It's 5 am, and it is cold. It is the beginning of December. Putting my feet down on the floor makes me shiver down the spine.

I put off the alarm, and take my pill on an empty stomach. I can hear the low hush of people moving downstairs. In Kolkata, the morning starts at 3 am—every artist is awake so I can hear their riyaaz sessions happening in the middle of the chaos.

I am Dr Bose, a psychologist. I run a clinic in Salt Lake and my job primarily deals with patients facing issues in their regular life. I also take patients who are teens, suicidal or have early symptoms of depression. However, not all patients are ill, some pretend to be, just to have a conversation with their friends.

I am officially a health psychologist.

I lately diagnosed a sixteen-year-old girl with clinical depression. Her appearance makes her look like she is thirty but her date of birth shows she is sixteen.

Someone recommended her to me. I don’t look like a mature doctor though. My slim physique makes me look more like a postgraduate looking for a job. Maybe that is the reason most of my female patients don’t feel that they are speaking to a doctor.

Patient number one

She came quietly, sat on the chair and started looking at my degrees—her attention became stiff after she saw my family picture, which was taken during my honeymoon in Manali. Her eyes did not move and it was constant for a while. I disturbed her gaze and she looked at me with complete wonder.

She was expecting an old man with a puckered face. Her face moved from being grumpy to a smiling one.

I stretched my hands. ‘Hi, I am Rahul.’

She was fumbling and playing with her bracelet.

‘I am Aarti,’ she regained her grumpy look.

‘So Aarti, let's have a conversation. Hope you don’t mind if I began because we have an hour, two days a week.’ I looked at the form which she had filled before meeting me. Her writing was all over the place like she was in a hurry or needed immediate attention.

‘You are studying in the final year. How many members are there in your family? You didn’t mention that on the form,’ I asked with a confused expression.

‘Oh, sorry,’ she retorted with a straight face and continued, ‘Parents, me and my younger brother who studies in class 5.’

I nodded my head. ‘So Aarti, you have mentioned that you cannot sleep and are losing interest in everything. Please tell me how is your relationship with your parents, especially your mother? I mean does she know you are here?’

I stopped and waited for her to respond. There was a pause.

‘Ya, I told her, and she was okay with it and she didn’t say anything further.’

Notes

I noted in my diary: Absent-minded, early signs of delusion.

‘Okay, so did you speak your mind to your mother that of late you’ve not been able to sleep? Have you spoken your mind to some else you know dearly?’

She hesitated again, and this time the hesitation was long.

‘I don’t talk much to her. She is suspicious of me, that I am mostly out with guys and not focused on my studies...’ She made an unexplainable facial expression like she wanted to vent out.

She stopped and started playing with her nails moving the chair. She made a creaking sound and the room echoed that sound.

‘My father is really cool, but he totally becomes weird sometimes when I talk about my college life. I would say he is very moody but I have stopped sharing things with him lately. I don’t know… I feel I am alone and there is no one who can really understand what's going on with my life.’ Her breath became heavy and a tear rolled down her face.

I gave her what she needed—space to vent out her anger. After a while, she didn’t care where she was; there was more than just the sudden outburst.

Notes : Stifled anger and unresolved parental issues.

‘I can gather and understand that you were unable to speak your mind,’ I answered, primly. ‘What about your relationship with boys? Do you have a boyfriend? Tell me how you are with friends and how exactly they treat you.’

‘I don’t know, all boys are stupid,’ she looked down as she moved her head up spoke to me in a completely different personality.

‘My boyfriend hates me because I slept with some other guy who gave me more importance than him,’ saying this she kept quiet, the kind of quiet which happens after an impromptu admission.

The look on her face changed to being calm.

I nodded my head, and asked, ‘How does he treat you?’

She was still not talking and there was a continuous beep of the timer signalling the session time being over.

‘I am giving you some medication. Please take this on time and let's meet in the next session,’ I nodded with a smile. She was still calm and sauntered out of the room.

I made her file and placed it carefully amongst the other patients' case files.

The window was open and a cold wind blew the curtains. I peeked outside the window and saw her talking to a guy on the other side of the street. Soon they drove away.

Notes: Patient detected with depression which is not so clinical.

I wonder after the pills she might have a good sleep and everything will gradually ease.

I took a break after she was gone. I was going through my emails and saw an unread mail. I opened it and saw she has been transferred to me by a fellow psychologist. There were clear details of her case history.

Patient: Aarti Banerjee

Age: 16

Prognosis: Suicidal tendencies, the patient is violent and thinks she has been treated indifferently, however, there is no family pressure.

After every patient, I take a gasp and move to the other because I get emotionally drained. This patient was peculiar in the sense, she was able to hide her true feelings from my trained eyes. I decided I will question her more intensely the next time to understand what really is the cause. I sat on my chair and looked at the next patient’s information.

Doctor Vishwas came with a worried face and a slightly agitated temper. He pulled my hand and held it till I reached my room. He is more agitated than before.

I sighed. I am truly his worst patient.