Wednesday, March 25, 2009

In therapy




Picture from here
The walk takes five minutes. I walk out the house, across the creaking front porch and down the equally creaking steps. I hit the sidewalk, raised by the defiant roots of an old tree. I don't know what kind it is but squirrels sure love it. There is one in particular that I am convinced watches me between gnawing on its meal of seeds. My odd furry friend is nowhere to be seen.

I start down the street of row houses. When I first came to the city, I hated the unending facade of uniformity; the repeated motif of steps, porches and doors with mail box slits. Even after five years, that feeling has not changed much but I am not as repelled by the lack of a fence and gates. The boundaries are clear enough. Erected concrete is not necessary for that. I know where I can or cannot go. Everything around me is a billboard of my limitations: like the exposed doorways of the three story row houses whose doorbells I cannot ring and threshholds I cannot cross.

My steps match the beat the music flowing softly against my eardrums; my Ipod having become my new source of escape. The irony is that when I first saw the ads for the gadget, I thought to myself "Another reason for us to shut one another out" only to find myself desperately wanting one for the same reason. With my playlist of almost a thousand songs, I can whisk myself away from my realities in at least nine different languages from six continents.

I now speak to violin solos, guitar riffs, vocals that produce goosebumps and argue with piano pieces. David Arkenstone knows me. Eric Tingstad and Nancy Rumbel always know when to take me to Shenandoah. From time to time, I toy with movement and sweat to Meiway's DJ Tassouman. Shreya Ghosal, Pravin Mani & A R Rahman always remind me of my past incarnations draped in sarees, performing for Maharajas as a courtesan with a mastery of the movements of Khatak. Then there are the sounds of M.I, MohitsAyo, Asa, Eldee, Bijiano & Styl Plus among others pulling at my heartstrings to return home. I am in my world of therapy.

By now, I have left the street of row homes and merged on to the hilly thoroughfare where people in their cars zip past oblivious to me, the sole pedestrian. Girls dash past to their busy days and glamorous destinations,;their hairs, figures and make up impeccable and appropriate. I stand at the crosswalk and push aside the tinges of envy that I feel unable to define myself as I wish it. The air is cool and my sensible, well worn clothes shield me from its slight bite, like the encouraging words of a tired mother trying hard herself to hold on.

I cross the street and labour up the hill to my first order of the day. The building is an old historic relic from a time when the area was monochromatic in race and largely undisturbed by the interferring or interested characters from across the water. Its facade is mostly unchanged save for a winding handicap ramp leading to the front door. The interior however has been remodelled to accomodate the needs of the modern businesses that are now housed within it. I smile briefly at the perky, possibly over caffeinated receptionist and whip past her to the bank of elevators. My destination: fourth floor.

Dr. Rishi welcomes me, her bright smile illuminating her tiny features. I shake her hand and shed my old pea coat. One of the buttons is missing on the front. I must remember to sew it back on. I hang it next to her cashmere throw on the coat rack shaped like barren tree; its branches being the hooks. I am soon seated across from her on a love seat whose cushions envelope my butt cheeks in a most inappropriate yet comforting way and we begin.

"So, tell me," Aakrit Rishi begins, "how has your day been?"

13 comments:

Temite said...

My day has been crap really but I am hangin in there.
Catty, this was extremely vivid.

SHE said...

You are seeing a shrink?

You are not troubled, are you?

JustDB said...

wow.... can almost see the scenery you are trying to paint...so Dr Rishi's a shrink then?

LusciousRon said...

Very vivid. I can practically see the houses. Your write ups are always fab!

Nefertiti said...

This write-up was really vivid. Almost like a painting coming to life in my head.

Very tastefully done!

TDVA said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
TDVA said...

i agree with the above.

But Catwalq, hope say nothing dey do you? are you askign yourself questions and searching for answers? If so, I hope you find those answers and soon.

update soon ;)

Waffarian said...

I like it. Abeg, continue with this one jare....

Bibi said...

so many things you said is true
no need for concrete walls... yep we know our bondaries
ipod another way to shut ourselves out. true again. lol

SOLOMONSYDELLE said...

Very vivid pictures were created in this tale. I actually thought the character was walking to some department on a campus. Anyway, nice.

So will we get to hear the conversation between the character and the therapist?

Jola Naibi said...

Riding the train back and forth as part of my daily commute, I see so many people who have 'shut the world out' with their listening devices. No one seems to want to strike a random conversation with a random stranger anymore and no one really wants to know 'how your day was?'

Sexkitten said...

I love how detailed you are in your writings. You paint the pictures so well with words.

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