Arising From The Dark
As soon as the door opened, she knew she was in trouble. For her, the impending doom was about to be revealed. She had been escaping her fate for a long time. But you can’t live your life by merely escaping and crying. Sometimes, you have to confront the unavoidable. The moment, the door opened, she woke up. The dream ended. She was all alone in her room. She stretched her arm to the table. Got her mobile phone and saw the time. It was 4.44 a.m. A strange time. Lately, everything in her life had been weird. Then she lay face upward on her bed. Staring at the ceiling of her hostel’s room. Nahid’s roommate graduated the last semester and no new roommate had moved in, nor did she want one.
Ashkan had his eyes fixed on the door in front of him. It was his daily ritual to do so. The door opened, and bewildered, sleep-deprived Nahid walked in. Ever since she moved to Islamabad, Nahid had become a seasonal victim of meaninglessness and nihilism. Her course instructor labelled it a “phase of life” and recommended her to Ashkan. Ashkan went through all this and he knew how to deal with it.
“Dr. Uzma told me that you also faced what I am going through.” She started straight without any salutations or formalities. For Nahid, colours were unknown to her. Her thoughts, vision, and life all lacked colours.
Ashkan looked at her and then turned his face to the other side of the room. He started staring at the clock.
“Yes, I went through a lot. I am going through a lot right now. There is nothing good here.” He replied.
For the next hour, no one could distinguish between the patient and the counsellor. Both of them counselled, each other, and complained about their lives. Ashkan after completing his Psych degree and starting a job as a clinical psychologist realised that he was not meant for it. He wanted to become a psychiatrist. He explained the difference between the two. He wanted to leave his profession and start something else. His family stridently refuted his idea and gave him a tough time. For him, the degree has no scope, no scope in the country, and nothing good in life and country. He was in, what we could say, the later stages of Nahid’s condition. He submitted his paintings to various competitions and won nothing. Therefore, he also labelled himself a “failed artist.”
“I want to apply for a Master’s at Sigmund Freud University, Vienna Austria. Do you know Sigmund Freud? I want to pursue psych there. There are scholarships. I can go there. But it requires funds, etc. I do not know what.” He raised his head, faced towards the ceiling, and then immediately hit his head on the table expressing regret, failure, and dismay. Nahid left the place with more negativity and depression. She wanted to solve all her problems before the spring. She wanted to be a new Nahid before the spring. But things were getting more intricate. The more she tried, the more she was entwined in the web of life’s complexities. The night passed with the same horror, with the same sense of impending doom, and with somehow the same nightmares. On the other hand, the night passed the same for Ashkan. Swallowed by rumination. He thought of himself, his condition, how he would spend days of his life on the same mattress on the floor, and how his friends would make it to better places. They both were the same. One was in the later stages and the other one was in the early stages. They were lost in the labyrinth of life.
Throughout her life, Nahid had been waiting for the perfect moment. The perfect moment to celebrate, the perfect moment to live, the perfect moment to laugh, and the perfect moment to brag. Never the moment came and never the contentment associated with her little moments of life. The other day she was sitting in the common room of her university. A student was watching reels on her phone, every reel had a background song and it was evident. She was watching some “songs you should listen pt 3”-typed reel. A song came with an obscure sound. She ignored it. Later, she was compelled by her intrinsic thoughts to ask the girl about it. She moved forward, faltered, but inquired her of the song. The girl looked at her, and then, she searched for it. “This one?” Nahid listened to it “Yes, this one, “she replied.
She went back to the hostel and binged and listened to it. Spring came, Nahid was appointed as the General Secretary of her university’s society. She had successfully started a newsletter related to mental health awareness and had 1,500 subscribers to it. She had published a case report, too. Her mental troubles had absconded. She had now what other students of her age would dream; academic excellence, good social media presence, leadership qualities, financial stability, etc. Time passed and her summer break started. In her summer break, like many teenagers, she intended to visit the Northern areas of Pakistan. Before her trip, she thought of informing her old psychologist about her achievements. She wanted to share her mental journey, and how, she vanquished the demons. She also wanted to know about Ashkan.
She searched for him on LinkedIn. Ashkan was going to join Sigmund Freud University this fall. He made it to his dream university. Nahid was stupefied. She wanted to know what swerved his life. She was intrigued. She texted him and told him that she wanted to meet him. Ashkan gave the address of his old office. Nahid arrived at the place the next day. He was busy in cleaning his office and preparing it for the new employee.
Nahid started the conversation with that day. The day she got to know about the song. “Chalay to kat he jaega safar ahista ahista.” She told him how most of the problems were associated with her disinclination. She was always troubled about the journey. Packed in the carton of “what ifs,” “maybe later,” “not now,” “some other day,” etc. “I listened to that song the whole night. The other day, too. The day after that day, too. And, then, one day I woke up. Asked the president to recruit me for the upcoming events. Started my newsletter. Learnt data analysis and content writing. And then I told myself to move on. Go on. Do not wait. Just move on.” Nahid’s face reflected the condition of a barren land to which rain has returned after centuries. She radiated the energy of a new flower, a butterfly coming out of the chrysalis, and honey dropping from the honeycomb. On the other side, Ashkan was seeing her. He was sensing her radiating energy. It was the same as him.
“Then, I went on. Never looked back. At every moment, thought of how this moment would pass. Then I encountered Frankl and others. It was like I was going on the journey and everyone on the way was helping me. A dead philosopher from the past, the aunt on the street, the professor, etc. “
Ashkan smiled. “After two days of your visit, I read a quotation. Seneca says all the fools have something common in with them. They are getting ready to live. Like you, I was always preparing to live. Searching for meaning to augment my living. Idealising others. And many more. But later, I changed everything. I thought and thought and changed myself. Now, you can see. All the way to Austria.”
Both left the place. Both embarked upon their respective journeys. Both gave up. Gave up on the preparation to live and to actually live. That is what life is.
