Malice in Wonderland

I don't remember much except that i drowned in some sort of deep slumber, later to be found in some bed of B C Roy (i learnt later that it was bed number 8), the local hospital in IIT Kharagpur campus. I was surrounded by some of my friends, my elder cousin (who also studied here) and the nurse. I was bewildered for a while. It was for two reasons that i could not guesstimate the numbers of hours i was in that blackbox of memory, neither could i make out how did i happen to come to this place, perhaps some hospital, nor, how did these people gather around me. Okay, Rakesh and my cousin were acquaintances, but Jha ji and him? My body ache made me realised that my epilepsy had relapse, and so did the nurse. I could recollect being taken to some place on a stretcher and someone holding me so that i did not fall from it.

It was a very tiresome and gruesome wednesday evening of september 2003, the date being not of much importance here. I had neither eaten for the past two days, nor did i sleep. Moreover, the design class had been average for me, for the professor, let's call him AB, shouted, or rather, Sang his hymn for me and i had no option but to face the music! As a result, i was left a bit confused that evening as what should be my next move to please this buzzing hornet AB who was always ready to sting me on my butt!

I remember loading some site on the browser of Rakesh, in his Nehru abode, when i fell into a slumber and then regained consciousness in B C Roy. As soon as i realised i'm in B C Roy, i was shocked beyond all limits. It was not Epilepsy which had me bombed, but the dread of being in the B C Roy building, which was notorious for giving expired medicine to students and giving an intraveinous dose of an intramascular injection! In any case, i had to remain there, as i was too weak to run from there. What i observed was some pain in my right hand. i found a salitube going in my body- i did not need it- but who cared what i needed! The nurse came and administered some dose of Tigretol, a family of drugs given to epilepsy patients. I cursed my fate then, and then started cursing AB. It was solely because of him that epilepsy had relapsed, and i did not deserve that bed number 8.

My parents came and met all the characters in this story, the deans, the head, the faculty advisor aka facad and last but not the least, the concerned prof, who, by now was more concerned about some answer he had to give to my parents. It was then a Warsa pact between them in which it was decided that i had to continue as an epilepsy patient, in his class.

It was outrageous, if the person i thought responsible for messing up my life was let go free in this manner. I asked my father I want to Lodge an FIR against this man who thinks himself to be a Monarch. It'll shredder him in bits and pieces! My father said, in a grave and melancholic tone I never would have done this. But if you want to do this, be my guest, but i'm not with you! I felt shackles binding me. I felt as if i was suffocating in the public inpatient ward of B C Roy. I almost screamed I want that man behind bars! My father did not reply me. His silence was far more stronger than my shout.

As the luck would have it, i flunked in the subject- by some- 4 marks. I called home and spent remaining balance of my cell phone that day crying. The rest of the 3 years went in sulk. I never had a goal in my mind. I never cared to, or better expressed, never dared to look into the bigger picture of life.

The life always has a very large canvas on which she keeps painting something or the other, and the events are just a small patch of colours on this very huge canvas. Some of us see this canvas with a myopic vision, some see the portrait crystal clear, and some, akin to me, are casual enough to ignore this panoramic landscape of life called as goal.

My goal was just to clear Joint Entrance Examination, IIT; and i just had did it in 2001. So what? After this, the road lead to just nowhere! It was a cul de sac for me! something from this cul de sac spurred my life to take a U-turn. This called for a waste of some time, say about a year, and then, i was in mainstream again, live and electrifying!

I now know what is my goal. Now do i see this whole picture more clearly, and now every thing, even the seemingly blot like thing on the canvas now does not look as a blot at all, everything fits into the place! It's as if some masterpiece in the making, and every random stroke seems to be making some sense! And all this i learnt when i was bed ridden after 2 and a half years, in bed number 6, opposite to the bed from which all had started in B C Roy hospital.

This article was about to end here itself, leaving people to guess the rest half of the story, but then someone sitting there thousands of mile away inspired me so that i continue this article and end it more appropriately.

The lady asked about my past, and perhaps the things started to become more clear, the purpose, more visible, and the nitty- gritty, clearer still! (My goal is less important here than the inner details of the matter)

I was shattered after the epileptic seizure. I had no goal to live for, and i had no peace of mind. I used to plan about avenging for my life's misfortune. Then, it all happened that another professor entered into this picture. Noone pointed me this, but i was bound to assume him as my role model. I was highly impressed by his intellect, as well as his humane nature. He once told me, letting someone go relieves you. It's not in my nature to penalise someone for the wrong he did to me. I was ghast, for i thought my father was just an example of anachronism, that he should have been here ages ago. And now, i was hearing the same idea for the second time! There had to be some truth in that, what was it?

Was it that letting go makes your soul lighter than others? At least not in my case! So how did these two people zeroed in on the same concept, and they are happier than me?

The answer struck me when i realised that letting go of someone gives you a chance to concentrate on your goal rather than deviating from it. moreover, it keeps the temper down, and thus again gives a chance to be happier.

Superficially this explanation was complete in itself. And i had been convincing myself that i had forgiven AB for whatever he did.

I realised this time, when i landed up in hospital that to forgive someone, one has to first look into the truth vis- a- vis and subsequently look into the whole "broad picture". And when one is able to do so, he is relieved of all the miseries caused by the truth itself, and he is able to forgive.

I forgave AB on bed number 6, Room number 215, B C Roy Hospital.