So Dear Brain
by Chandra Ghosh Jain
So Dear Brain,
When I sit in meditation and allow the divine light to focus on each part of my body from head to toe; I linger on the damaged bit of the brain hoping it will heal sooner and set me free from the never ending nightmare my life has become. From being a play-boy prince I have become a demi-man a sub human?
I have clear recollection of riding on my favourite mare Roopmati and galloping in full speed to field a goal. It was a clear sunshiny blue December sky. I knew I made a pretty picture in my new blue and white Polo costume as all the photographers went berserk photographing me.
There was Kiya my latest heart throb wearing dark glasses sitting next to my sister, all smiles and already wearing a benign proprietary look on her perfect oval face. She was ready to take on the role of the princess of Lodhpur. But I liked her she was the daughter of some small (hamlet almost) town’s ex-royalty. My parents’ approved of her- pedigree, education and most of all her beauty. It made matters that much easier that she seemed so enthralled by me. My string of affairs with top notch models and actresses made me a permanent feature of all gossip magazines. I was rated a perfect polo player. Swift and accurate getting the largest goals for my side. All the top competing polo clubs were desperate to get me. But I was concentrating on getting Lodhpur Polo Club the top honours. Life couldn’t have been any better, when all of a sudden a huge horse collided into us and Roopmati for that fateful fraction of a second couldn’t get out of the way. And then there was total inky black darkness…
Dear Brain particularly that crucial bit the doctors call CPA that controls all my body functions please heal, otherwise my beautiful mother who has kept her smile and energies will soon fade before my eyes as everyone else has. Initially I did see flickering images of a horrified Kiya. Tearful and brave in turns. Then it was replaced by a male presence who was referred to deferentially by everyone around me as ‘Papa Sa’. I presumed it was Kiya’s father taking an interest in my recovery. After a brief while even this one dropped out and the only constant were my staff and my mother.
My left hand and leg have developed a will of their own. It is with great difficulty that I am able to stand and take a few faltering steps. The food dribbles down my chin and I often get choking fits after a few sips of coffee. I often have delusions of strange short women in mini-sarees filling my room. Then I just want to leave my room and the palace and escape to some other place. There are times I see people who have died long ago crowding around me, ancient aunts, great uncles with bristly moustaches. At times I am convinced some long lost cousin has come to visit. I know by the strange looks passed between the staff and my mother that they agree with me and humour me as they would a recalcitrant child.
I can see my mother constantly praying when she is not trying to encourage me in my physical activities or coaxing me to eat. I am often reminded of the last Czar and Czarina who were saddled with a heamophilic son. But at least Alexis was sane unlike me who doesn’t remember even what I had for breakfast. What he said was clear, while everyone around me has to conjecture my growls and moans. He could see while either I see double or blurred shadows and images. Yes my hearing was always acute now I can hear whispers even down the long corridor. Different foot-falls tell me who is coming or going out of my room. I wonder if Alexis had to depend on the intuitive as I do. I know who means well and who has just come to gloat on my misery.
Brain, do you hear my pleas? Can you feel my humiliations? Or have you decided to recover only enough to make me feel my disabilities intensely? And then one fine day just become perfectly normal and like Sleeping Beauty I will awaken to find a world older and changed….
Dear Brain are you an independent entity? All powerful. Do you obey any other’s command?
I am told that my will and mind will get me out of this mess. But aren’t the Mind and Will subsets of the Brain? I just want the oblivion of sleep but I am not allowed to. There is always a masseur or an acupressure man to keep working on my body. Kneading and pinching in the hope of reviving the dead nerves.
I hear all the old female relatives mournfully mention my karma as the reason for my paralytic state. My mother stiffens and bows her head. My proud graceful mother who always held her head high and whose almond shaped eyes brimmed with pride on every small achievement of mine. So Brain is it my Karma or my Will? My Dadisa always mentioned to me that at the time of conception of a human, how much he will earn how much he will be educated and when he will die are all decided. So are we mere automations? On the other hand I am constantly told that it was due to my strong will power that I have pulled through.
I will not let my mother weep silently when she thinks I have fallen asleep. I will drag my self up and walk and run as swiftly as the deer, I will overcome Maa don’t worry. Dear Brain just beware of my Will…
Yours forever
Indomitable Yuvraj
Chandra was born in Calcutta and spent her formative years in Delhi. ‘Sita’s letter to her unborn daughter’ a short story of hers has been published in an anthology published by Penguin ‘In search of Sita’.A collection of her tales ‘Memsaheb and the Thief’ has been published by Bumblebee Publishers. Her writings have been e-published as well. Contact Chandra.
