Quite like the play, I was hoping for a resolution to all of life’s woes at the end. I

wanted it right then. After all that laughing and distraction, the re-emergence back

into the world that could not be broken free from, seemed more painful. But, a new

dawn as it was, carpe diem! We would march forward and cope with the stagnation of

the eliteratti’s rancidity once again with heads held high.

My friends were getting ready for their classes at about 9:30 in the morning. Jeter,

Nin and myself had xuxx-ed ourselves to Harris’s home. We had breakfast together,

sitting on a beautiful cloth that had been laid out in his grand lounge. Despite all their

riches and prestige, the Rafi family enjoyed staying close to their ethnic Pakistani

roots. The crispy makai ki roti with the spicy, silky saag contrasted supremely with

the cool elixir that is lassi. It was a sensational experience.

‘Yesterday night, it got so late I had to miss my Fajr prayers cuz I slept through the

alarm,’ Harris said while scooping a hearty dollop of saag with his nawala – also

known as bite.

It was all thanks to Nin and her patient translation skills that I was learning and

understanding Urdu at the speed of light. Well, sound. It had really become easier for

me to put two and two together so sometimes when I did not necessarily remember

the meaning of the individual word, the context helped me reach the right conclusion.

‘It did get late last night for me too,’ I said, ‘but not because I was stressing myself

out with MCAT, rather I de-stressed by escaping into another world with Poppy.’

‘If only life was that simple, but it was certainly cute,’ Nin added.

Jeter got up rather abruptly, picked up his plates and put them in the kitchen sink.

After coming up he said in a stressed tone, ‘I could not finish my report and now I am

a million percent certain father will give me detention today.’

‘Hey Jeter, I bet you can’t wait for the expert lecturer to change at your school,

right?’ I asked him.

‘Heh, the next one is my brother. Bad news Brody strikes again!’ he said while

shrugging his shoulders, ‘anyway, we should get a move on now. My mother is

already beeping me about leaving.’

‘I hope everything is all right, you look very tired,’ I asked concernedly, even though

my wounds were still healing from the physical torture of the previous day.

He got his books from Harris’s study table and nodded, ‘yeah, just a little sleep

deprived like everyone. Listen, you take care of yourself at the psychiatrist and do not

let all that psychological mumbo jumbo penetrate your mind.’

‘Got it,’ I said, getting up also.

‘We will make sure we contact your father today for you,’ Harris said, ‘though I may

not be able to go since my exam is right on top of my head, and my parents will throw

a fit if I don’t score higher than Dr. Gupta’s son.’

‘Oh, listen,’ Nin said suddenly to me, ‘speaking of deadlines, I have to turn in my

novel soon for publishing so we need to spend some time together tonight. I know

with everything that is happening, this seems absolutely irrelevant, but I have got to

try and execute it or else my parents will also go berserk.’

‘You do not need to worry about that Nin,’ I replied reassuringly, ‘we need to save

the world before bedtime, is all!’

With that, all of us dispersed our own separate ways. I had no idea where the

psychologist was who had requested, or pretty much demanded to see me, was. And I

could not casually just ask Mr. Kit what I was supposed to do. There was no choice

but to go to the scientist’s den and let the course of the day unfold from there.

This time, I was able to go there in Nin’s car. Her parents had taken an early trip to

the mountains to paint a sunrise. But, again considering there was no sun, only a sheet

of white flog, I wondered if they captured all the different shades of white then.

On the way, I got a message from Jeter (since I still had his extra PAD for our long

distance communication) telling me to go to the psychiatrist. It definitely looked like

something his father made him churn out, because the last sentence was a bit absurd

and very uncharacteristic, as it said, “the trip is vital for your head examination and

fanciful thoughts in general.” Upon reaching Pervez Sahab’s little lair, his secretary

was not present once more. But going towards the reception desk, there was a rather

untidy note with scrambled words for handwriting. However, making out the pieces, I

understood that the scientist was not “seeing” anybody today because of personal

reasons and random invention building.

Since he was not there, I decided to head back to Nin’s car and ask the driver if he

knew where Silverns’s psychiatrist was. He told me there was only one in the entire

town because there were scarce elitist patients and more miscellaneous who wanted

guidance and mental sorting out, which she, the psychiatrist, did not have time for,

and subsequently set the bar for future doctors not to venture into the field of

psychology. The miscellaneous would want to come for counselling on the difficult

economic crunch they were in, while the eliteratti had no such issue, and talking about

being unhappy with your caste was an unholy subject anyway. She was basically then

an excessively high paid relationships manager.

Getting to the vicinity, the building seemed bland from the outside, and quite

monotone as brown was the prominent shade. There was a wooden door, and that was

the only segment of the structure with a light hue. Entering it, the vibes inside the

place really shook me. An intense psychedelic affair, with purple neon lights on the

ceiling and strings of red and black neon lights on the floor – it seemed like it was

night time outside, as inside there was not a remnant of natural daylight. It was pitch

dark save for the trail of synthetic lights. There was a dressing table with a thin strip

of neon purple lights forming a disgruntled kind of wreath atop the head of the mirror,

and a dark blue chord that seemed to cut through the ornaments on the table like an

electric bolt. As I was picking up one of the items and trying to discern why there

were so many lipsticks, an ominous figure crept up behind me and said in a low,

incredibly raspy voice, ‘You must be what the doctor ordered.’

I suppose it was owing to the environment and the general darkness all around, but

the unexpected comment and unconventional greeting startled me profusely. I turned

and beheld a witch like persona with disgruntled hair, protruding eyes and very, black

lips.

The entire area went against any traditional notions of what a psychiatrist’s office

would look like, especially one that exclusively catered to her fellow eliterattis. A

clean, sunshine filled space, with a long couch for the patient to lie down on and

unwind, with a fluffy chair or grandfather couch for the psychiatrist to sit and evaluate

you is what I would have imagined ordinarily. Not a drag queen in an underground

hippie sort of setting, as I witnessed.

‘Just follow me,’ said her rather manly voice, ‘I see you were looking at all those

lipsticks, well honey, you would be surprised what more I have to recommend for a

spicy relationship,’ adding in a kind of hiccup repertoire which was probably a

deliberate effect at melodrama, ‘personally, the dark, mysterious plum is my favourite

for all the women out there to truly look like babes,’ before letting out a snicker.

The next instant, she opened a door that made me really question the sanity of the

place, and then my own. Her counselling room was exactly abiding by the stereotype

for psychiatric doctors as aforementioned, and she turned from something else into a

lady looking, no grunge make up wearing, long maroon skirt type skin, with a chest

replicating a white blazer adorning, psychiatrist. Oh, and her raspy voice had

disappeared.

‘Was that you, who told me to come here?’ I asked agitatedly.

‘Yes I did,’ she said in sweetness that I knew was deadlier than any other persona

she could assume, given its biting nature and insincerity, ‘sit down,’ with a widely

affective smile plastered all over her face.

‘No, no, it was another person, who also told me about the lipsticks!’ I protested,

trying to double check if I was hallucinating or if I missed the rather obvious switch

of people.

‘It was I who directed you to come here,’ she adamantly persisted, ‘also did you not

see the plum lipstick I was wearing?’

‘Yes, you definitely had some dark stuff on, but you recommended the plum

lipstick.’

‘No, no, I never recommend such dark lipsticks to anyone, dearie,’ she spoke in a

saccharine dipped tone.

She had a split personality, contradicting not only me but also herself.

‘Sit, sit here,’ she said abstractly while fanning the air.

Not knowing where she meant exactly, I sat down on the long patient couch, only for

her to shriek, ‘Nooooo, nooooo! Do NOT sit there. It is meant for my erm, exclusive

patients. Sit on the floor, more organic,’ and positioned herself on the couch, tilting

her head so she could look down at me, as I sat cross legged.

‘Now, why did you want to come here?’ she said with a wide grin that extended

from ear to ear.

‘You called me, I believe,’ I replied.

‘Tsk tsk, what lies!’ she retorted, ‘that is the first sign of a damaged personality, they

tell lies.’

‘But the first way you greeted me was in fact an acknowledgement that I was what

you ordered,’ I reminded her, but in vain.

‘Oh my heart, my heart!’ she said while laying her hand on her chest in a woebegone

manner, ‘I never said that! You are so delusional!’

‘You were the one who brought me to this room, right? From the neon dressing

table?’

‘Oh you think you can ask me questions, oh dear, oh dear! But people of your kind

have always been truly delusional! Hiseff was right. You know I counselled his

marriage with Arantza? Yesss,’ she said before breaking out into laughter that seemed

to upgrade and enhance her being.

I thought it best to stay silent once more, since the one lesson I tried very

conscientiously to perfect in the eliteratti world was silence in moments of pure

absurdity such as this, which increased by leaps and bounds recently.

‘No, but you see,’ she began right after, ‘I have never fully examined your type

before. Of course this is a first of its kind venture since I never gave a flying hooter

about problems of the miscellaneous,’ the psychiatrist turned her nose in an

expression of total disgust, ‘always the same “I don’t think I’m good enough” jargon!

Well, of course you are not! Get used to it already!’

After her monologue was over, she switched back to her concentrated artificial

sweetness, ‘Tea?’ she asked.

‘No, thank you.’

‘Hmmmm,’ she said with that same fixated smile that did not flicker, and continued

being a little nerve wracking.

‘Now let us get into your little constipated head, shall we?’ she took out her notepad

and clicked the pen, ‘you are so lucky and wonderfully fortunate.’

‘How so?’ I asked, curiously yet cautiously.

‘Oh all that with Pervez Sahab! The fact that you were given a life purpose greater

than what you really are, is astounding. You must be dying of gratitude! And yet here

you are, sill alive.’

‘Well, I do my best,’ I replied sarcastically. If there was anything that would help me

maintain any semblance of sanity within her presence, it was going to be wit.

‘How can you try your best?’ she said through her ugly smile and serpentine eyes,

‘you can’t emulate the best, since you are not adequate enough. A second class

citizen, poor, poorly, trying to be like the best, is a fool’s game.’

I just stared at her with dead eyes. Once more, I felt I had heard all these things

before and like before, I was prepared to just listen with one ear, and throw them out

the second.

‘So what are you doing sitting so smugly on my floor for? It is because you really

have no place of your own. No family. No place. No purpose. You are the most

pathetic and sad piece of wasted biological existence,’ she spoke like a sweet knife –

the kind that cut your skin in a courser, slower and infinitely more painful way than a

slick cold metallic slash. The honey of the linguistic razor had become intertwined

with my blood, and now I felt myself get a little vulnerable.

‘At the mercy of mere CHILDREN? The whole town knows whom you hang out

with. Oh it is simply play time for them to spend time with you. What are THEY

going to help you with? Talking big like letting your joke of a father entering our

world. You are alone. Your father is a mess. He abandoned you.’

‘That is not true!’ I said while choking back tears. I was NOT going to cry. This was

not WORTH it. She was playing with my mind ONLY.

‘Your mother is dead. Your father is such a loser. He could never stand up for you,

provide for his child, whose birth also really stabbed him in the back, didn’t it?’ she

began laughing again, ‘so useless and unproductive. It is a consumerist world – how

does it feel to be so useless, and at the beck and call of the eliteratti, yes, your so

called “friends” who would drop you sooner than you could get your own tongue

back into your mouth. When will you stop pretending? Secretly, if I were you, I

would keep praying Pervez Sahab succeeds in planting the chip in me, so at least we

can control you more openly! And not like the hypocritical existence you lead. I also

heard Joyce’s daughter finished her novel after all, looks like you became history

faster than you even realised.’

I was on the verge. I had never felt someone’s words scathe me so severely as that

moment. Jeter’s tone did change – I felt everything she said was really real.

‘Go on. Take more time in the world that does not care about you. But take time

where? Like I said, you have no one. It feels terrible to be you. I have a loving

husband I am going to tell all about our session, while you will have not one person to

talk to.’

Her clock started beeping. ‘Ah, ah, my next client will be coming. He is such a

fabulous astrophysicist. Quite the wonderfully lovely session, this was. Good bye,’

she said while her eyes widened and her smile got skinnier.

I got up and was shown out of the same passage I entered through. The same neon

lights blinded me – but everything was a daze, the environment was on steroids, and I

was unaware of all that was around me.

As I got out, I could not see Nin’s car anywhere. Then suddenly rain started to peck

at my head. The entire street became blurry. I opened my PAD and saw no messages.

It was true. I was abandoned after all.

After walking for what felt like forever, and drenched to the point where my ears

began to electrocute my brain with pain, Jeter’s shed was visible to me. I entered and

instead of falling on my bed, hit the floor instead. Lightening silently illuminated the

background, while thunder followed suit and roared.

After ten minutes elapsed, Jeter, Nin and Harris walked into the shed. Nin informed

the others that I had returned. Jeter came in and asked me for his PAD. A little

annoyed at the selfish assertion, I told him blankly it was in the bag on the bed.

Feeling the urge to know, I asked them how their trip to Left Arrow was and if they

had any progress in tracing my father.

‘Oh we could not go today,’ Nin replied, ‘maybe tomorrow.’

‘Yeah I’m sure one day’s absence will not do much harm,’ Jeter said in a causal tone

that irked me.

‘Of course, because it does not matter to you. You are an eliteratti at the end of the

day,’ I said dryly.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Jeter asked, a little angrily.

‘You heard me. Since when did all of this really matter to you? To any of you? I

may have an entire future riding on this, but none of you do! You get to enjoy life

comfortably and out of making a slave of me and banishing all of the miscellaneous

from your pristine, perfect, first class existence!’

‘Now, wait a minute,’ Harris intercepted, ‘this is some uncalled for behaviour! What

is up with your outburst?’

‘Please, just go and give your exam. The only really important thing to you,’ I said

sourly.

‘What is going on?’ Nin said shocked.

‘I hope I did not damage your car by sitting in it, or leave my foul smell in there. If I

did, I am sure you will have some miscellaneous on stand by who will wash it for

you.’

‘Come on guys. We are leaving. No need to waste time like this,’ Jeter said firmly,

grabbing both Nin and Harris by the arms and taking off.

I could hear Nin’s ‘but’, but that too, was drowned by the concert of thunder doing

encores outside.

I felt terrible. What had I done? Regret burned my intestines, and there was no relief.

I regretted my decision so much. That was the first time I really broke down.

I cried feverishly and prayed to our God, hoping He was listening. I cried silver

tears. Were they good enough? Would God only hear the splatter and trickle of golden

tears? The tears cried by those who were born number one? What about the

everyman? Who is deemed as inferior, secondary, lesser, subordinate, untalented?

Was God listening to that person? Would God help someone outside the eliteratti and

miscellaneous? Would God help?

I don’t know when I slept that night. I was too displaced.