Vadiraja Mysore Srinivasa

Drama

4.6  

Vadiraja Mysore Srinivasa

Drama

Case Number 21

Case Number 21

8 mins
449


I drove slowly not to miss the street numbers which were barely visible. Finally, I found what I was looking for; 6th cross!


I slowed down further and peeked on either side of the road to find the house number 76 which, eventually I found at the end of the road; in fact, it was the last house in the street.


I hesitated after parking my car on the opposite side of the road and looked at the house. It was a single-story house with a large garden and old wrought iron gate looming in the front.


There was no sign of a dog.


I got down from the car, locked it and then looked at the large trunks lying in the back seat and contemplated my next move.


Should I carry them? Can I come back for it after my meeting? Is she at home in the first place? I wondered!

I decided that postponing what I need to do is not going to help, though as a psychiatrist it was a new role for me.


I adjusted my overcoat, opened the gate and stood in front of the door and searched for the calling bell button. I couldn’t find any. I looked at the large brass handle on the door and tapped it, rather loudly, and waited.


The door opened to reveal a girl of almost of my age, wearing a night gown standing and staring at me.


I cleared my throat and said, “Are you Anjana?” She looked at me and squinted her eyes as if trying to recognize me. She had the same beautiful and large eyes like her mother and high cheek bones and aristocratic nose. The eye brows too were thick and almost met in the middle.


I was surprised by the identical looks and new instantly, that the girl standing and staring at me was indeed, her daughter, Anjana. But I waited for the girl’s affirmation.


“Yes. I am Anjana and who are you, Sir?”


I couldn’t believe my ears. Had I closed my eyes; I would have mistaken the voice for Arti. The resemblance in voice was immaculate.

I recovered and said, “I am Dr. Vishwanath. Can I come inside? I need to speak to you for few minutes, if you don’t mind.”


Anjana again squinted her eyes and opened the door wide, stepped aside and let me in.


I entered, what appeared like a large living room and it was decorated very tastefully; there was a large sofa and equally large teapoy, walls were decorated with pictures of birds and animals and most of them were freely roaming either in open or in thick jungles.


Not even one bird or animal in a cage. I stood staring at the pictures when Anjana spoke.


“You seem to be fascinated by the pictures, Doctor. Anything unusual you observe in them? Please do take a seat.”


I took my eyes of pictures and looked at Anjana. She was tall, almost 5 feet and may be 7 or 8 inches and she was barefooted. I was struck by the height as well. I recollected that Arti too was very tall.


I sat on the sofa which had decorated extra covers neatly put on them and adjusted my coat, looked at Anjana who was now sitting in the front on the other side of the teapoy and spoke in a measured tone.


“Anjana. First and foremost, I am really sorry to be barging in without any prior notice. I am Doctor Viswanath, psychiatrist.” I extended my hand and she offered a limp hand and I politely shook it before continuing. “I have come all the way from Bangalore to meet you. I request you to just spare, say, 10 or 15 minutes of your time.


Anjana, I have come here as an emissary of a patient of mine whom I have been meeting and treating for almost a year in my clinic and this visit too is to fulfil her wish, if I may say so.” I paused and looked at Anjana.


“Your patient? Who is she, Doctor? And why did she request you to meet me?” Anjana spoke and squinted her eyes in confusion and may be with a bit of caution too.


I hesitated for a few seconds. The next few sentences are very important and maybe I must exercise a bit of restraint with the usage of words, I thought.


“Anjana, what I am about to say may come both as surprise and may be a bit strange. But every word I speak and every incident I narrate is accurate and I must say, true as I perceive it.


As a practicing psychiatrist, I get lots of patients whose real-life stories and problems and pains do affect me though, temporarily. We are trained not get attached to the patients emotionally; this affects our treatment too, if we are not careful.


However, one patient who came to me almost a year ago was, should I say, a little different from others. She was around 58 when she met me first. Her name is Arti.”


I looked at her large eyes expecting recognition of the name. There was none. So, I continued.


“Arti was very ill both physically and mentally. It took me almost 6 months of meeting to fully understand her problems and start the therapy..


You see, Anjana, Arti fell in love with a man when she was around 27 or 28 and the man deserted her before marriage. I wasn’t told the reason by Arti; maybe she too is not aware, I suppose. But, Arti was pregnant and did not want to abort though, her parents pressurized her.

She delivered a girl and her parents, without her knowledge, took the child and left it in an orphanage.


Arti was told that her child died in delivery and even the concerned doctors, who were bribed by the parents, confirmed it to her.


Arti found out the truth after almost a year later.


She got to know that the child was given for adoption. She searched for the parents who adopted her daughter but later she found that they took the baby abroad to an unknown country.”


I took a deep breath and cleared my throat.


“Arti’s daughter, Anjana is you.”


Anjana stood up both in shock and in anger.


“Doctor Vishwanath or whoever you are. I want you to leave my house right now. I know the whole story about my birth and I have been hating my mother who left me on the orphanage from the time I knew the story.


I have listened to your version of the story and honestly, I won’t believe you. The truth., Doctor, is something else. I know that I was born out of wedlock, the desertion of my so-called mother’s would be husband etc. are all made up. The fact is, she conceived me out of wedlock and was ashamed. She delivered and dumped me.”


Tears running, Anjana slumped on the sofa and started crying loudly.


I waited for Anjana to stop crying without saying anything.


“Anjana, when Arti first came to see me and told her story, I also didn’t believe it completely.

Would you believe me if I told you that for the past 30 years since she came to know that her child is alive, she wrote a letter every day!

Of course, she need not justify what happened, but remember, she was innocent and it is her parents who dumped you and told a lie that you were dead.


Outside, in my car I have two huge aluminum trunks full of letters that your mother, Arti, wrote hoping that one day, she will find you and present the letters and her feelings to you. Alas, here I am fulfilling the desire of a lady whom I personally believe is the most adorable mother in the whole world; she never married, she spent her entire life looking after children like you who were left behind in the orphanage without expecting anything in return, except, perhaps, praying with the god for your well-being.”


I felt exhausted and slumped on the sofa. I had never felt so tired in my life. I knew that finding Arti’s daughter was one thing but convincing her would be another.


I stood up as if to leave only to find Anjana standing in front of me with folded hands.


“Doctor, are you really telling me the truth? Please don’t leave just like that. Is that how I landed in the orphanage? Tell me where is my mom now? I want to see her and trust me I have a million question to ask!” Anjana too sat down on the sofa and started crying.


I looked at the weeping Anjana and felt sad. How can I tell her that her mother is no more? The cancer killed her slowly for the past 3 years or so? Instead, I held Anjana’s hands, squeezed it and spoke.


“What your mother was and how much she loved you and what she wants you to do, shall I say, her incomplete works is all there in those letters that she wrote.


Anjana, your mother, Arti, died 15 days ago; before she breathed her last breath, she virtually pleaded me to find you and hand over the letters. I am sure you will find answers to all your questions in those letters. Trust me when I say this; I have read every one of those letter in that trunk.”


I went out, unlocked my car and laboriously pulled the two heavy trunks and left it inside Anjana’s house.

 

Anjana looked at those huge trunks and with gratitude filled eyes bowed in front of me and spoke in a low voice.


“Doctor, you haven’t told me as a doctor why you have taken the trouble of finding me? My mother was just one of your patients is it not? So, why did you take so much of trouble?”


I looked at Anjana and contemplated what to say. I walked past her, slumped on the sofa and looked up at Anjana and spoke.


“When I read those letters written by your mother, Arti, I found out many things. Searching you became the most important thing in my life Anjana, because, one of the most disturbing and perhaps, surprising thing I found out, who your father was?”


Anjana turned sharply towards me and came close, her eyes spewing fire, she said.


“You found out? Please doctor, tell who was that man responsible for my birth and the misery that my mother went through? Who is that man who deserted an innocent girl with pregnancy like a coward? Please doctor…”


I looked at Anjana, lowered my head and spoke.


“The man who deserted your mother, the man who is responsible for your birth is the same man who happened to be my father!”


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