The Photograph

The Photograph

The room was as lavishly furnished as possible. No expense was spared for luxury. The carpet was imported. So was the couch. The covers were hand-made. The lights were an elegant yellow. Somewhere to the left of the couch a gramophone stood, spewing notes of content lethargy. On one of the sofas sat a man in his late 30’s. His eyes were closed, listening intently to the glorious record. His face featured a half-lit smile. The green silk shirt contrasted his fair complexion. His facial features never stood out on crowds. Black hair. Clean shaved face. Medium sized ears and nose. As the gramophone emitted higher notes, his lips parted to reveal yellow teeth.

“Good evening Mr... William!” a weary man walked in.

“Mr. Stephen! “, Mr... William opened his eyes “please, sit!”

“Thank you”

“Mr. Stephen. I want to tell you a story. Have I told you a story before?”

Mr. Stephen looked at him, exasperated. “No”.

“Well then, let me begin.”

Mr. Stephen sighed.

“Like anyone, I too had a grandfather. I spent a lot of time with him growing up. My parents weren’t really around. So one day he calls me up and says he has something for me. Naturally, I was curious. He gave me a book and asked me to read it. It was this story about a kid who got orphaned, went into drugs, gambling and alcohol and ended up going crazy. I never really got that. But the important bit was a photograph that fell from the book. It was an old news-paper cut-out. It showed a house and a huge field before it. When I questioned him about it, he told me his love story.”
William was too busy being self-involved to notice faint traces of irritation showing in Stephen’s face.

“He used to own those lands. He used to work there too. Once, he was ploughing through those fields when he first saw her. She was fair and shy. She kept her head down while she walked. She was beautiful. He tried hard to get her to notice, but she wouldn’t budge. He was so busy ogling her that he did not notice that he was tripping. A moment’s carelessness and he was rewarded with a face full of mud. He was also rewarded with something else…her attention. For the first time in his life, a girl giggled at him.” William said, smiling.
Stephen stared at him intently, as if hoping for something else from him.
“He never talked to her. Not once. But he knew what he was feeling for her and she knew what she felt for him. But then, my grandpa had to leave for a couple of months, when he came back, she was gone. He went to her house and was informed that the family had moved and no one knew to where. All he had was a house name and that photo! Now with the help of Facebook and other social networking sites, I tracked her down and decide to unite these two lovebirds.”
“Why?”
“Romance is not just for the young, is it?” He smiled. “Anyways, I tracked her down and told her everything and she was ready to leave everything and come with me, when her son intervened. So I beat the living crap out of him and now, those lovebirds live happily. How is it?”

“Is this even possible? I mean old-love, reunion after so many years?”

“Mr. Stephen, whatever I have told you is true. You see, all those things happened. They live four doors down.”
Stephen let out a deep sigh and rubbed his forehead.
“Mr. William, you have to listen to me carefully. Your grandfather has been dead for three years.”

Williams’s pupils dilated, his vision went out of focus. He could hear repeated chants of his name. When his vision returned, he was no longer in the same room. This room had dirtier walls, a steel table and two chairs. Stephen wore a doctor’s coat.

“Who are you?”
“William, I am Dr Stephen. I am your attending psychiatrist.”
William kept staring at him. No matter how hard Stephen tried to reach him, he wouldn’t respond. He was gone.

“He thinks that the book that his grandfather gave him is fiction. But in reality he’s been telling us the story narrated in that book.” Stephen told his friend, jack.
“What?” asked a flabbergasted Jack.
“He has been living that book. His name is William. His parents died when he was six months old. No relatives other than an elder sister and grandfather. When the sister died, he was thirteen. His started doing drugs; his grandfather gave him that book to cultivate his reading habit. Thought he could straighten the kid out. When he died a few years ago, the man was a full-fledged alcoholic nearly twenty four hours. So when his grandfather died, he quit drinking and read the book. But when alcoholics like him quit one fine morning, hallucinations occur. Since his mind is weak and cannot tolerate pain, the hallucinations never left. So he started living out the book. All the while believing that his real life story was fiction.”
“Wow!” Jack said.
“Not done yet. He dragged an old woman out of her home, claiming to be the grandson of her lover. When her son tried to stop him, just like in the book, he beat the guy up and kidnapped the old lady. When he was finally got and made aware of what he had done, he tried to kill three policemen. That’s how I got him.”
“So, what’s with three years?”
“Well, if a patient can realise that his mind’s construct is not real, he could be cured. But he regressed for the third time. So it’s lobotomy for him.”
“Lobotomy?”
“Yes. Jack. The brain has parts called lobes that have specific functions like the olfactory lobe that helps you smell. Similarly, the left frontal lobe controls cognitive fiction. All we need to do is make a small lesion on it and bam! He’s cured. The problem is that many consider it a human rights violation. So if anybody finds out we’d get shut down.”
“Let’s hope no one does.” said Jack.
“Indeed”

He was lying down on the steel table. Bound. Helpless and alone. He knew what would happen in that dark room. They were going to retard him. He knew it. He also knew that protests against the procedure were rampant in the country. He kept hope that he could be saved. All stories must have a happy ending at least for him. But all his hopes were shattered when the doctor walked in with his kept. In that dim light, he saw the vicious gleam of the surgical equipment. It was Dr Stephen.
“I’m sorry Mr. William, you leave us no choice.”
William started to struggle against his bonds.
“Resistance is futile Mr. Williams.” Dr Stephen said, stepping forward. He got ready for the procedure.

William closed his eyes. He was scared. Tears started to flow. This couldn’t be it. All his life, he had happy endings. He just couldn’t accept this. He felt the chilling cold of the scalpel on his left forehead.
“No!!!” He screamed.

“Let that man go immediately.”
William opened his eyes. Dr Stephen stood there frozen. Another man was speaking.
“What you are doing is illegal. Let that man go or we’ll burn the place down.”
Strangely, the man looked like his grandfather, only younger.
Within no time, he was free of his bonds, literally and metaphorically. On his way out, a nurse handed him his file. He threw it into the air and hundreds upon hundreds of the same photograph flew from the file along with a single white sheet. But he was too busy to notice any of those. He was free! The doors were open for him. He walked out enjoying his freedom. The white sheet slowly and gracefully floated around until it landed on the ground. It read:

Patient name: William R
Patient no: 625
History: Hallucinations, violent tendencies.
Suggested procedure: Lobotomy
Performed procedure: Lobotomy

But he never read that, for he was too busy walking towards his happy ending.