Posted by: R!P | March 8, 2010

The doc says ..

Contd from here

I am in the front of his office. Dr. Naitik Pradhan

“Is the doctor in?”
“Yes. Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes, I do. In the name of Saumik Rajan.”

I never give real names at my psychologist’s office. It’s a safety net. A pre-emptive strike against madness. The doctor knows me in person, but not my real name. So, even if I am mad, he doesn’t know whether its Saumik or John or Rohit.

The painting on the wall is an illusion. It is a window that opens into a window that opens into a window. The sort of 3D pictures you get in e-mail at work every other day spending your 20$ an hour day glaring at a computer screen, fishing for work worthy enough, or people worthy enough. I love it.

Black Cushions, a couch, steel grey tables, shiny glass tabletops, dark musty curtains, and a rocking chair. That is predominantly all of it. There is sheen all over. I am afraid to touch anything. The couch looks like it has never been sat upon, and if I do sit here, my ass-prints will demean its eternal silent beauty of sorts. The place is flawless. At one-and-a-half-thousand rupees an hour, I too would have a flawless office ! I would. I hear the flush sound from the adjoining rest-room and the doctor emerges.

“Hi, Doctor? How are you?”
“Burp!” Naitik let out a repulsive burp.
“Chicken curry for lunch” I thought but did not say out loud. That is a problem with psychologists, they think all humor is a defense mechanism, or attention-seeking means. But, some humor is just for the sake it, hilarious quips on others for a personal smile !
“I am well, just a little upset stomach.”
“Ahem, try Pudin hara. It helps me with my troubles.”
“Okay. Can you spell it?”
There I was spelling a stomach ache medicine while shelling 100s of rupees on an hourly meeting that was supposed to help me ! Darn.
“So, Saumik, how have we been? How do you feel? Have you started the treatment?” And he pored over the prescription from last week looking for what had he prescribed for my non-bizzare delusional disorder. It is a rare disease, equivalent to mind-fuck. I am slowly losing the distinction between reality and illusion and apparently should cycle – yes you read it right – to cure it ! I mean, cycle .. pedaling a cycle cures my mind !
“I am feeling better doctor. No crashes or insomnia attacks over the last week. I have been cycling and it does help me focus.” I told him what he should hear. If I don’t get treated, I don’t get free. Any price is small for an hour of free mind ..

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  1. […] Naitik Pradhan Contd from here […]


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