MANASI The first thing I notice is the sky—its blue intensity, unsullied by a single cloud. The next detail I observe is how colourful the flowers look. The reds, violets, and yellows are starkly etched on a background of bottle-green foliage. Then, the birds! Their chirping provides a symphony of ecstasy that seeps into my whole being. My awareness permeates my soul, and I am thrilled by the joy I see there. I am Manasi, an eighteen-year-old waiting in the park to meet the special someone in my life: Tarun. We have had a tiff and been bickering for a few days. But what’s new in that? Fighting and reuniting are as old as Adam and Eve. The pleasure of making up is worth the pain of a quarrel. Last night, we talked on the phone and made up. We agreed to meet here, at the neighbourhood park, our special place since we were kids. There! I see him parking his bike and jauntily enter the gates. Tarun is tall, with finely chiselled features. A boyish grin adds to his rugged charm. But even though his aura implies it, he is not frivolous. In fact, what draws me to him is his intellectual streak. He approaches me, his eyes shining with love. I reciprocate with a smile that is straight from my soul. He leans towards me, his thumb outstretched, in a childlike gesture seeking friendship. I grin and strike his thumb with mine—exactly how we would make up after a quarrel when we were kids. He sinks next to me on the bench and sighs in deep pleasure. This park has always been a special place for us. When we were kids, we played here with all our friends. One day, many years ago, while we were all taking turns at the swing, I fell and hurt my leg. Tarun was immediately next to me, shushing me, wiping my tears, taking my leg into his hands, inspecting my wound, and rubbing at the spot, all the while uttering words of encouragement. That was the beginning of our love. The park was where Tarun declared his love for me when we were at school. This was where we would secretly meet most evenings. Both of us are in college now, and our secret trysts continue. *** After chatting for a while, we grow quiet. The silence is filled with more emotions than a conversation. This quietitude has more depth than a heart-to-heart exchange. A lone bird lets out a plaintive call. For some reason, it sounds more profound than the background chatter of birds, like how you notice a falling star while ignoring the other million twinkling stars that dot the sky. My mind is filled with deep happiness, and I lean on Tarun’s shoulders. He puts his hands around me, and I feel the love emanating from him. I soak it up and let out a deep sigh. *** Suddenly, piercing the moment’s tranquillity, a harsh voice calls out my name. I ignore it, but the insistent tone gets on my nerves. I hate the disturbance. The loud ‘Manasi’ is disruptive, and I feel my euphoria slipping away, and my enchanting world comes crashing down. *** I wake up from my dream, and disappointment permeates my whole being. My eyes are still closed as I feel Shankar’s hands shaking my body. I hear the command in his voice. “Wake up. The kids must go to school, and I must leave for the office early. Are you not working today?” I mumble something to let him know I am awake, and he leaves my bedside after declaring, “That’s the third time you have overslept this week”. “And that’s the third time you have disrupted my dream,” I mumble to myself. I open my eyes and look at the drab walls of my room. The faded brown blades of the fan revolve tiredly, bringing home the dinginess of my middle-class, middle-aged existence. The kaleidoscopic colours of my dreamscape jarringly contrast with the drabness of my home. *** The first thing I did was email my boss, saying I was taking the day off and then went into the kitchen to begin my day. My chores were done in a couple of hours. The kids, aged thirteen and ten, had left for school only five minutes late. Even though I work from home, I needed time to sort out a few things in my life, like that dream. It was already afternoon, and all my chores at home were done. I have a couple of hours before the kids get back. I fall into bed, and my thoughts return to that last day I had met Tarun. It must have been around twenty years ago. When we are in love, we foolishly think that nothing can break our commitment to each other. But the most mundane reasons can wreck up the strongest love. We met at the park one last time. Both of us were unabashedly crying. Tarun planned to pursue higher studies abroad, but my parents wanted me to marry and settle. Also, I loved him dearly and did not want to hinder his aspirations. Tarun requested I wait, but my parents were not ready. They quoted their age and responsibilities and insisted I have to marry within a year. More importantly, they had a groom waiting already. “I’d rather marry you than go abroad”, sobbed Tarun. “What? You are only twenty-three. Like me! It would be ridiculous for you to marry at this age.” “Why can’t you, too, come to the USA and study? Get a master’s? We can live together there and marry when we are both settled.” I smiled bitterly. “Me? Study abroad? My dad is retiring from his clerical job, and my salary is the one that will keep the family afloat. I have a brother who is still at college. This guy, Shankar, whom I am going to marry, has agreed to let me give my salary to the family till my brother gets a job.” Tarun wiped his eyes, blew his nose noisily and asked, “Do you love this stupid Shankar like you love me? Does he know you as well as I do? Can he keep you happy like I can?” I broke down. “No. No one can take your place, Tarun. I know you are the love of my life. I have racked my brain and thought and thought. There is no other solution. I have no choice, Tarun. But once I have made the choice, I will stick by it, no matter what. The moment I leave this park, I will forget you, devote my life to Shankar and ensure the marriage will work. I am going to continue in this job and give away my salary to my family. Maybe I will have kids and bring them up responsibly.” Aghast, Tarun looked at me in shock. “Why did we never consider the fact that we were of the same age and the time we wanted to marry would vary by a few years? When we fall in love, we never consider practicalities. As lovers, we only live in the moment. Maybe that’s why they say ‘Love is blind’. Maybe that’s why even genuine cases of love fail. “ “Anitha. Please don’t talk like a loser. Like a person who is already resigned to her fate. I still have hopes of being with you forever.” “Tarun, please promise you will forget me and devote your life to higher studies. Find another girl to fall in love with, marry, and be happy with her. Don’t ever try to find me. Promise me.” The despair in Tarun’s eyes broke my heart but not my resolve. *** After the marriage, I cut myself off from all our friends. Shankar lived in the next town, and I was glad to move out of the city of my childhood and not come across any common friends or familiar spots that would remind me of Tarun. Shankar kept his end of the bargain. I continued to give away my salary to my parents. My brother soon finished college and went abroad to study. My parents also passed away one after the other, and I was left all alone except for Shankar and the kids. My only contact with anyone from home was an occasional email from my brother. I had no idea where Tarun lived or what he was doing. And I kept my word. I GOT-ON with my life. I made sure I treated Shankar well and looked after the kids. True. As Tarun had predicted, there was no glorious love between me and Shankar, no breathtaking moments in our lives. I made sure my kids did well at school. I gave them the love they needed without any passion for it. When I see some mothers for whom kids are the centre of their lives and existence, I envy them. I wonder why I never feel like that. Shankar is a good husband but a stickler for rules. He lived by a timetable and insisted I do, too—the first kid after two years of marriage and the next one after a gap of three years. Own a house by forty. Have dinner by eight, go to bed by ten and have sex on every Wednesday. He was caring and affectionate in an impersonal way. But then, who am I to complain? I was equally detached from him. The only time I had seen him animated was when he saw me having coffee with a colleague. Thankfully, he did not react in any way then. But after I returned home, he talked to me quietly and asserted that I should work from home hereafter. However much I declared my innocence, he did not budge. I realised jealousy and possessiveness lurked behind that uncaring facade—well hidden but definitely present. *** One day, while shopping at a supermarket, I met a classmate from school, Guru. He was a part of the gang Tarun, and I played with. He was a favourite with everyone because although one of his legs was afflicted with polio, he never let it hinder his achievements. He was always the class topper and winner of all elocution and debate contests. Guru and I discussed a few teachers and some classmates, but he carefully did not refer to Tarun, nor did I. We exchanged phone numbers and spoke a few times. He was a psychiatrist who had moved to my town a few years back. I googled him later and found that he was well-known and had a thriving practice. But prudently, I did not tell Shankar about him. *** The sudden pangs in my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t had anything since morning. But I was in no mood to eat. Reluctantly, I got up, made a cup of coffee, and sat down to drink. During the initial days of marriage, I would think of Tarun constantly. But Slowly, his memories faded, lost in the humdrum of married life. Once in a while, he would pop up in my mind, and I would feel sick with sadness. However, as the years passed, thoughts of Tarun got rarer as I got caught up in my daily routine. My personal life and office work went on like clockwork. Without any highs or lows, life followed a predictable routine. I don’t even remember when I last thought of Tarun, but suddenly, out of the blue, I began getting the ‘dreams’ a year back. The dreams always followed the same pattern. Tarun and I would be young, the same age as we were when we parted. It would start with Tarun and me having had a tiff. It always featured the park. Tarun would saunter in, and I would feel the same old ardour for him. My heart would overflow with deep love. We would make up and talk to each other just like in the old days. The same witty banter, the same kind of jokes. What made these dreams different from the others was the extent of joy I would feel. I would marvel at every colour around. I would notice the leaves, the sun, and the flowers in great detail. The bird songs and twilight would dive straight into my consciousness and delight me to no end. But once I was awake and the dream stopped, I became aware of the reality: the disparity between both worlds embittered me. I felt disoriented and could not relate to the real world. My mind went numb, and I was left confused and disconcerted. During the day, thoughts of Tarun entered my mind, and I hated that I was not with him. I didn’t feel connected to my real family. I knew I was slipping down and underperforming at my job. I was not doing justice to my role as a wife and mother, and that bothered me a lot. *** I took my coffee cup to the sink, rinsed it out, and returned to the sofa. I thought logically about the dream, brushing aside its fairy-tale aspects. Even though the dream made me ecstatic and gave me euphoria-like feelings while it lasted, the aftermath was devastating. It left me drained and depleted, and I could not function to my total capacity. In any case, what was the use of the Dream? The person in it was not the real Tarun. It was only an image fuelled by my imagination. The Dreams would not change my life in any practical or helpful way. The sensible thing was that I had to find a way to stop the Dreams. Then, I would not be distracted and would focus on my life, even if it was an average one. I knew what I had to do. I picked my phone up, scrolled down to G and dialled Guru. *** GURU It’s a busy day for me at the clinic. Even though I started with only Psychiatry services in a one-room office in an obscure part of the town, I soon understood the potential for a full-scale clinic offering all mental health services under one roof. Now, my clinic is situated in an impressive building in an upscale locality of the town. It has two floors and includes a few psychologists, therapists, and counsellors, all working for me. Of course, I am in high demand as I have made a good name after many years of hard work. My phone suddenly rang, and I noticed the name ‘Manasi’ displayed on the mobile screen. I immediately picked it up. After the niceties, Manasi told me she wanted an appointment with me. Of course, I accommodated her, even if I had to get my secretary to move around some appointments. How can I not? The cliche about never forgetting your first love? Let me tell you, it’s totally accurate. I still remember that day when Manasi fell from the swing, and Tarun reached her before me only because my polio-afflicted leg did not let me walk as fast as him. I watched him from afar as he cradled her leg in his hands and spoke to her soothingly. I was filled with mad jealousy; that was the first time I felt these overpowering emotions called love and its first cousin, Jealousy. I wanted to be near her, talk to her, and let her know how much I loved her, but every time, Tarun was ahead of me, always next to her, keeping her away from me. Very soon, it became evident that they were in love. I knew I could not compete with the handsome and debonair Tarun—me, with my pronounced limp, thin body and an average-looking face. I knew there was no chance Manasi and I would get together. I watched from far, guarding my love fiercely. She and Tarun were devoted to each other and continued their passion until we reached college. That’s when we suddenly heard that Tarun was going abroad, and he and Manasi had split up. It was a shock to all of us. But by the time I thought of talking to Manasi about my feelings, she had already married someone and moved out of town. She entirely disappeared from all our circles. No one knew where she was and what she was doing. I nursed my broken heart and wholly focussed on my studies. I married a girl of my parents’ choice. My wife was dull, and my married life was boring. When I first saw Manasi in the supermarket, I felt thrilled. I watched her from behind the shelves surreptitiously. Sure, she had changed, but middle age suited her. Her joie-de-vivre was lost to time, but she appeared serene and inscrutable. Her stunning looks had mellowed into a graceful, timeless beauty. I loved the intrigue surrounding her. I pretended to bump into her. She spoke to me well and shared her phone number with me. We talked to each other a few times on the phone. It was always about our old life and childhood friends. She never spoke about her present life; most importantly, she never referred to Tarun or their lost love. *** Suddenly, out of the blue, she has called me and asked for an appointment. Before she could get to my room, Manasi had to complete an exhaustive questionnaire and provide data about her life. The blinds were drawn, and my room had a relaxed atmosphere. Manasi was talking with closed eyes, and I was listening carefully. After more than an hour, she appeared more relaxed than when she had come in. We discussed a few relevant things to the dream: her romantic life with Shankar, feelings of fulfilment, her role as a mother, and her insecurities. Finally, I asked her, “So, what exactly do you want? What are you expecting out of this session?’ She looked at me confidently and replied, “I want your help to stop me from getting these dreams.” I kept the surprise from showing in my voice and replied, “Why? Doesn’t dreams about Tarun thrill you? Why not enjoy the dream as a pleasant reprieve from the humdrum of life, a brief respite from the constant pressures of your job?” Manasi lowers her lids and says firmly, “No. The exhilaration of the dream lasts for a brief time, but the after-effects linger for way yoo long.” For a few moments, she is very still. Then she continues, “Guru, These dreams are not going to help me in any way. If they can wipe away all these years and help me get a life with Tarun, I would have them a million times per day. But I know that’s not going to happen.” I nod, and she continues, “Also, Shankar is very possessive and jealous, and I am afraid one night, I may blurt out Tarun’s name in my dreams. What if he finds out about my love for Tarun? It would only destroy whatever life I am having now. I know it’s not perfect, but at least it is secure and settled. I don’t want the equilibrium I have achieved in my life to be disturbed by these dreams in any way.” My mind is churning with possibilities. But of course, I keep a poker face. I take my time while Manasi fidgets. “There is no way I can do that, Manasi. Psychiatry has no way of stopping dreams. If there was a way, then we could completely stop nightmares. But I do have a suggestion for you. From talking to you, I have realised that there is constant pressure in your mind. Office work, personal problems and the kids exert continuous stress.” I smiled and continued, “I prescribe a holiday for you. Can you get away for a week? All alone by yourself?” Manasi seemed disappointed but agreed to my proposal. “I do have a lot of unavailed leave of absence. The kids’ exams just got over, too, but I have no clue where to go.” I interrupted, “If I may recommend this not as your doctor but as your friend. Do you remember Karthik, our childhood friend? He has an Airbnb at the neighbouring hill station. It’s just a few hours by train. I will give you his number and also talk to him. You can go there and spend a week. It’s a comfortable place with beautiful walking trails. The cook there is amazing, and the place is very safe.” I forwarded the details to her. As she left, I said, “Please keep me informed about your trip.” *** MANASI Shankar did not seem very happy when I proposed that I was going on a solo trip, but he did not stop me, either. I spoke to Karthik and he confirmed my booking. Guru was already in touch with him. I told the kids to mind themselves, and if their dad gave me a good report about them, I would take them to their favourite pizza outlet. Finally I called Guru, thanked him and told him I would be away for a week. Shankar dropped me at the railway station wordlessly and left even before I went into the station. I hefted my suitcase onto the train and climbed in. I checked for my seat and settled in. The train slowly chugged out of the station and gathered speed. That’s when I heard an authoritative voice talk in a dominating way from the next cabin. The voice felt very familiar. I slowly got up and pretended to go to the bathroom, glancing sideways as I passed. A family occupied the cabin: A couple with two small children. I made sure my face was not visible to them. Yes! I was right. It was Tarun. It looked like he was yelling at his wife, who was holding the crying kids, berating her for not keeping them quiet. I returned and huddled into my seat. The harangue continued until it was time for me to get off the train. I could hear Tarun criticising her, belittling her intelligence and carping on her abilities as a mother. *** By the time I reached the Airbnb, I was cured of my ‘Tarunomania”. I spent most of the time lying in my bed and crying my heart out. This was the guy I had idolised all these years, the person I had put on a high pedestal, next only to God. I had spent almost all my life in love with this monster. Despite his coldness, Shankar was a much nicer husband. He had never once raised his voice at me. I spent the whole week slowly plucking all my memories out and ensuring no trace of Tarun was left. When I reached home, my face lit up when I saw Shankar and hugged the kids tightly. I saw a reciprocating smile on Shankar’s face, and I melted when the kids would not leave me alone, claiming they had missed me. *** GURU As Manasi’s doctor, I had gone beyond my scope and done a few things to help her stop dreaming about Tarun. As a respected doctor, I had no right to carry out this subterfuge, but I did it out of my love for her. I had understood something very clearly. Manasi’s life was without glamour or intrigue. She lived a life filled with a mechanical schedule. Though a nice person, Shankar did not have an iota of passion in him. Manasi was going through a midlife crisis when her heart longed for some good old romance. Her mind identified that there would not be much time left to enjoy the enchantment of LOVE. In her mind, love was linked inexorably to Tarun. So, the dreams started as compensation for the lack of emotions in her life. The dreams tried to make up for whatever was missing in her life. The park was where she had enjoyed the euphoria of first love, and it’s blossoming. It was where her heart took refuge when she wanted to feel the bliss of love. That’s why the dreams featured both Tarun and the Park. I knew I had to delink Tarun from romance in Manasi’s mind, and then the dreams about him would stop. Contacting Tarun was very easy. I knew he was back in the same city and working for an MNC. He agreed to help, and I explained what was needed. He messaged me when the deed was done. Today he was in our town to wanted to meet me. *** Tarun and I met at a coffee shop. I explained to him Manasi’s repeated dreams about him and how she did not want the dreams. I thanked him for doing what he did on the train so that Manasi could get closure on her love for him. “Please thank your wife and children from me for helping with the deception.” Tarun’s smile held a hint of sadness. “Wife? That was a friend and her kids. I never married.” His voice took on a sombre tone. “I have never been able to forget Manasi. Not when I went abroad, not when I came back. I had promised never to look for her or try to meet her. Even though I kept my promise, I could never get her out of my mind. That’s why I could never marry.” Tarun turned towards me, and I could read the agony on his face. “When you asked my help to make her stop loving me, and I agreed, do you know what a huge sacrifice it took from me? I pretended to be selfish and self-centred so she could forget me and get on with life. I had to make her HATE me when all I ever wanted was for her to love me. I would readily lay down my life to be with her—not just in a dream but in real life. Because she still is the only love of my life. My love for Manasi is ‘till death do us as apart’. *** A few days later, I told my secretary not to disturb me and picked up the phone to call Manasi. I would start casually, enquiring how she was feeling, but this would definitely not be the last call. Now that Tarun is out of her life, there will be a vacancy in her mind. And now, She is mature enough to look beyond my physical deformity. No. I definitely have no interest in something sordid like an affair. More than getting into bed with her, what I really want is to share Manasi’s soul. I know how to play the game to get there. Remember, I am a psychiatrist. She has bared her heart to me, and her Dreams have given me a lot of insights into her complicated mind. She is a challenge I want to meet. She is a puzzle I want to solve. Manasi answers my call, and her friendly ‘Hello’ holds so much promise. Authors note: I know I am not a qualified psychiatrist or psychologist, and what I have written may be factually wrong. I have taken some liberties to make the story interesting, and I hope my story does not offend any doctors.