I had started earning at early age. I used to give tuition classes and it continued when I was doing my undergraduate after a brief stop. But to work for pocket money is completely different than to work for living to work for career. My exams had completed and I was diagnosed with depression. In those early days I was sure that this depression will be cured though I was struggling to carry on every simple activities of life. I was either sleeping too less or too much, I had lost connection with life, there was negativity all around. There was no way of getting job or keeping job in those conditions. The results were not out yet. In those corners of world exam results take longer than one can imagine. It was in the month of December when I got a call from college, they were offering a position of a teaching assistant. Everyone was happy, in the country where the unemployment rate is more than 50%, to get a job even when you do not have your undergraduate degree in hand is wonderful. This meant I would start supporting my family pretty soon. However as I felt sedated, dizzy, listless most of the day it came to me like a huge burden. Life had given no options so I had to pick what was available, I joined the college. To stand in the class for an hour and often more was too demanding. I often felt I will pass out in the class. Before I even got out of home I wanted to return. It was too difficult. My colleagues knew I was struggling and I didn't get good response from students. I didn't have college degree but I was teaching 7th Semester students, the students knew this. I had been their peer and now they didn't find it cool to have me as a teacher. A group of students didn't attend my class but those who did gave good reviews. As common with depression I was worried about the group that didn't attend the class rather than being happy about getting appreciation from those who attended. I didn't fear losing job but I couldn't see myself as a failure. I linked the absence of the group in my class as my failure.
Soon the results were out and I had topped the university. It would have made a healthy person feel awesome but it brought nothing to me, it simply didn't matter.
There was a job vacancy in the largest bank in the country. They wanted an IT professional. Probably it was my father who brought the paper in which the vacancy was published. I didn't want to apply but my parents wanted me to apply, they didn't want me to stick to unpromising teaching assistant job. The bank job offered better money and complete job security. Obviously I was oblivious. Yet I went to submit the application form in person. As I went into the building I told myself I will work in this building. I had to prepare hard for the written test but my depression won't let me do so and worse of all with anti-depressants my memory was faltering. To my surprise the test was great. In the merit list I was ranked top among all other candidates. The next hurdle was interview which was a cake walk for me. Again among 8 candidates selected I was ranked at top in the merit list. Since I was ranked at top the traditional rule suggested I will select the branch where I would want to work. That would obviously be my own city Kathmandu. Now came the twist of fate, since I was ranked top they sent me to the branch where there was too much to do and technology was really poor. From a business perspective that was the right decision, I was doomed. I was to start at the Trisuli branch. Though just 70Km from Kathmandu, it was remotest in every sense. The mighty Trisuli river flowed through the place through the unfriendly and morbid hills. Not any good market nearby as most people preferred going to 3 hours away Kathmandu.
I went to the unwelcoming office. I didn't have a chair to sit but luckily a computer had been arranged. I would also serve as an assistant branch manager. The manager was expletive spitting, clumsy looking, always smoking person who knew nothing about computer. I was asked to sit in front of him sharing the desk so that he and I would face each other. This was a temporary arrangement that became permanent. The manager really liked me probably he could see his son in young me.
I stayed in that job for 7 months and had a terrible bout of depression that lasted for a week but stomach problems that would limit my diet to insipid rice cooked with lentils for a month. But the time spent in Trisuli were often time that I would miss. I had rented a room in a nearby house and other rooms were rented to other office goers and non of them were my colleagues. I met one of the most simple, easy going, calm person there. He worked in District Education Office which was just next to the house we lived in. I was soon his friend. He had a beautiful voice and used to sing communist songs that asked youth to come together to build the country or praised the country or reminded duties of youth toward the country. He sang those song not because he believed in them but because he didn't know any other songs. He said he was hardcore communist in his youth and even participated in underground activities, he used to sing then. He also used to write poems and attended every programs in the locality that had to do anything with literature. I used to call him "KabiJi" which translates to "Poet" in English. I loved watching him do his choirs like cooking, washing clothes singing all the way.
Thursday 24 March 2016
Wednesday 23 March 2016
It visits me the first time
My father used to call me "Prafulle" which in my language (Nepali) interprets to "someone who is always happy" It was just a decade back. I was fun loving always happy, always positive boy. I was always good at studies, always a topper in class. Though short in height I was sharp in wit, sharp in intelligence.
It was mid 2005 as the final year exams had commenced. We used to have long study leaves before the exams and also between the exams. A local goon (of my age) had opened up a music store on the other side of the road just in front of our house. He used to play loud music all the day. As I prepared for the exam all day with my brother, the music was always a disturbance, the kind of music I never learned to appreciate. So it was noise rather than music, and I just didn't like the guy, I didn't like his face, I didn't like him anyway. More than toward studies I was attentive to the noise from the music store and it would irritate me. I almost became obsessed with the noise, even when there wasn't any I was checking for it. He would open the store till late evening playing his stuff loud occasionally which concerned me further. Soon I would start checking for the sound as I went to bed. Initially it was only the noise from the store but soon any kind of sound started disturbing me. I had acquired the ability to hear even as the cockroaches scurried on the floor. I was loosing sleep. The sound which anyone could ignore started to get on my nerves. Then to make the matter worse a mouse got into my small room and I could hear it run as I would struggle to sleep in my bed. It only got worse. For 12 consecutive days I had almost no sleep, I had become a zombie. Later one weekend I managed to kill the mouse with help of my father and brother. That was the first and probably the last time I had killed anything big and with intention.
Two of my friends always visited me in the evening to discuss the exams. One of the friends lived in a really peaceful area and the other frequently spent his night there. Two days before the exam deprived of sleep I decided I am going to this friend's place to sleep hoping the silence there shall cure my insomnia. At the new place it was worse, I not only lay awake for the entire night I became restless, I went to toilet more than 20 times that night and didn't even close the eyes as my friends could be heard snoring. At 4:30 AM in the morning, I was on my way home but strangely very fresh and energetic. At home I managed to sleep for 1 hour, lethargy would visit me later in the day. Though unsure of the issue I knew I required medical assistance and who could be more handy than a friend who was a doctor. He suggested me to visit the Mental Health Department of a hospital and there I was with my mum. The doctors were undoubted as they diagnosed me with exam related anxiety. I was prescribed a medicine.
I was at home and took the medicine as I went to bed and boy what a great sleep it brought unfortunately it won't wear off in the morning not even in the late afternoon. I was doomed, there was no way I could appear in exam. The person who was the undoubted contender to secure a gold medal was now not appearing in exam. That day I didn't take the medicine out of fear, my mother gave me oil massage. I went to sleep around 10:00 PM and woke up only at 5:00 AM. It was a surprise, yet I was not in myself, the medicine that I had take two days back still made me feel dodgy. I scanned the contents of the syllabus and tried to remember what I had read. I asked god to help me secure a minimum marks to pass the exam. Surprise again, the exam went really good.
That very evening my mother took me to the clinic of our trusted Physician but to our dismay the doctor himself had some accident and was mentally unstable for a while, I had to see another doctor. With very little hope we waited for our turn. The doctor turned out to be a real good guy, his diagnosis was same i.e. exam related anxiety. He was so good that his words were healing me, he prescribed me some tranquilizer to be taken before going to bed. It was like a panacea, 30 days had passed and I was going good and had forgotten I had some issue. The issue however was too adamant and was back again and this time with real vengeance. A month or two later I was diagnosed with major depression. Happiness left me, I didn't want to leave my bed, I was always tired, lost interest in everything. I was sad and I was anxious. I would remain same for rest of my life. That was the end of year 2005 and this is the beginning of year 2016 and I have been doomed ever since.
It was mid 2005 as the final year exams had commenced. We used to have long study leaves before the exams and also between the exams. A local goon (of my age) had opened up a music store on the other side of the road just in front of our house. He used to play loud music all the day. As I prepared for the exam all day with my brother, the music was always a disturbance, the kind of music I never learned to appreciate. So it was noise rather than music, and I just didn't like the guy, I didn't like his face, I didn't like him anyway. More than toward studies I was attentive to the noise from the music store and it would irritate me. I almost became obsessed with the noise, even when there wasn't any I was checking for it. He would open the store till late evening playing his stuff loud occasionally which concerned me further. Soon I would start checking for the sound as I went to bed. Initially it was only the noise from the store but soon any kind of sound started disturbing me. I had acquired the ability to hear even as the cockroaches scurried on the floor. I was loosing sleep. The sound which anyone could ignore started to get on my nerves. Then to make the matter worse a mouse got into my small room and I could hear it run as I would struggle to sleep in my bed. It only got worse. For 12 consecutive days I had almost no sleep, I had become a zombie. Later one weekend I managed to kill the mouse with help of my father and brother. That was the first and probably the last time I had killed anything big and with intention.
Two of my friends always visited me in the evening to discuss the exams. One of the friends lived in a really peaceful area and the other frequently spent his night there. Two days before the exam deprived of sleep I decided I am going to this friend's place to sleep hoping the silence there shall cure my insomnia. At the new place it was worse, I not only lay awake for the entire night I became restless, I went to toilet more than 20 times that night and didn't even close the eyes as my friends could be heard snoring. At 4:30 AM in the morning, I was on my way home but strangely very fresh and energetic. At home I managed to sleep for 1 hour, lethargy would visit me later in the day. Though unsure of the issue I knew I required medical assistance and who could be more handy than a friend who was a doctor. He suggested me to visit the Mental Health Department of a hospital and there I was with my mum. The doctors were undoubted as they diagnosed me with exam related anxiety. I was prescribed a medicine.
I was at home and took the medicine as I went to bed and boy what a great sleep it brought unfortunately it won't wear off in the morning not even in the late afternoon. I was doomed, there was no way I could appear in exam. The person who was the undoubted contender to secure a gold medal was now not appearing in exam. That day I didn't take the medicine out of fear, my mother gave me oil massage. I went to sleep around 10:00 PM and woke up only at 5:00 AM. It was a surprise, yet I was not in myself, the medicine that I had take two days back still made me feel dodgy. I scanned the contents of the syllabus and tried to remember what I had read. I asked god to help me secure a minimum marks to pass the exam. Surprise again, the exam went really good.
That very evening my mother took me to the clinic of our trusted Physician but to our dismay the doctor himself had some accident and was mentally unstable for a while, I had to see another doctor. With very little hope we waited for our turn. The doctor turned out to be a real good guy, his diagnosis was same i.e. exam related anxiety. He was so good that his words were healing me, he prescribed me some tranquilizer to be taken before going to bed. It was like a panacea, 30 days had passed and I was going good and had forgotten I had some issue. The issue however was too adamant and was back again and this time with real vengeance. A month or two later I was diagnosed with major depression. Happiness left me, I didn't want to leave my bed, I was always tired, lost interest in everything. I was sad and I was anxious. I would remain same for rest of my life. That was the end of year 2005 and this is the beginning of year 2016 and I have been doomed ever since.
My Story Begins
Somewhere in late 1960s, a man set out for a journey limping all the way from the rusty, unfriendly hill to the plain lowland with a dream to bring his large family to the lowland one day. He survived a fatal illness seven times, the illness linked to the wrath of some angry god. Later he knew that the wrath of the god had a name and they called it Typhoid. It took away his ability to walk properly and he would limp for rest of his life. It didn't bring him down, waters of the unfriendly hills had made him stronger in will if not in his body.
The decent profession of his time was that of a teacher and that is what he wanted to be, he became one. He won a scholarship to study sub-engineering in India, giving a hope for a decent life and he could see his dream to bring his family to lowland coming true. And yes he did bring his family to the comfy of the lowland.
That was my father!!!!
Born to an almost blind father and a beautiful mother, she was raised in the capital city. Vagaries of life were no different though. A small family of four still struggled to keep the ends meet. Her mother sometimes earned wage serving as labour in paddy fields and her father was a peon at the government office.
When her aunt asked her if she would take the limping man she had seen a while ago as her husband, the only thing she thought was if she said no the man would be heart-broken and at 16 she probably was not much concerned about her life ahead. She was married to a man with permanent limp who was 12 years older than her. She was brought in inside a small rented room with a bed that was just enough for two to sleep. Her struggle with life started the very same day she got married. She inherited unpredictable mood from her mother which would only come to exhibit on her late forties. Probably she somewhere felt life had cheated her.
That was my mother.
Together they sow their dreams in their two sons, the first was born in the cold December of 1981 in the city of Kathmandu, in a rented room and second was born 17 months later. The first showed lame chances of survival with his minute body and failing health. He was born in the time of financial hardship for the couple just trying to keep things moving. Probably my fate was written on the very same cold day of December when I was born.
I, the first son of the couple survived not because he had to see the beauty of the world, not because to enjoy the life but because to suffer, because to yearn for death every morning he woke up yet drag himself for the very same couple that brought me to this world and for a lovely daughter and a naïve wife and for the best brother in the world.
I have all one would want from life except for the happiness. I suffer from depression, unending, unrelenting depression.
The decent profession of his time was that of a teacher and that is what he wanted to be, he became one. He won a scholarship to study sub-engineering in India, giving a hope for a decent life and he could see his dream to bring his family to lowland coming true. And yes he did bring his family to the comfy of the lowland.
That was my father!!!!
Born to an almost blind father and a beautiful mother, she was raised in the capital city. Vagaries of life were no different though. A small family of four still struggled to keep the ends meet. Her mother sometimes earned wage serving as labour in paddy fields and her father was a peon at the government office.
When her aunt asked her if she would take the limping man she had seen a while ago as her husband, the only thing she thought was if she said no the man would be heart-broken and at 16 she probably was not much concerned about her life ahead. She was married to a man with permanent limp who was 12 years older than her. She was brought in inside a small rented room with a bed that was just enough for two to sleep. Her struggle with life started the very same day she got married. She inherited unpredictable mood from her mother which would only come to exhibit on her late forties. Probably she somewhere felt life had cheated her.
That was my mother.
Together they sow their dreams in their two sons, the first was born in the cold December of 1981 in the city of Kathmandu, in a rented room and second was born 17 months later. The first showed lame chances of survival with his minute body and failing health. He was born in the time of financial hardship for the couple just trying to keep things moving. Probably my fate was written on the very same cold day of December when I was born.
I, the first son of the couple survived not because he had to see the beauty of the world, not because to enjoy the life but because to suffer, because to yearn for death every morning he woke up yet drag himself for the very same couple that brought me to this world and for a lovely daughter and a naïve wife and for the best brother in the world.
I have all one would want from life except for the happiness. I suffer from depression, unending, unrelenting depression.
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