Umi and K-Oz, the Split Personality: July 2010

IN SEARCH OF JOY
By Umair Ishaq Khan

He kept wondering where he had gone wrong. He just could not come up with a valid explanation for her behaviour. But this had always been the case. Her behaviour at most instances was unpredictable; and later, incomprehensible. It was also true that she never apologized, but quietly made up for her rudeness with a favourite dish for dinner and a romantic evening in the living room after that. This time, though, she just would not talk. This time he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

The doctors had warned him that this day would come. Wait a minute! Had she found out about the doctors? Certainly, even a normal woman would react this way if she found out that her husband was sending live web cam feeds of her every move to a bunch of white-coated individuals claiming to know what was going on in her mind more than herself. But this was a long shot. She had not found out about the cameras in six years, there was no reason to believe that she had this time. The possibility, though, could not be completely overruled.

The doctors had also said that she was in constant fear of something. Had her fears come to life? She had always managed to avoid the topic earlier. Should he push harder this time? He decided to take the chance.

As he entered the dimly lit living room, he could clearly see her blood shot eyes in the light of the reading lamp. Knowing the answer, he still proceeded to ask, “What’s the matter Sab? You seem to have been crying.”
“No hun’, it’s nothing. It’s just that this book is really emotional,” she answered with a blank expression.

Normally, he would let the matter be after this response; as per the advice of the doctors. But this time he decided to get it out of her. So he sat down beside her and started caressing her hair as if nothing had happened.

Soon, as he had hoped, she rested her head on his shoulder and started weeping. He decided not to push too hard, and let her weep quietly. This was the first time in six years that she had shown any emotion after the period of indifference. But, then again, this was the first time it had lasted more than a day. Soon she got tired of weeping and fell asleep in his arms. He continued to caress her hair, not disheartened as the weeping was definite progress.

A quarter hour later, he was woken up by the sound of mumbling. With some delight, he strained to hear what she was saying in her sleep.
“Leave her alone ... don’t beat her … it isn’t her fault … she was helping me with homework.”

This was all he could make out. He knew that the doctors had heard this too and decided to visit the clinic the next day. That night they slept in the living room. The next morning was a sunny one and things were back to normal as he was enjoying his favourite breakfast. Nothing of last night was mentioned and he left for work with his mind full of possible diagnoses.

His day at work was not very productive as he could not concentrate on his work. On his way back, he stopped at the clinic. As he entered, he was met by the doctor at the reception.
“Welcome Mr. Khan,” was the warm greeting with a smile.
“You can call me Umair, Dr. Richards, I’ve been telling you this for the last six years.”
“I will, as soon as you start calling me Cliff,” the doctor replied with a smile.
“Alright, Cliff, so I presume it was me that you were waiting for at the reception.”
“Yes you’re right,” the doctor said, his smile vanishing.
He noticed this and asked, “Anything serious doctor?”
The doctor, maintaining his bland expression, said, “I’m afraid, Umair, you’re gonna have to ask Mrs. Khan about her past now.”

He was expecting this answer and maintained his composure. But his eyes gave him away.
“I know you promised her never to ask her about her past,” the doctor continued, “ I know it goes against the very essence of your marriage. But it’s integral if you want to save her life.”

He had always known this would happen one day. He knew it was inevitable. But still, when it happened, he felt himself shatter from inside. The doctor’s words had created a hollow inside him.

He said to himself, “The six years of silence may have been slow poison to our marriage. But this might prove to be nothing less than a catastrophe.”

There was a ten minute silence between the two men, which seemed longer that the six years of her illness. Finally, he quietly took the doctor’s leave and walked home, a broken man.

At home, he was greeted with his favourite dish for supper, but he could not eat much. She noticed this and asked, “What’s the matter dear, you seem to be tense. All well at work?”
“Yes work is fine,” he answered trembling, “But I need to ask you something you might not like.”

She smiled at him, as if she knew exactly what was coming and said, “I know dear, my silence has been little less than torture for you these past six years. But for your sake, lets forget all our promises today.”

His eyes welled up with relief and love for his wife. He held her hand and only managed to say, “Speak.”

“My story is a small one,” she said, her smile vanishing, “My father was a chronic alcoholic. He used to torture my mother at the slightest pretext. Her face was full of marks of cigarette burns and bruises caused by his ring. Whenever my mother wanted to spend time with me and not give in to his carnal desires, he raped her with the brutality of a savage. Day by day, I saw my mother dying with pain.”

Her cheeks were now black with streams of tears. He was holding her in his arms now, but was silent.

“But death came slowly,” she continued, “One day, my father came back home with his eyes blood-shot. He pulled her into the room and satisfied himself. He then brought her out and told her that he had lost his job for breaking a chair on his boss’s head.

“The next day there was a line of men outside our house, offering my father money, as if he was auctioning something. That night, there was a visitor at our house. I recognized him as the man shaking hands with my father when the rest of them left that day. My father had locked my mother in their room that day and had told her to dress well. She probably did not know about the daytime visitors. When the man arrived, he showed him to the room where she was locked. He locked them in the room and told me to go to sleep.

“Next morning, when I woke up, I saw that there were many people in our house, including policemen. I walked out of my room and peered at what everyone was looking at. There lay my mother, dead with the mark of a rope on her neck.

“I was twelve then, and knew exactly what had happened. That day, I ran away right from the graveyard. I knew where my maternal aunt lived and I went straight to her house from there. My aunt was a childless widow and she got me through high school. After that I worked in a call center for two years and then got admission in the city’s top computer university, where I met you. After that you know that you married me when my aunt passed away and I was left all alone in this world. I am sorry to tell you, honey, that it took you six whole years to earn my trust completely. I could never trust a man after what I had been through, and my fits of indifference were because of my guilt for not trusting a man like you and making you promise never to ask me anything. Day before yesterday, I found out about the cameras and instead of feeling angry, I came to realize the trouble you were going through for my sake.”

He was speechless. All he could do was to hold on to her even more tightly.

That night they were given a surprise party by Dr. Richards, who of course, had heard everything. They removed the cameras together and then had a splendid dinner, prepared by Dr. Richards’ team. That night, the fire at the fireplace in the living room glowed with a joy it had never seen before.

Umi and K-Oz, the Split Personality

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Chicken Soup for the Soul

My First English Song