Who Belongs To The Insane World?

By : Sharon Supriya

As I knocked opened the wide creaky wooden gate to enter the 'Insane world' (as looked upon by the sane people - 'Mental asylum'), cold sweat ran down my spine. I had packed in gallons of fear, anxiety, curiosity with a sigh smile that I portrayed to all the people who looked at me when I passed in front of them. I did not want those bearded men and dazed women think, that I was here to creep into their thoughts.

As I hurried towards the managers office, a man with sunken eyes, and saliva dropping down his mouth clasped my hand and started rubbing it with care. I thought I will burst out in my loudest voice for help, but I couldn't sense any danger, so asked him calmly to let go my hand. He looked at me, and then my hand and stated brushing it again. When I was completely in a muddled stage, he sat down, still clutching my hand, with a soft tear rolling down his cheek. By now I had settled down near this man, with spilled food on his clothes, bearded face and shabby hair.

With a low tone, I asked him curiously, “what is your name”. He did not respond. But stared at my hand without battling his eyelid. Then he screamed out aloud, to blow my life away. As soon as he released my hand, I was on my toes to find a hiding place. To my rescue I found a doctor, who called the maids, (who were wandering here and there for no reason) to grab the pesky man and take him inside his dome of loneliness.

I took a deep sigh of relief and and asked what made this man insane. I wanted to know his story. The doctor said, “ can you believe, in his early years he was a scholar at school and college?.... He lead a normal life, got married to his longtime girlfriend and had a daughter of 16-17 years. One day when they were returning after a late night party, a gang of drunk party freeks stopped the car, took hold of his wife and daughter and gang raped them right in front of him. Some say that the daughter managed to run near him for help.... as he held her hand, the rogues, belted and stamped the little girls hand until it was covered completely with blood. The incident was reported in the next days paper, where he was pictured staring at his daughter hand without battling his eyelid. Since then he holds every other girls hand imagining it as his daughters hand.”

I couldn't utter a word, my water filed eyes did all the talking. I walked upto his room, and stood clutching at the window bars. He saw me again, ran towards the door, with a smile and clasped my hand before I could run back with fear. I held his hand with mine and kissed his dampened fingers, and said, “thank you, you were a wonderful father.” He let go my hand with a smile and danced on his feet clapping his hand vigorously.

After a few session on Psychology I made my way back to the creeky gate of mental asylum, without any fear. As I walked through the garden, my heart weeped seeing each and every being there, lost in their imaginary world either running for victory or for peace. As I was about to bid them bye with a smile I saw a little girl probably of age 10 -12 staring at the dawning sun. She was covered with mud from head to bottom. After few minutes she knelt down hurriedly and started digging the ground with her tender hands. She was searching for something..... when he couldn't find anything, she poured all the mud on her head and weeped loudly. She did that until she was forced inside her doom. I wonder what the insane world had done to the child, to be locked up here for life....