Excerpt – The Madhouse

Wall-to-wall glasses. An illusory play of light on the walls is such that it hides more than what it reveals. Many certificates that the doctor has received from time to time, over a long period, hang on one of the walls of the clinic-certificates with beautifully rich, heavy paper and fine printing; an array of them framed in elegant wooden frames. Their beauty so astounding that the moment one sees them, one is filled with the feeling that they are phoney.

The patients wait for their turn in the clinic’s waiting room patiently; it has plush, elegant couches on three sides. The cushions are so soft and fluffy that the moment one sits on them, one sinks into them; and then keeps on sinking, further and further. Head in the heavens and buttocks on earth. The room has many designer chairs, too.

And there is a splendid nook in the waiting room as well.A beautiful receptionist sits there.

Magnificent marble tiles for people to walk on. And such a regal false ceiling above one’s head that even the insane would be proud that they got to sit underneath such a royal ceiling.
Well, everything in this clinic is so resplendent, grand and marvellous that, for once, one can’t believe that this place is for treating lunatics. But they are treated here. Although, how much effect this grandeur has on them is not known.

Anyhow, this is the clinic of the city’s most famous psychiatrist. Back in the old days, he would have been known as the ‘doctor of psychos’. Nowadays, somebody would have to be crazy to call him that. But he has kept this clinic of his glitzy and glittering. The doctor knows that he is in the market. ‘In today’s glitzy world, even a doctor has to keep his clinic glitzy. Otherwise who would be so crazy to come here and pay loads of money to have their insanity treated?’ He, this same psychiatrist, was laughing and telling this to somebody the other day.

There are so many patients in the clinic waiting to see the doctor that it is kind of scary. Oh, my God! So many insane! What is going on in this world? Is the number of insane on the rise? Really? Or is it that even the wise ones are being declared lunatics?

On one of the walls of the clinic, the Hippocratic Oath hangs, framed in an elegant wooden frame.

An oath to selflessly serve the patients.

The Bazaar treats these oaths, declarations, slogans and aphorisms admiringly-and with the utmost respect. Just see for yourself, even here, where this oath is hanging…

No, no. The oath is not being hanged, like on a noose. It’s just that it is imprisoned in a classy, black ebony frame. You wouldn’t be able to tell if it is in distress hanging there. In fact, that expensive frame attracts all the attention so quickly that one hardly notices the words of the oath. There is a huge market for aphorisms, platitudes, and quotes, too, in the marketplace these days. The Bazaar loves that. People love to hang them in ornate, carved and expensive frames in prominent places in their offices, homes and shops. When the frame used is expensive, glitzy and engraved, there is no risk of somebody really paying attention to the real thought framed within it.

A portrait of Hippocrates is also in there, along with his oath in the frame.

Just look at his face in the portrait! He looks as if he is in great pain. Those who know say that the pained look on his face isn’t because of the healthcare business, that he has had that look from the beginning. Anyway, anybody who has spent all of his life thinking and worrying about the world would end up having a long face.

And if you look just underneath Hippocrates’ nose, there is a wholesale market of patients. One of them, who is waiting for his turn to come, just glanced at the wall with Hippocrates’ portrait on it. He felt as if frame-restrained Hippocrates is wriggling within the frame. ‘Yaar, I hope he doesn’t fall off if he is wriggling so much!’ The patient felt that he should share his concern with his wife, but he kept mum. Who is going to listen to him here? Everybody thinks that he has gone off the deep end. It is better to keep quiet. To hell with Hippocrates. He ain’t my business.

However, he did notice that the old man sitting next to him also saw the same thing. ‘Did you see that?, he asked, signalling towards the portrait. The old man nodded at him and put his finger on his lips, signalling him back to keep quiet.

Both of them broke into laughter. They both looked at Hippocrates and looked at each other, and started smiling. The receptionist stared at them closely and waved at them. ‘Sit quietly, Uncle…’ She conveyed this wordlessly by staring at them unblinking.

The young man accompanying the old man, too, stared at them. ‘Why don’t you sit comfortably, Papa?’ he chided him, and then looked at the beautiful receptionist and stared with a smile. He was staring at the beautiful receptionist with an expression across his face which one gets if one mixes the feeling of ‘what can I do, he is my dad’ with ‘you are beautiful’.

The young man is also staring at his watch impatiently and feeling frustrated. Perhaps, he had to be somewhere and he was being delayed here. His face has a more pained look than Hippocrates’. ‘How long will it be?’ he asked the gorgeous girl sitting at the reception desk.

‘It’s your turn after them’, she replied, smiling.

And at that very moment, Hippocrates scornfully spat on people sitting underneath his portrait.

Thank God that the old man saw him spitting at the last minute, otherwise he and his son would have been sprayed with his spittle. The old man suddenly jumped from his seat and while he was jumping, he shoved his son sideways, saving him from Hippocrates’ spittle too.

‘What are you doing!?’ the young man screamed, stumbling towards the receptionist’s glass table.

‘That…that old fella was spitting on you’, the old man pointed his finger at the portrait hung on the wall next to the oath.

Enraged, the young man started staring at his father and then kept on staring. The old man cowered and sat down. The young man angrily looked at his father as if he wanted to devour him alive, and then apologised to the receptionist and said, ‘He does these wacky things all day long!’

The girl smiled and nodded at him, empathising with his predicament.

‘Now, just sit tight quietly, okay? Not a peep out of your mouth! It is our turn next’, the young man said to his father while helping him ease into a sofa.

Looking at the old man, the other crazies also started smiling. Some were already smiling without any reason before all of this happened, lost in their thought-because, after all, they were insane, right!

This was such a time that it was only crazies who could smile.