door had been open and he had walked in. 

There was a ping-ping sound from his pocket: An SMS had arrived on his mobile. Jacob looked to see whether the sound had disturbed Amit. It had not. 

Jacob quickly viewed the message: ‘On my way�"Sajan’. As he slid the phone into his pocket once again, he sensed a movement behind him. He turned and saw that it was Urmila Devi, Amit’s mother, her grey hair wet and shining: she seemed to have just come out after her bath. 

She stared at the scene in silence, her lips moving silently. Amit was still masturbating slowly, unaware that there were people in the room. 

Jacob turned his head away, towards the opposite wall, and bit his lower lip. ‘What to do now,’ he thought. ‘What a scene for a mother to see?’    

The mother silently stepped out and went into the kitchen. She called out to Jacob from there. Jacob went quietly out of the bedroom. 

“How did the clock break?” she asked, as she picked up a broom and a small red pan to collect the pieces. 

“Amit broke it,” said Jacob. He felt a rush of pain. He knew that Amit’s mother would be upset to hear that. 

“What is happening?” she said, shaking her head. “How long will this go on? Why has this happened to us? I don’t understand.” 

It seemed to be rhetorical questions, so Jacob did not try to answer them. What his friend’s mother did not know was that he had been asking the same questions himself. 

Yes, why did Amit end up like this? Would there be a cure? Would his friend recover? Nobody had any idea. He could not understand how his friend had lost his mind like this. 

Amit’s mother, realising that Jacob was not going to reply, stepped out of the kitchen to sweep the fragments of the clock. “Just keep an eye,” she said, pointing with her eyes at the bedroom. 

Jacob nodded and felt bad for the mother. Did she deserve this, her young son losing his mind and behaving like a sex maniac? He went into the bedroom. Now Amit had fallen asleep, his mouth open, his c**k lying limp to one side. 

Jacob felt relieved he had not come. ‘That would have been embarrassing to clean up,’ he thought. He was afraid to go and pull up the pyjamas.  

The minutes passed in silence.    

Somebody tapped him on the shoulders. 

When Jacob turned, he felt an immediate sense of relief flood his body. It was his friend, Sajan, the tall, broad-shouldered Sajan, with the overhanging paunch and thick, muscular legs and the easy smile. 

“What’s up?” said Sajan. 

“Amit went crazy,” said Jacob, his heart continuing to beat fast. “He smashed the clock.”

“Why is he nude?” said Sajan. 

“I don’t know,” said Jacob. “He was walking up and down the corridor, then he broke the clock, and then he came into the bedroom and took off his clothes and started masturbating.” 

“Don’t tell me,” Sajan said, a small smile breaking out on his face. 

Jacob leaned forward and whispered in Sajan’s ears, “His mother saw it. Can you believe that?”

“God,” Sajan said in a soft voice. “He’s lost it. Did the f****r come?”

“No, he went off to sleep,” said Jacob.

“Amit’s horny as ever,” Sajan said.  

They grinned and Jacob could feel a lightness within him. That was what he liked about Sajan: he was a cool cat and never lost his mental equilibrium, no matter what happened. That coolness tended to rub on to others. Now Jacob could see the funny side of the situation. He smiled again.        

“What do we do now?” said Jacob. “Should we get him dressed?”

Sajan stared at Amit, and then shook his head. “No, let him sleep, we can make him dressed when he awakens. Come on, let’s go out,” he said. 

Outside, they stood leaning in front of a low railing. Sajan took out his Wills packet from his back pocket and lit a cigarette. 

“How did this happen?” said Sajan, as he blew smoke skywards.

“There is some family history,” said Jacob. “The father sleeps around, the mother fights with the father often, they have some financial problems.” Jacob then told Sajan about the car accident. 

As he spoke, Jacob felt more and more relieved. It seemed that all the tension that was pent up in him was now flowing out through the sentences, out of his body and mind and made him feel happy and relaxed. 

“Well, I have to confess I know little about Amit although we have spent so many hours together,” said Sajan. 

“That’s city life,” said Jacob. “Nobody knows the family history of anybody, unlike in a village.” 

“That’s true,” said Sajan. “In a way, it’s good. There is less interference and botheration. You have your freedom. Do what you want.” 

Jacob nodded. He was not sure whether this was a good or a bad thing. ‘You could feel isolated in a city,’ he thought. ‘People don’t care whether you are alive or not. If you are in trouble, there is nobody to help you’.

 

Aloud, he said, “There are pros and cons to that.” 

“Tell me the cons,” said Sajan. 

As Jacob was about to speak, a taxi stopped near the house and Amit’s father, Yash Singh, stepped out. He held a Samsonite bag in his hand. His face gleamed: red cheeks and grey eyes. His brown leather shoes gleamed. His brown suit gleamed. He had rushed back from Guwahati where he had gone for some work. 

He smiled at Sajan and Jacob. 

Jacob thought, ‘Like Sajan, he is a cool cat. And he spends well: a Samsonite bag.’

 

“Where is Amit?” he said. 

“Inside, sleeping,” said Sajan. 

He nodded his head and said, “How are things?” 

“Okay,” Sajan replied and Jacob nodded.

 

‘What do you reply to a question like that to the father?’ Jacob thought. ‘He is in for a shock.’ 

Yash Singh went into the house. 

“Cool cat,” said Sajan. 

“Yeah, he seems to be a nice guy,” said Jacob. “He is going to be shocked.” 

Sajan nodded and said, “You are probably right.” 

They stood in silence for a few moments. 

Jacob suddenly realised what a lucky guy he was. His family life was so steady. There was peace between his mother and father. He rarely fought with his brother or sister. The household moved in a steady rhythm, everything on time and on schedule. He remembered Amit once telling him that his mother had no sense of time. So, lunch could be any time between one and three and dinner from eight to midnight.

 

‘How can you live like that,’ he thought. 

 

“So what are the cons?” Sajan said. 

Jacob blinked and it took him a while to come back from his reverie. 

“Huh? Huh?” he said. 

“What are the cons of living in a city?” Sajan said. 

Jacob suddenly wished he could be as unflappable like Sajan, but he was, by nature, high-strung and nervous and, not to forget, over-sensitive. A slight insult from somebody and he would be depressed for days. 

“The cons, of course, are that when you are in trouble, there is nobody to help,” said Jacob. 

“Is this true?” Sajan said. “Amit is in trouble and we are here to help.”

“What I mean is that there are no relatives, you are at the mercy of friends who might not be true friends at all.” 

“Okay, you have a point there,” conceded Sajan. “We could have easily stayed away, but instead, we have come forward to help.” 

Jacob felt a sense of relief. That was another weakness about him. If somebody rejected his side of an argument, he would feel that the person was rejecting him as a person. ‘I am quite immature,’ he thought. ‘I am like a child, although I am 20 years old now.’ 

Just then, Yash Singh leaned out from the steps of the building and said, “Can you guys come in for a while?”

Jacob felt a spasm of nervousness go through him. ‘Now what?’ he thought. ‘Hope Amit has not broken anything.’ 

Sajan took a last pull of his cigarette, squashed the stick under his heel and they walked inside the house. 

Yash Singh had changed into a white kurta and pyjamas and slippers. He led the two men into the living room. 

They sat down on low sofas and Yash Singh smiled at the two men. 

“Firstly,” he said, “I must thank you for being here. It is a very difficult time and my wife and I need your help because Amit trusts you both.” 

Yash Singh went on to say that his elder son, Rahul, was in Mumbai and had just begun work in Reliance as a chartered accountant and he did not want to call him yet. The other two sisters were married and living in Delhi and Ahmedabad respectively. All this they knew, but they listened to him politely. 

‘It is difficult to imagine Yash Singh is a womaniser,’ thought Jacob. ‘Maybe, this is how you seduce women: by being polite and friendly, and if you have a thick wallet, that must surely help. Plus, he is good-looking.’ 

Jacob suddenly realised Yash Singh was looking at him and had said something. 

“I am sorry, Sir, I missed what you said,” said Jacob, stammering a little. 

“Well Jacob, I was saying that we need to take Amit to a psychiatrist,” said Yash Singh. “We have no idea how to treat this mental illness. This is the first time this has happened in our family.”

Jacob nodded. He did not know what to say. He had never met a psychiatrist in his life. Sure, he had read about Sigmund Freud, but as to a real life psychiatrist and that too in a city like Calcutta, was there such a person?

 

“Are there psychiatrists in Calcutta?” Jacob said.

 

Yash Singh smiled. “That was what I thought. But in Guwahati, I quickly checked the Internet and there are several,” he said.

 

“Will Amit agree?” said Sajan.

 

‘Yes,’ Jacob thought. ‘Amit will become angry if is told he is being taken to a psychiatrist.’

 

“We won’t tell him we are taking him to a psychiatrist, we will just say we are going to see a doctor,” said Yash Singh.

 

They sat silently mulling over this.

 

“It sounds fine,” says Sajan.   

 

“It does not sound fine,” said a voice from the door. Surprisingly, nobody had noticed Amit standing there. It seemed he had sneaked up to the door silently.

 

“Beta, come sit down,” said Yash Singh.

 

Jacob again felt his nerves go aflutter. ‘Now what?!’ he thought. He cracked a knuckle.  

 

He stared hard at Amit, who had a sleepy look, but his eyes were enlarged.

 

“No, I am not sitting down. And I am not going to a psychiatrist,” said Amit.

 

Jacob looked at Sajan, who was staring intently at Amit.

 

The tension in the room suddenly became thick.

 

Jacob bit his lips.

 

Suddenly, Sajan said, “Hi Amit, how are you?”

 

“Oh hi Sajan, how are you?”

 

Sajan got up, walked up to Amit and exchanged high fives.

 

Jacob started breathing again. Taking the cue from Sajan, he also got up and shook Amit’s hands.

 

“How are you feeling?” said Jacob.

 

“I am fine,” said Amit, as he stepped into the room.

 

“Beta,” said Yash Singh, as he stepped forward.

 

Amit suddenly leaned forward and pushed his father back. It seemed like a little push but Yash Singh seemed to fly across the room and his left arm hit the window grille and there was a sound, like as if a knuckle was being cracked.

 

Yash Singh held his left hand with his right and his face was contorted in pain.

 

“I am not going to a psychiatrist,” Amit said. “Papa, I am not going.”

 

Yash Singh did not say anything.

 

Jacob was wondering what to do next. Even Sajan seemed frozen for the first time. Then Amit turned abruptly and went back to the bedroom. Sajan stepped forward and held Yash Singh by the shoulders.

 

“Sit down, Uncle, sit down,” he said.

 

“It seems the hand is broken, Uncle,” said Jacob. He felt a terrible sadness within him that his friend had inflicted this pain on his own father.

 

“It seems so,” said Yash Singh. “We will have to go to a hospital.”

 

“Jacob, get a cab,” said Sajan, “We will go to Chittaranjan hospital.”

 

As Jacob walked out of the living room, he cast a glance at the bedroom. Amit was lying down, with his eyes closed. ‘Amazing,’ Jacob thought. ‘Amit seems calm and relaxed although he has just broken his father’s hand.’ 

He stepped out onto the road and was able to flag a cab immediately. 

Yash Singh, Sajan and Jacob went towards the hospital, which was just on the other side of the park. 
   

Reviews

[Shelina Shariff-Zia]

Very interesting. It is a messy situation and the friends seem unsure what to do.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A painful and revealing piece that speaks to all readers, well done, great piece.