Tat Tvam Asi(Thou art That)

By DEBASREE BANERJEE

Primagravida, twenty-nine, accustomed to being healthy

I sit huddled in a corner; it's pristine white,

otherwise would have made patients feel clean, sanitised,

Patients? She sneers.

See... it's a small way between being healthy and sick

a mere dirt road that takes you there.

I call her B**ch! A sadist, who creates elaborate castles.

Houses of cards, arranged neatly, even precisely,

but vulnerable all the same.

Same as you. A tiny wisp of breeze and how it tumbles down.

Didn’t you say the other day; you want to go the old way?

No USG, no injections, no fusses, a normal homebirth.

Look at yourself now!

Shut up!

It's the other one, matronly and more patient,

who didn't come barging in the same night as the others.

She has been always there, chiding me when I strayed.

She tries to soothe me.

Didn't they tell you, your parents,

that you ought to take care during this time?

You shouldn't stay out for long, watch only happy movies,

not the ones in which Robin Williams dies

and makes way around heaven, hell... or purgatory.

Dante's not always good for you,

leave the intellectual pieces for other times when

you're better equipped to handle all the heavy stuff.

You shouldn't have discounted generations of wisdom...

I call her Rachel. It comforts me. She looks like

the runaway nurse from Shutter Island, the movie.

The one hiding in a cave. I shudder. Caves... they scare me.

How many times have I told everyone here that this is thanatophobia?

Goodness! Not again.

The cheeky guy in white tee, worsted denims and sneakers.

An expert in all kinds of phobia.

Agoraphobia, fear of open spaces.

Claustrophobia, fear of closed spaces.

And now... Thanatophobia.

What is that? A feeble voice asks.

It's the freckled anorexic teenager with severe acne.

She's the one who always comes in at the most inopportune moment,

bringing down my house of cards. Unwittingly, asking questions,

looking for answers.

Who am I? What place is this? Why am I here? Where is God?

Is there afterlife? Would I get to meet my beloved pets on the rainbow bridge?

Will I stumble around like Robin Williams, or will I have my Guardian waiting?

How does it feel to die? What if the body still feels pain when they burn you?

or worse... when they bury you under layers of earth, for an eternity?

The cheeky nerd sniggers.

See; I told you. This is thanatophobia.

Fear of death, ridiculously awaiting an eternity, an afterlife

that isn't even there. God? What a grandiose concept, but baseless...

The ATP depletion causes the actin-myosin cross bridges to crumble,

BOOM! You’re gone, babe. Nothing after this. Period!

Stop him! Stop him for God's sake.

The teenager clutches at handfuls of her hair.

Covers her ears, so as not to listen to the mindless shattering of her hopes. I get anxious too. What will happen to the carefully assembled shards that make this life? What about the pets that passed on?

No rainbow bridge? No angels to guide through the vast light? But the acne-riddled teenager is so scared, she looks like she’s going to die.

Doesn't he know I'm afraid? Oh God! I broke your house of cards again.

No... no... I don't want to lose this baby. They say I'll,

if I'm unable to get back to normal.

What? You're pregnant? For what?

This is Jude. Looks like Jude Law's character from 'Road to Perdition'

The murderous villain who shoots Tom Hanks and then clicks a photo.

See. I'll come to claim you in the end. Even if you hide till you're ninety.

And then, I'll show you there is no heaven and no hell. Only purgatory.

The forever limbo state. Like in Inception? Marion Cotillard's character?

No liberation! No salvation! No redemption!

The nerd grabs him by his throat and they end up sprawling on the floor, jostling and punching, kicking each other in a frenzy.

It ain't like that. There's nothing. A void. No afterwards. No afterlife.

Both are opinionated, eccentric and ruthless.

Hello! Your tinnitus. It's never leaving. You'll have to learn to live with it.

And what psychiatric problems? You're educated. You need to self-counsel.

I can't prescribe drugs for you. Your mom... she was saying you haven't slept

Since a month at least, two maybe. I no longer remember....

What? It's dangerous for the baby. You need to sleep.

Not as long as they fight like dogs.... But yeah, what do you know?

Just like I didn't a month ago. Thought all these are for the mentally weak. I was a snob. But I submit myself now. Alas! To whom?

Doctors are helpless.

Medicine useless.

Science doesn't know.

We leave the pristine white Doctor's waiting room.

It's a moment of silence after all the brawl. I decide.

I'm not going to ask anyone to leave, I'll make peace with what they say,

but I'll find out my own version of truth. Faith must be one's own.

So... six years later, I'm a believer, a theist, and profoundly spiritual.

The molecules of gases that used to randomly hit the walls of the container, still do that, at times.

At times, the nerd and Jude still wreak havoc, trying to disturb the idyll I deliberately created. My son thinks I’m not a great mom, and maybe he’s correct. But someday, he’ll read my books, poems, stories and journal entries. Maybe, someday he’ll understand…

But the people in my mind - They fight, they laugh and they make fun of the new entrant.

The monk, who just sits in a corner, and always smiles.

He never speaks, not at least to them.

But I can hear him say softly....

Tat tvam asi…

Thou art That, Thou art He, Thou art everything you want to be.

*

By DEBASREE BANERJEE