Chapter 9: Conclusion
A month had gone by since Manish's first visit to Dr Hakim's office. Summer had turned into monsoon and the overcast skies did nothing to the gloom that had enveloped Manish's life and existence.
Dr Hakim was a kind and compassionate soul. He had done a number of tests and they had a number of sessions. He had agreed to hypnotherapy and the two sessions had ended a couple days ago. He was here to collect the reports and Dr Hakim's findings.
The police were still looking but their investigation had hit a brick wall. There were no leads to follow.
The door opened and Dr Hakim walked in, smiling warmly at Manish. He took his seat and opened a folder he had been carrying.
"Manish, I have been analyzing your case files and your sessions with me. I have also consulted with Pradhan and his team. I believe I have some findings that will help us move forward."
Manish leaned forward, his eyes keen, his breath held.
"Manish, I believe you are suffering from a rare condition called False Memory Syndrome. It is a psychological disorder where a person confabulates events, experiences, or entire periods of their life. It can be caused by various factors, including trauma, stress, or even certain medications.
However, in your case, I believe it's due to a dissociative disorder brought on by the unprocessed traumatic passing of your mother a little over two years ago. Your mind has created these memories as a coping mechanism to deal with the trauma you experienced."
Manish sat there, stunned. He had come here hoping for answers, not to be told that he was crazy.
"But... but I know my wife existed," he protested. "I know my son did too. I saw them every day. I held them, I loved them-"
Dr. Hakim cut him off gently. "I understand, Manish. And I'm not saying that your feelings are invalid.
But the memories, Manish, they're not real. They're a construct of your subconscious mind to help you deal with the fact that you never had a family. You never had a wife, a son, or a brother. It's your mind's way of protecting you from the harsh truth."
Manish shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No, no, no, that can't be true. I know they existed. I know they did."
Dr. Hakim reached across the desk and placed a hand on Manish's arm. "I'm sorry, Manish. I truly am. But the evidence is overwhelming. No birth records, no marriage certificate, no photographs, no witnesses. You've never had a wife, Manish. You've never had a son. You've never had a brother. Your mind is playing tricks on you, but it's not your fault. It's your subconscious trying to protect you from the truth. I'm sorry, Manish. I truly am."
Manish's world crumbled around him. He felt like he was drowning, gasping for air as the weight of Dr. Hakim's words pressed down on him. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't accept it.
He refused to accept it. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that everything he had experienced, everything he had felt, wasn't real. He pushed away Dr. Hakim's hand and stood up abruptly, the chair clattering against the wall.
"No," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "No, no, no. You're wrong. You're all wrong. They existed. They were real. I know they were."
He looked at Dr. Hakim, his eyes wild. Without waiting for Dr. Hakim to say anything, Manish turned and stormed out of his office.
---
"Fuck!" he cursed as got to the front door of the building. It was pouring outside.
The rain was pelting down so hard that it sounded like someone was throwing pebbles at the window. The sky was a dark, gloomy grey, and the city lights were reflecting off the wet streets, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Manish kicked a pebble on the sidewalk and cursed under his breath. He stepped into the rain and was drenched to the bone in no time. In the distance, he could hear the waves crashing on Marine Drive.
He was walking aimlessly, the rain washing away his tears. The city lights were a blur, the rain a relentless drumbeat on his shoulders. He had no destination, no plan. He just kept walking, his legs leading him towards his apartment out of muscle memory.
He didn't notice the dark alley he entered. He just kept walking till he froze. Was that a scream he heard?
Manish waited without moving a muscle, the wind, rain and crashing waves muffling out all other sounds. There it was again. A definite scream. Manish's heart pounded in his chest as he broke into a run.
Reaching the end of the alley, he peered around the building in the direction that he thought the sounds came from. It was darker here, the alley barely illuminated by a single flickering streetlight. It was a group of men, surrounding a woman. She was struggling, her body squirming as she tried to escape their hold. It was dark, he couldn't see faces, just forms.
As he reached for the phone to call the cops, he already knew who she was. Snigdha.
THE END