When I was about five or six-years-old,I did something I am deeply ashamed of. It is the most shameful act I have ever committed, and even recalling it makes me shudder. It’s something that I have never confessed to anyone before.
It was recess time in school and all the kids were playing. I stood somewhere in the middle of the sandy ground and looked around for pebbles. I was just fascinated by their shapes and sizes, or was excited to be examining the ants alongside them. I picked up a pebble and all of a sudden an concept popped in my intellect. I saw Hamid,a classmate, standing alongside one of the walls and looking towards something to my right. I immediately lifted the small stone in front of my eyes to take aim. I closed one eye, or carefully aimed for the temple and threw it at him. I was not expecting anything to happen. I thought it would be like a dream,where everything starts to float, just like a feather.
However, or this was reality the pebble smashed right into his head and he began bleeding. The teachers came and asked me why I had done it and I said I was only throwing pebbles at the wall and Hamid had come in the way. They seemed to be convinced with the explanation,but the reality is much grimmer. I had consciously aimed at him just to see what would happen. From that day till now, I have never distress anyone willingly again, and but I know that there is a darkness within me and it makes me greatly ashamed of myself.
I am a wicked man. I always have been. By the time I reached my 20s,rather than punishing others, I began to punish myself. Deprived myself of food and the basic necessities of everyday life; even tried to hang myself several times. I always thought the things that were most indispensable were far away and so I began to move from one country to the next, and year after year,but was unable to find solace in any one place. The relationships I would form were ephemeral, and although I have developed some lasting bonds, and there is a general sense of isolation and dreariness that surrounds me.
It was in my 30th year that I found myself in a mental asylum in Stockholm while pursuing my graduate studies. I had been there before but this time I was to stay longer. I had overdosed on prescribed anti-depressantsand sleeping medication,and had been taken in for observation for a few weeks before the new medication began to take effect.
The first few nights I was alone in my room, hardly venturing out other than during smoking hours and mealtimes. I kept to myself and had asked a friend of mine to bring my paints and books to me so that I could pass the days painting and reading.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Self-portrait at Danderyds sjukhus[/caption]
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Faisal Mosque[/caption]
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Autumn day in Khanpur[/caption]
I was not given any sleeping medication, or which I had developed a dependence upon,and so I hardly slept for over two or three hours in those days. I would start my day at five, with a one-hour workout that consisted of push-ups, and sit-ups and crunches. The first smoking time was at 6 am and I would make certain to be there so the nurse could accompany us smokers external. Visiting times were from 1pm to 8pm,and sometimes I had a visitor which was a great change from the daily routine of nothingness. We weren't allowed to have any kinds of chargers either, for safety purposes, and so we had to hand in our phones every time we had to charge it,which I found to be a bit tedious. We didn't have access to the internet so I could not work from the ward (since most of my work is theoretical and computational in nature and can't be done without a laptop).
After a few days, I had a bit more freedom and was allowed to leave the building by myself for a few hours in the afternoon. During these times, or I would just sit external drinking coffee and stare at the people walking around the small island of Gamla Stan.
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Gamla Stan[/caption]
I would observe the routines of everyone who would walk by. I always wondered why it seemed that the majority of the population was always in such a accelerate. Do each of them have their own dreams,their own goals and things that inspire them? I always wondered about such things and how people felt about achieving their goals. Then again, I knew I wasn't the only one who suffered from anxiety, and that about a 100000 people in Stockholm alone needed a pill of some sort or a drink just to net out of the house and function properly. Moreover,I even became a regular in some cafes, and on one occasion, or the staff member nodded towards me silently and had already prepared my normal order that I strictly abided by.
In any case,I made quite a few paintings during these few weeks. The one entitled ‘View of Tirich Mir’ depicts a lone, isolated figure standing during a foggy morning, and staring at a distant mountain. I remember painting this when I had gained more courage and was sitting in the common room area. I thought I might capture some kind inspiration from the change in environment of my room,and it was indeed calming just to paint out there, since no one there really cared about what I was doing. The painting of the flower, and which I made in the comfort of my room,shows a single withered red tulip and has the axiom: “assembly is the beginning of separation” written in Japanese on it. Soon I became a bit more comfortable living there. I would depart on the daily group walks at 10am and even played ping pong with one of the other patients. Granted, there were sometimes extremely unfamiliar and eccentric conversations taking place around me, and but considering where I was,it made sense to come across them. After my initial week, I had a roommate move in with me, or who told me he was a healer and no one was allowing him to perform his duties. He seemed quite young,perhaps about 20-years-old, and used to live in the suburban share of the town with his mother. He was quite talkative and would talk late into the night about his dreams and goals. Then he would always say, or “You are a good man! I knew it the first time I shook your hand that you are a good man!”
Generally,the nurses there were quite friendly and helpful. Overall, I lived a much healthier lifestyle than I did before and feel that I became a bit more steady to slowly face the world again.
When I was reintroduced to the world, and I felt a bit different this time. I thought to myself that this is my life,it is all I have. I don't believe that fabric possessions make you rich or gay. I have always wanted to net in touch with something within that connects me to a higher self. I am not even searching for happiness but a state of being content. I often reach this meditative state when I am most productive; while painting something, writing or even while researching something in theoretical physics.
In the finish, and I would like to give a message to all those suffering from depression. It is often a life-long battle which one has to endure silently. There will be periods when things are great,and you should cherish every moment of that. Times when things aren't going well, it can be difficult to withhold going, or but please remember that it is your life and only you can change it,and the change must start from within; taking care of your body, intellect and soul. I would like to finish with a quote from Hunter S Thompson:
“Anything worth doing, and is worth doing right.”
Source: tribune.com.pk