“So it all begun here…‘Operation Blue Star, one of the most controversial military operations to happen in Indian soil came to an end today 32 years ago. Security has been strengthened all over the country and the Reserve Army have been called to be at bay at Sikh dominated areas to prevent any mishaps. Now for Sports, Former Indian Captain silences Critics….’ announced the radio, as my father’s face turned pale when he heard the news broadcast. Even a toddler could make out that he was really tense, let alone an eight year old like me could. I mean who wouldn’t feel restless being reminded about the horrible things that have happened. I couldn’t imagine being in the shoes of my father who was just seven years old at that time. To be even more precise, the streets of our country grew intolerant to Turbans, the same way the Americans have grown intolerant to the Muslim Taqiyah and Burquah. A decade of violence that soon followed was triggered by fury and lead bullets. Merely exclaiming that growing up under these conditions was intense, would be an understatement.

Dusting an old book, his face turned blue as he was clearly not happy to find it. But from judging from the things that happened next, it is normal to assume that he was looking for it in the first place. But one might wonder why a rational person would drop all his other work and look for a book that he doesn’t even want to open in the first place? What’s inside that book that is so significant? And why wait till this long to take it out from the attic?

Needless to say, the iron box fell right on my dad’s head and that bring us to the problem at hand…”
“Finally…What happened?”
“Well...he was in the hospital all day yesterday and surprisingly he was conscious the entire duration. Mother was a rock but my Grandma was a little hard to manage. At the end of it, we were a little relieved when he was all stitched up.”
“Only a little relieved? The man just survived. What was holding you back?”
“He is acting odd, Doctor. Quite frankly, I don’t recognize my own father anymore.”
“Changed…? Did you see any changes in behavior?”
“It was much worse. He…he started behaving like a kid! He’s having trouble adjusting to the fact that it has been a long time since he was seven years old. But the real trouble isn’t that.”
The young kid continued, much to the real patience of the doctor was being tested, “He has been muttering the same sentence over and over again. We have no idea on what to make of it.”
The look on the Doctor’s face was pretty evident as he wanted the girl to cut to the chase. She continued, “He has been repeating the same thing over and over again, ‘I had to do it’. I wish I could understand what that meant, but I can’t. And to make things worse, he believes that he is in some kind of jail. What do you think might be the problem, Doc?” asked the young man, who was weirdly matured for someone his age.
“I can call it out only when I examine the patient. Did you bring him with you?” asked the Doctor.
“No, he was pretty adamant on not leaving home and when we tried to drag him out, he screamed in a fit of rage, ‘No…I belong inside this jail. Don’t you dare let me out! Who knows who I will harm next?’ We had no idea on what to do next. So the only option left was to bring you to him. Prakash Kaka suggested your name and we came running.”
“She being an adult chose to let you come inside and explain the situation? Are you sure that your father is the only one who has a problem?” joked the Doctor which had no reception at all with the girl, only for the Doctor to nod in silence that he will tend to the patient.
A few hours later, “Mr. Singh, Can I have a moment with you?” asked the Doctor, as he preferred to be let alone with the troubled soul rather than to be surrounded by people, which would only add up the tension to the man who has lost his senses.
“Okay.” replied the man whose voice shrieked with silences of guilt and grief, as he kept staring at the wall which resembled an odd punishment of sorts.
“Your family is telling me that you are saying a few things that you don’t mean. Would you mind telling me what’s on your mind?”
“It is okay, Doctor. I already regret what I did and I am ready to accept it and spend the rest of my days staring at this wall.”
“But why do you want to stare at a wall? Is there any particular reason? I hope I am not asking too many questions.”
“This is just my father’s way of punishing me. He always makes me stare at the wall for a large duration of time during which I am not allowed to eat, sleep, drink or even relieve myself. Not until I realize what I have done.”
“Don’t you think that kind of treatment is harsh? I mean, it’s not like you killed someone.”
“I DID KILL SOMEONE! AND THE WORST PART IS THAT THE ENTIRE WORLD HATES ME FOR IT! AND I HATE MYSELF FOR IT!” shouted the man at the peak of his voice, only for the entire neighborhood to gather around the home.
“Make him shut up!”
“Take him someplace else!”
“He would have been better off dead!” shouted the voices from the households nearby as they were clearly losing patience over the inconsistent vibrations coming from the Singh household. Little did anyone realize that a small tin box could bring out the berserk untamed animal outside of the person who was once known to be a man of few words.
“Did you just hear that? They are out to kill me! It is just a matter of time before I get caught in their hands. They’ll beat me to pulp. Of that, I am very much aware.” - murmured the man whose voice toned down in fright. Fear is quite the remarkable instrument that can be used to dissect one’s thoughts and senses, thought the Doctor who knew that he was guarding something deep down inside his heart.
With his family looking more worried than ever, the Doctor answered to all their queries, “He’s delirious. A mere head injury isn’t enough to cause something serious like this. How exactly did the injury happen again?”
Mrs. Singh replied, “It all started when he chose to keep that damned tin box up there on that cupboard.”
“Does that usually be there? Do you keep any stuff inside that is too heavy to carry?”
The young girl answered, “Remember the book that I was talking about? He kept that inside the box and kept it up there so that no one would even think of looking at it again. Or that’s the weird explanation that he gave me before he stopped playing with a full deck.”
“Full or half deck, the man is still your father. Respect!” yelled her mother.
“Can I have a look at the book? Maybe it has some kind of answers to the questions that we are looking for.”
“I’ll bring it right away.” answered the girl whose flames of curiosity got aroused when the Doctor wanted to take a look at the thing which was beyond the access of the people in the household.
Upon examination of the book, “Looks like a diary but most of the pages look unused. Remind me again, what was on the radio when your father decided to look for this book?”
“Something about the remembrance of Operation Blue Star, my grandfather was killed during one of the communal riots that happened after that. Is it possible that his father’s death, this diary and my father’s mental agony are all inter –connected?”
“It is very much possible. The human brain is both complicated and not so complicated at the same time. Every complication has a cause and if we manage to find it, it makes us realize that the complication is no longer a complication because I for one always believe that if there is a cause, there is always reasoning and ultimately a cure.”
“Doc, if you don’t mind let’s focus on finding the cure rather than talking about how the cure is extremely satisfying.” Exclaimed the young girl, only for her mother to revert, “Didn’t I tell you to give respect to your elders, you brat!”
“No. That’s okay. Your daughter is smarter than any other person I have met in her age group. She makes a fine assistant. I was worrying about not making any of my hospital staff accompany me. But your daughter makes do as a fine replacement.”
“Doctor, Look! My dad had written something on 8th June. I think I have found out the big mystery that he has been trying to hide from us!” exclaimed the young woman, who having read the passage concluded that the man who studies the brain and human activities for a living is the only person in the room who is capable of decoding the code to her dad’s well-being.
Having read the passage, the Doctor smiled. He approached his patient and kept his hand on his shoulders to prompt him to turn and look at him. The gentle touch made the poor soul to turn. Tears from his red and swollen eyes created an aura of sadness in the room. Grief had consumed yet another innocent soul, the doctor thought to himself. The sadness in Mr. Singh’s childhood was pretty evident in his writing and it was visible in the continuance of his childhood right now.
“Your husband has gone into a state of shock after the box has hit him on the head. I can try and give him a shock treatment. But I cannot assure you that he will be as good as new or he will revert back to the way he was before the accident happened. So have a little faith in God and a bit more on me and let’s hope this pans out well” stated the man as he tried to snap Mr. Singh out of the trance that he is in.
“I understand that your father was a remarkable man…”
“He was. I just wish he was still alive. But then again it is best that he is not alive to see that his son has turned into a murderer. But more importantly, he would be disappointed that I was not able to control myself in a fit of anger and rage.”
“You have more control than you think, sir.” Replied the doctor, which made the man wonder whether the man was clear on his thoughts!
“You do realize why I am inside this cell, don’t you? It’s not because I stole something or because I broke the traffic rules.”
“Yeah I know. You are here for murder! Or at least that is what you think you did!”
“I think I am already familiar with the fact that I killed someone. You don’t have to mention that every other while! Now please, leave me alone.”
“How did you kill her, Mr. Singh? Please tell me. Did I mention? I like things that make me curious!” exclaimed the Doctor whose prodding was taking an effect, just the way he was expecting.
“What do you mean by how I killed her? I killed her with my…”
“Finish the sentence, Mr. Singh? What did you use to kill her? Was it a knife? Was it a gun? Alright let me make this easier for you. October 31st 1984, Safdarjung Road, New Delhi, Morning 9:20 AM, it was a beautiful morning, wasn’t it? The fog had settled late than usual and the sunshine that followed gave the weather a nice touch, didn’t it?”
“Please stop…” murmured the man who was clinching his head in pain.
“I don’t understand why you can’t remember the exact details. I read about it and I know it as if I have seen you do the thing myself with my bare eyes. There was this British guy who was waiting in the gardens in the Akbar Road office across the street waiting to have an interview with her. But you… You made sure that there would be no more interviews. Didn’t you?”
“Stop...It!”
The awkward silence that followed for a few minutes which the Doctor had intentionally let pass for the reflection to reach the head of the patient was working very effectively as Mr. Singh broke into tears yet again.
The doctor leaned in and whispered, “I just wish that the sound of silence here was louder than the bullet sounds that were heard on that day.”
“Bullet sounds?” asked the man who couldn’t comprehend what the Doctor was talking about.
“You do know that they shot her dead.”
“Who was it? Who killed who?” asked the man, whose waterworks from the eyes were still flowing which made him stutter in fright.
“You know who! You claim that you killed her and yet do not know your victim’s name? What does that make you? Does that make you an ice-cold killer with no remorse?”
“What is he doing?” whispered the mother as she was worried for the well being of her husband.
The main lady of the house who showed remarkable courage during the entire conversation, as she knew that she had to be strong for her dad, just as her dad was strong for his own replied, “His job.”
“Why can’t I remember anything that happened? All I remember is killing her at least a hundred times” cried the man, only to be consoled by the Doctor who exclaimed after assuring him that everything is alright by putting his hand over his shoulder, “Her name was Indira Gandhi, the third Prime Minister of India and you did not kill her. Someone else did. All you had was the reason. So did every other Sikh in the country. But you have to realize that there are no good or bad in this world. It only has people who made choices.”
“ I didn’t kill her?” asked the man who just had fresh life breath inside him and a huge sigh of relief made him a less uncomfortable, just as the Doctor hoped.
“We will talk more about this. But it is time for you to sleep. The warden is really strict when it comes to people sleeping at the right time. I’ll arrange for you to released, first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you for your help, Doctor. But why am I inside the jail then? Who killed her if I didn’t? Is she really dead?” asked the man who had a million questions inside him.
“You will find the answer to your every question in your sleep. Please take some rest. Here, let me help you in sleeping” exclaimed the Doctor as he broke the sedative from his kit and ensured that the man got the sleep that he was robbed for the past two days.
A few days later,
“All he needed was some sleep. The thought of killing a person and the more dangerous task of holding it back just because it would be a disgrace to his father’s memory has caused all this.” - Remarked the Doctor who was all smiles as he was rejoiced to see his patient back to normal. Mr. Singh was back to normal and was his usual self. Although one could realize that he was aware of the fact that something happened to him a few days back, but he was neither able to trace the origin of the thoughts that went blank.
Mrs. Singh intervened as the curiosity bug bit her too, as she too wanted to know what was in the diary that caused all the misery in the first place.
The Doctor happily read out the paper he had torn from the diary one last time before he burnt it, “I wish that I could turn back the clock and bring the wheels of time to a stop. Blood was spilled on our mandirs, our streets and most importantly, in our home and homeland. Politicians have chosen to spit on our integrity. Indira Gandhi will pay the price in one thing that she understands well – blood.”
As the fire slowly consumed the paper which was extremely satisfying, the Doctor realized that he forgot one thing in the entire ruckus, “Young lady, I never had the time to catch your name.”
“Indira Kaur.”

Karthik Sreeram Kannan

#WritcoAnthology #writco