My bipolar life and Aasthma Uncategorized

Side effects aside….a bipolar life

January 11, 2020

To Dr. Dhruv

The one who told me


What am I

A wonder of God’s creation

A conscience scrawling out from my mothers’s womb

A creature with a birth date


Am I friendly











What makes me me

A combination of genes

A by-product of my experiences


Or am I just

Another case

Of genetic modification 


A meddling of medical science

Why am I calm and quiet

Is it me

Or the drugs in my body

The ones

That the doctors give me


Why am I angry

Is it me

Or the side-effect

Of the drugs in my body

The ones

That the doctors give me


A precocious child was I

Full of mirth and joy


Then came the aasthma

Sleepless nights

Tiresome days

We found a medicine

It brought relief

As bitter as can be

No side effects 

It’s Ayurvedic


Headlines on paper

CORTSONE it contains


What did it make me

What did it do

To my mind

I’ll never know


You will not marry

You’re a professional


They’re looking for

A secretary

A teacher

A partner

An equal

Or a subordinate


You can’t be



Teachers are great thought I

They mould the child

Into an angel

Secretaries too

Are more than equal


Your profession

Does not

Define you


My parents persisted

Let her finish said they

Then we will worry

About the knot


Call from an uncle

An ad in the paper

Before I graduate

An marriage offer

A professional too


Temptation calls

Now my parents

Need worry no more

People’s jibes 

Are now finally over


Rings exchanged

We’re engaged



That can’t be fulfilled

Out and over

The relationship broken

We have escaped!


But sadness settles

deep in my heart


My mom is sick

She can’t breathe

A little prick



All is well

And then

Depression sets in


It’s in and out

All her life

Never to go


Letters drop out

From the slit

In our door

Come meet us they say

But there is

My unwilling heart


Finally a job

To join later

When my certificate

Is mine


No more proposals

No more marriage

I will chart

my own path


Cajoling and tears

Try again they say

Everyone’s not the same


Fine say I

I’ll give it a try


A fine young man

A stutter in his throat

A smile on his face

A Twinkle in his eye

Undoubtedly overweight


Something deep inside

Strikes a chord

He knows about

My broken strings

He wants to help me



No engagement we say

No formalities

You’re allowed to go

Say my parents

Find compatibility


We find love


He proposes

I accept

And the story of my life

Is forever sealed


He lifts me up

From the depths of despair

We’re at the altar

a joyous pair


Our wedding

A grand celebration

Of two compatible families

Joined together


Now the surprise

That will destroy my life


A strong word

Too strong

For I’m still alive


We’re up in the mountains

In the cold



I’m out of breath

Furiously wheezing

I’m dying I say

Can’t take it any more


My husband bewildered

Not knowing

To knock on which door


Magic happens

We’re taken

To an old man

A wise old doctor


Just a prick

Your troubles are over


Miracle happens

My wheeze is gone

I’m fine as ever

Medical science obliged


Back to home

I’m not me

I see miracles

Everywhere  I go

All is special

Life beautiful


Back to work

I’m not my past

I’m modified

That little prick

Did the trick


That changed my life


I get no sleep

My thoughts race

The glimpses of heaven

The superior intellect

I rejoice in the power

I wallow in the pain

Seek perfection

Find ugliness

In human hearts


The delusion

The ideas

That can save

The human race


The new generous heart

Willing to share it all


The transformation

Hits all by surprise


Pushed to a wall

I’m no longer me

I’m a maniac

An angry





Was I meant

To be this person


Then trouble comes

Things put together

By one and all


She’s possessed

They say

Get her exorcised


A mysterious man

In the dark corridor

Don’t talk to that girl

Whose room you share

The devil is in her

Oh what do I care


She talks to me

about her life

The discussion wanders

To numerology

A word

I’d never heard

I use Numbers she says

To predict the numbers

Of the future

I think she is

In need of help


Her fingers mangle

Her eyes rotate

I grab my Bible

Not read what it says

Fear awakens

Screams inside

I shut my eyes

And face a new day


There she is

And another

She bounces unnaturally

And the other screams

We are a legion

We are greater

She screams back

Come get me

They are praying


I’m frozen


A look from the priest


I do my best

Not my world is this!


I’m tested again

The priest meets me

And let’s me off

Not told a thing

What’s going on


But I’m palmed off

To a shrink


He stares at me


With an all knowing gaze

And that’s when I get

The lithium


Oh had we known

What was in store

We would have scurried

Down that mountain

And rushed

To our abode


But now I have

The side effects

Of the side effect



Certified bipolar

My body drugged

My brain benumbed

I sleep it off


I’m a changed person


This time

I’m nice




Is that the real me


The Ministry of the Word

Poring over the Bible

Two years of hard work




Whispers at the office

I’m drooling on my desk

But they are kind

I keep my job


People are kind

Their all knowing smile

Not one asks….

What happened

Too touchy a topic

To be touched


But I am lonely

No one to pour

Out my heart

No one to tell

What I’ve been through


Except my mother

But she too


With the discussion


Forget the past she says


But it just can’t

Be wished away


They are all kind

And patronising

Full of sympathy

And understanding


But my friends

Drift  away

My coworkers also

My neighbours too


And my family

They protect

They cushion

But no one wants to

get into the taboo

The loneliness

The depression


The medicines act

I get better

Ask for a transfer


My boss is an angel

My faculties awake

I do what I enjoy

the most

Solve problems


There’s satisfaction

Everyone’s there

But not a friend

Incapable I am

Of conversation


My memory plays tricks

On my mind

I don’t want any


I’m crazy they think

They know

I’m seeing a shrink


Sent out of town

Crisis strikes

In the organisation

As usual

Another miracle

A surreal experience

I stumble upon

A major solution


No one knows

But the guy next door

That I did find

That billion  dollar number

They spent sleeplessness days

Hunting for


The old age home

Happy to be

Of service

The Holy mass

Oh who is there

But the priest I know

In a foreign land


The nun

She looks into my soul

Your husband is elsewhere

You are here

There is none

In your home

A child

Is what you want

That’s your happiness


My eyes glisten

I want a child

Not possible

With the medicine

Side effects….on the fetus


I have a solution

No medicines say I

I’ll ride my mania

In the confines of my home

Brilliant I say

I will beat the system

My husband plays along

Month after month

No sign

Of life


Worry not says the doctor

We create life

No hassles involved

Just a few injections

I fall for the trap

Those little pricks

Don’t hurt at all

The hope in my heart

Burns bright


The day arrives

That positive line

Praise be to God

Life has arrived


The side effects

Of the hormones

I’m a changed person



The racing thoughts

The mighty plans

Gods hand I see

All is divine

The allegations

The imperfections

Of all but me

The need to give

I see the poor

My life’s ambition

To make the world

A better place

A million things

I can do

To make things fine

But is that me


Back to drugs


The fetus gone

No light in my life

My hope is gone

My ambitions too


I sleep all day

To get through


That primordial need

For a child

Refuses to go


I’ve quit my job

I’m calm, I’m placid

I just need documents

To get my child


Get a daughter I’m told

A son won’t do

A daughter would

Make me happy

As much as a son


Up in the morning

To that holy place

Little bundles of joy

In tiny cribs


Some have no hands

Some no feet

But they all


For your touch

They don’t let go

Of your fingers

Clasping them

In their little palms


The special ones

My heart goes out to

 Not for you they say

The foreigners

They take them


You take that bundle


The pediatrician


All is well

Shes certified


Paperwork I’m told

My doctor certifies

I’m mentally fit

To nurture a child

Am I, I wonder

To be a mother


The day arrives

This beautiful face

A big empty smile

A gurgle

Just skin and bones


She slowly grows

Those pretty eyes

Mom’s sleepless nights

To feed that babe

And let me sleep


Before we know it

She’s on her feet

Speaking her language

So innocent and sweet


A companion she needs

I say

To be her joy

To share her lot

Of being adopted


No say the sisters

The queue is long

So many parents…


I reconcile


On my way home

A ring…

I hurry back

My husband is there

Our joy knows no bounds

God has given us…



We are overjoyed

Two girls to love

Our family complete


She’s different

The little one


Drives me crazy

But she’s our joy


Wealth is ours

And Health too

Happiness follows


Fatehpur Sikri

The Dargah

The only man

In a lungi

Tia a knot

A baby boy

In your arms


We balk

We’re complete

Our children are ours

Daughters are better

Than any other


But fate deals

Another hand

That day….

I’m pregnant

It’s been 3 months

I never knew

I’m perfectly fine


Then comes the stress

He won’t be fine

The doctor says

A cleft

A limb

Or worse….

Our hearts are pierced

I fight back

Scour the net

For hope

Limb or cleft

Or worse….

He’s a gift

A God given one

Ours not to choose


We carry on

The hormones rage

The mania

I’m hospitalised

My health destroyed

The care

The warmth

The fear welling

In my heart


They pray

The nameless ones

Sleepless nights

All for my child


The chosen day

Not Gods chosen one

He’s cooked enough

We’ll get him out

We play along

The doctor knows


They cut me up

I feel no pain

No anxiety

The prick

Has taken care of that


He’s out

He’s lifted up

For me to see

A vision in pink

His body complete

A miracle…


All is fine

And joyous again


My mother in law

Shares her secret

She prayed to the nuns

Years ago

Never to go back

Till we had a boy


I hate her

For all the suffering

I love her more

For giving me

My child


I close my womb

No more suffering

For my family

I decide


Hindsight tells me

I should have trusted

The Creator

He knows best

I know

I’m forgiven


Then the cough

And the wheeze

This little boy

I insist



It’s just a millionth

Of what you got

It won’t harm him


Sleepless nights

Soothing my child

CORTISONE I will avoid


My doctor’s gone

Back to the old

That medicine you’re taking

You don’t require

We meekly submit

To medical advice


Mania overtakes

My kids suffer

My husband pleads

I swallow


It’s not suicide

I tell him the dosage

But he’s paranoid

The hospitals won’t take me

We turn to the government


I see the apathy

And run away

To my workplace


I’m deluded

Trying to meet

The one I think

Can bring change


I’m in rehab




Tied up

My days float away

Missing my little ones

Every single day


No one wants me

The patients….

I talk too much

They say


It’s difficult to deal

With a bipolar

I’m resigned to my fate


Meditate they say

But I can’t

Still my mind

Never could



I can’t stand

That’s the part of my self

I recognise

To be my own


Finally home

My 3 kids

There to hug

My 3 good friends too

My world is back

But what am I?







My self esteem

Down in the pits


Eyes everywhere

All knowing

No single question

Of where I’ve been

Not from family

Not from friends

Not from neighbors

Not from anyone


All are warm

All our friendly

But no one wants

To intrude

To know the mystery


How are you keeping

That’s all they ask

A question?

Or decency?


Hushed voices

In the backround

She’s not well

Sleep it out


You’ll be fine


What’s fine


I’m alive

A forced smile

I try to find happiness

In my lovely family

But something deep

Is still empty


I’m practically useless

I’m languishing

In mediocrity

I’m a housewife

Kids in school

Everything is done

Like clockwork


I pretend

To be content

What am I now

A farce


Stress strikes again

I’m being abnormal

I want to donate

To the church

A small amount it may be

Its a sign

Of generosity

Of bipolarity


I fight

I reach out

To the family

A call for help


She’s going up again

They surmise

I’m turning aggressive

Like a dog

Pushed into a corner


They panic

Rehab they say

Not knowing

What that entails


My parents shelter

But they can’t take it

Any longer


Rehab it is

The same grind again



In a couple of months

I’m normal again

Or am I


Was I this

A Complacent thing

Restrained and low

A dimwit


Stress strikes again

They observe

The little abnormalities


Not less than three


I’m having an episode

She’s walking too fast

She’s going

Up and down the ramp

The same one

My husband now uses


She’s voicing

Her dissent


This time

My parents stand

By me

In rock solid support


The rehab is booked

But they refuse

To let me go

The phase is over

And I’m back home


My husband

Gets it at last

He says he would try

His best

Not to stress


My son is funny all the time

As happy a child as can be

A nagging thought

Fills my mind

Why the mood swings

Why the difficulty

In writing

In spelling

Why is it

So tough for him


I turn online

For answers

A word


Why him, I cry

I need to search

There’s an answer



He’s cooked we were told

I wish I knew

To perfect his lungs

There was a prick



Why I cried

Wasn’t I told

The doctors decide

On their own


Then there’s the day

I lose control

I cannot walk


I’m taken

To the hospital


It’s the Lithium


The dosage reduced

My memory damaged

But I’m fine

At last I’m free

Don’t know how long


My feelings now

I think

Are my own

The quiet joy

The peace


With my fate


I may not have

That many friends

My daughters going

Through teen rebel

But life is good

For Today




Anger at times


At injustice



Are those swings






Wasn’t it He

That saved me

As a child

When I was lost

That man who led me

Back home

From that fearful place

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it He

That gave me the strength

To deal

With the wheezing

Lead me to that doctor

Who gave me relief

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it HE

That led me

To the wise old priest

Who said

If it is meant to be

It will be

Else it shall pass away

And pass away it did

I was no longer engaged

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it He

that helped me

To ace my exams

When I was in despair

Was it just coincidence?


That that page I last saw

Was the question

I had to answer

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it HE

That gave me my husband

The one who had sought my hand

Before I was engaged

To another

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it HE

That saved me

From the devil

In my room

Alone in the night

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it He?

That gave me my daughters

That gave us courage

to go to the doctors

When I was certified

Medical fit

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it HE

That led me to that hospital

To the doctors

That gave me my son

A living miracle

No cleft

No missing limb

No retardation

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it HE

Who gave me

My greatest help

My soul sister

My maid

Who mothers my kids

Takes them for her own

When I am gone

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it he

That showed me

That billion dollar error

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it HE

Who walked with me

My son in my womb

When I felt unsafe

In Seven Hills

The hospital

Took me

To the Holy Spirit


To the blessed


Three and a half


I walked that day

Knowing where

I wanted to be

But not knowing

The way

There I go into the chapel

I’m searching for

The hospital

There it is

The blessed sacrament

I kneel I pray

For my unborn child

The sister

Then leads me


To seven hills

Where they gave him

The cortisone

Was that all

Meant to be

Was it just a coincidence?


Just yesterday

I want to know

The distance

Between seven hills

And Holy Spirt

To add to

My blog

I take the phone

The teacher sends

My daughters location

I open the link

It shows

In bright red

The location


The Holy Spirit


Wasi it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it HE

That led me

To the websites

To the doctors

To the rehab

To the medicines

Not just for me

But my family?

Was it just a coincidence?


Wasn’t it HE

That blessed us

With wealth

With happiness

With peace

Beyond measure

Wasn’t it HE

That gave me

A family full

Of warmth and love?


They may not want to ask

They many not want to talk

About the taboo

But they stand by me

Through thick and thin

Was it just a coincidence?


Was’nt  it HE

That guided me

Through the years

Not letting me falter

Hinting at his presence

Through all the coincidences


Wasn’t it HE

Who led us

To Potta

What does it profit a man

If he gains the whole world

But loses his soul ..Mark 8:36

The verse

I taught my kids

The  verse

In the opened Bible

The verse

In the talk

All the same

That can’t be coincidence

Gods speaks!


They continue to happen

Once in awhile

But we’re at peace

The peace we received

In prayer


It doesn’t matter

Any more….

These coincidences


For now…. I Know

True my kids have their issues

They often wander off the path

Of wisdom and of truth

My son’s handwriting

His spellings

May or not

Get better

My bipolar self

May not go away

The rehab

May beckon again

Ill do my best

To walk his path

To speak up

For what I think is right


If it lands me in trouble

I don’t much care

What people say

They don’t want

To hear me

My family

They let me soar

They help me

To be me















and so on,,,,

but that’s all me


I will journey

On His path

Sometimes flounder

Get back on track

With his strength

My human failings


Time and again


Old things past

A new beginning

Of Surrender

Of Love

Of Grace

Of hope



VibrationsJanuary 14, 2020 at 8:19 AM
Wow. This was amazing 🙂

2. Keep writing!


4. Dhruv.

UnknownJanuary 19, 2020 at 8:25 AM
You are amazing Lovi. The strength. That is all you. Never under estimate the power of YOU!!! Through all of that you will come out glorious. Love you always

My bipolar life and Aasthma Uncategorized

The rehab

The rehab
I’m silent
Screaming within
Into the car
I know not where
We’re heading
But it’s far enough
For hours we go
Outside the city
The fields around
I wish I could
Cease to exist
This isn’t fair
I harmed no one
I’m labelled 
I have no choice
No escape
We’re there
The gates open
I’m on a bed
They tell me
Your husband
And his brother
Are talking
To the doctor
They will come
I know they won’t
I never see them
They tell me 
To  lie down 
On a bed
Enclosed with curtains 
It’s claustrophobic 
No one
Talks to me
To my horror
I see them
Other patients
Tied up
To their beds
With chords
The curtains
Drawn around
No ventilation 
Fear strikes
I yell 
I scream out
Who wouldn’t
You cannot
Do this to me
The Constitution 
The right to freedom
Little do I know
There’s a 
Mental Health Act
I’m glad now
It’s revised
It just takes
A Shrink 
To sign
To certify you
A mental patient
The Act
It’s modified now
You cannot be 
Tied in chains
It’s inhuman
How does it matter
You can still be
Restricted with chords
I cry out
You’re doing evil
This is illegal
They untie me
And tie me again
My hands
Twisted backwards
The pain
It’s unbearable 
They give me meds
I refuse
You inject I say
You’re not my doctor
So they comply
Morning comes
The pain unbearable 
You keep your quiet
We will untie you
This goes on
For two days
The medicine acts
I’m drowsy
I’m in a room
I don’t realise
My bed is soiled
And my clothes 
I walk down
There are people
Mostly addicts
A few alcoholic
A few depressed
A schizophrenic
A couple like me
All put in 
All abnormal 
Some defect or other
The Maushis
They’re after me
Have a bath
No say I
I’ve no idea
I’m covered with urine
They carry me
I don’t resist
The poor Maushis
They bathe and clothe
I go out
I rant
The right to freedom
The wizened old man
He tells me
We’re abnormal
Covered under
The Mental Health Act
But I didn’t hit
Physically assault
It was they
Were physical
They captured me
Me here
Meeting my doctor
There’s an alcoholic 
Brought by force
By his family 
Eight months it’s been
He’s father
To a little girl
He’s ultra rich
He’s a social drinker
He says
My family
Can’t accept 
At this rate 
I think
Half the Catholics
Should be in too
He’s stubborn 
I won’t go till
They accept
As I am
He doesn’t 
For eight months
He then goes 
Picks up his child
His family 
He’s truly free
He has his freedom 
To drink
With his friends 
He’s not
An alcoholic 
There’s this
Of one of the
In Afri
He’s Catholic
No one
Speaks to him
I try
I don’t know 
What’s wrong with him
He comes and takes
The only book I have
The Bible
And returns it
The next day
If he can read
I don’t know 
This is one story
I won’t forget 
He’s tied up 
Next to me
Untie me 
He pleads
What are you 
Here for
I ask
He’s mum
I untie myself 
I know how
And him too
And we are quiet
Till morning 
We’re fine
I tell the doctor 
You needn’t 
Tie us up 
Any more
He lets us go
That young boy
Out he goes
Slaps an old lady
He’s in
For Anger management 
Bad decision
On my part
Or would he be angry
In the first place
If they hadn’t 
Tied him up
This grand old lady
So soft spoken
Mentions her
A fashion designer 
So fondly
They say
 Never met
 A milder soul
There’s group therapy
The conductor 
He can’t
Hear her whispers
He’s angry 
I try
To intervene 
Hie ego hurt
I’m tied up 
The yoga instructor 
This lady full of innuendo
He joins
It’s vulgar
Their comments
With every pose
He teaches foreigners 
They say
With nimble bodies
I try
My old back ache
Acts up
I opt out
The yoga
It’s mandatory 
You get called
Out of your room
If you’re not there 
It’s all about 
The old
The people
Who can’t bend
Their bodies
Sit it out
We’re not allowed
To  play
Or talk
The old teacher
He would ask
The oldies
To sit 
And teach them
That they did
On their chairs
Not content
I approach
This new teacher
He says
The oldies 
They won’t come
I’ll bring them I say
If you do
I’ll teach them
He smirks
They are my friends
These old people 
They turn up 
Next morning
He casts a glance
At me
And them
And promptly 
His class as usual
 Im not
One to give up
I start my OM
The guards appear
I’m tied up
I’m non Compliant
The interns
Every day 
They’re writing down
The prescriptions
All over again
I call it
I make a mental note
Some excel sheets
Will help them
And reduce mistakes
The nurses
They’re filling up medicines
The two of them
For seventy five people
I insist
I want to check 
What they’re giving me
Those overworked souls
They manage the ICU too
They’ve made a mistake
I don’t recall 
What it was
An extra dose
Or a pill forgotten
Now every day
They read out
My medicine
Pill by pill 
On my palm
They’ve played badminton 
For their state
This brother and sister
They need the money
For studying further
The old lady 
On the bed
Her toe eaten 
By a rat
Not healing
She stays
They say
Her retarded son
And she 
Have no one
She stays in bed 
Most  of the time
Only moved out of the ICU
To the TV place
A few hours 
In the afternoon 
When she’s tired
Her back hurting
She cries out
Twenty times
They take her back
To her bed
She cannot go 
To the recreation area
They don’t have
A slope
For her wheelchair
Her son
He rarely comes 
To her
Her bills they 
They rumour
Are paid for
By her brother
She’s rich
After all
She’s Parsi!
Without control
Over her destiny 
Her rotten teeth 
And her son’s
Haven’t visited
A dentist
She befriends me 
This lady
She talks
Mostly about her son
She listens to my stories
About my children
At one point
I know
I have to go
I distance myself 
From her
Maybe I’m cruel
My best friend
And old Parsi
He’s studied philosophy 
He stay there
Of his own accord
He has nobody 
In the outside
His one liners
One a day
Keep me going
There is this guy
Handsome and young
Sent here
By his girlfriend
He own restaurants
At this young age
He’s taking drugs 
He’s under detox
He says he’ll tackle her
When he gets back
She comes one day 
To take him back
She’s so pretty 
He goes to her
Hugs and kisses
And they’re out
This is all
The story I know
About the two
The strangest story
Is about this young girl
Full of goodness 
And joy
She goes about
To hug every Maushi
Greet every guard
She’s one day
For four days
She’s bipolar
They’ll take her
To their hospital
Inject truth serum 
To confirm
She’s stopped
Seeing her boyfriend
She lives she says
In a bungalow 
Theve found nothing
So off she goes
Back again 
In the evening 
And she’s gone
If we can send
Our kids
To boarding school
Without permission 
We can send them
To rehab as well
I suppose
Speaking of kids
This teenager
Built like a rock
Plays lawn tennis 
They’re rich
His parents
They want to build
A court for him 
On the new building
In his village
Which has now 
Become a city
I smoke he said
I won’t be surprised 
If there were drugs
In that smoke 
I’ve missed my
Boards he says
Couldn’t they 
Put me in
After my exams?
I don’t know
Their part of the story
But I feel
For this kid
The saddest 
Is this young girl
In tears 
Sticking to
Her coterie
Of rich friends 
One of them
A film director 
Who stays 
Also depressed 
In a cottage 
She’s from Kenya
They say
Was in love
With someone inappropriate 
Locked in here
By her father
Seventy five grand a month
Two years
She looks old enough
They say
To make her own decisions
There this woman 
Whose fallen in love
With a Christian 
A rickshaw driver
She says
Her rich brother
Well intentioned
Has spent his money
To help her see
Through her
There’s a doctor
A kind soul
If there ever was one
Her husband died
She depressed
Her brother
A kind soul
Spent so much
He brought her
To this calm place 
To recover
She’s fine now
Out of the place 
After two years
Two years
She cries out
When I happen
To meet her
There’s this boy
Should be in college
Forced in here
Without his consent
With borrowed money
Been there two months
They put me in
By force
I’ll drink again
He say
And right enough
Taken back home
Comes the next day
Stone drunk
The most forlorn
Of this lot
A misfit 
Amongst teens
And adults
Is this boy
Who should be
In school
Here for 
Anger management
He throws things 
When he’s angry
He broke the TV
And his father’s laptop
His parents they work
He’s alone all day
He’s clothes few
His shorts too tight
He shown me his 
Near his underwear 
Fungal infection 
I wonder why his anger
Couldn’t be controlled 
By medicine
He’s sent here 
As are others
To be taught
There is another lady
An Indian from Africa
She talks of wealth
Of mansions in UK
Special treatment 
She’s allowed
Bose speakers
And a laptop
The kid on medicine
Putting on rapid weight
I give him
My teatime
The ice is broken 
His mother called them
She’s a widow
Not much moneyi
She shelled out
For this expensive place
The bouncer
He injected him
And bought him here
But now they’re not sending 
Him out yet
He begs me
To speak 
To his mother
When she comes
I do
Nothing changes
There’s the alcoholic 
He paid to be in
To get rid of his habit
He couldn’t deal
With his ADHD son
Took recourse
To alcohol 
Lost his job
Lost his wife
The poor soul now
Has to deal
With the money
And cope 
With her ADHD son 
All alone
They do give them detox
They write letters of gratitude 
When they leave
I just pray
They don’t relapse
All we get
Is a pen and pencil
When we beg
No books
The library 
It’s being 
We’re told
Atleast I have
My Bible
They allowed me that
All made by a cook
And his helpers
Who march about 
The kitchen 
In their slippers 
Now the stories
About the people
are done
The stories
About the place 
The TT table you can use
But if you smash the ball
And it dents
You’re done for
All your friends
Berate you’re
The supervisor 
Will not give
Another one
The counsellor 
She is sweet
Gives me scientific 
Books to read
On the physical
And chemical
Aspects of
Bipolar disorder
I don’t understand 
Half of them
Or more
I’m no scientist
Then the meditation
I try hard 
To close my eyes
And still my mind
This is not
My kind of relaxation
My brain  ties out
For stimulation 
Maybe a book
Thre therapists
They come out
With vague stuff 
Like role play
Or moulding clay
Anything that 
Does not involve
An expense
I mould a crude rose
My daughter 
Could do much better
They applaud 
At my creativity 
All of them
That’s the keyword
You have to beg 
For carrom powder
Or a pen
Or a notebook
Or slippers
When yours are stolen
Never mind
They change for them
The bouncer it is his job
To handle people
Who need to be brought
A God fearing man
Sincerely believing
He’s doing good
I spend time
Talking to him
As he has time
To talk to me
Unless that rare
Call comes
The Maushis
Nine thousand a month
They slog
Wash clothes
Seventy five inmates 
No washing machines
The beds often soiled
No rubber sheets 
My room is non A/c
I cannot take the pigeon droppings
That float in 
The air conditioning 
The fan 
It’s not working
Two days
Not repaired
It’s May
I take off my clothes
Wet my body
And try to sleep
In my
Luxury Rehab
And then
The screams
They go on and on
High pitched
Like someone tortured
I dress
Am out
But can’t tell
They’re coming from
Those horrifying sound?
It’s female
But not from our rooms
I close my ears
And try to sleepThe next day
In the ICU
There are no females
The old
Parsi Aunty
I ask her
Was someone
No she says
You’re mistaken
But I
Can still hear them
In my house
The troublemaker
Make an
Improvement list
And hand it over
To the counsellor 
To be handed
To the owner
The gold medalist 
She smiles 
A benevolent smile
Takes it
Does nothing
She knows
Things won’t change
The next meeting
I take it back
Barge into
The owners office
It’s out of bounds 
For patients
And our place
Out of bounds
For her
The guards
They threaten
To tie me up
I don’t budge
I want to see her
She comes
She’s young
A gold medalist
With a rehab
Who doesn’t interact
With her patients 
Is it because
She doesn’t 
Want to see?
She listens
For some time
Then says
She’ll return 
She doesn’t 
For a very long time
A wicked idea
Strikes my head
There’s Holi colours 
Lying  there
And a big fat syringe
I open the packet
Let the syringe
Suck in the colour
The guards
They promptly come
As expected 
The haul me out
To be taken
To be tied
I let them
But sit down
On the floor
Gandhi style
They try their best
It’s full
Of other people 
Tied up
They let me go
The good doctor 
He’s all smiles
I want to go
I tell him
Don’t worry 
He says
The next time
Your husband comes
Ask him nicely
If he says yes
You go!
I’m pretty sure 
My husband 
The next week
The good doctor 
He’s all smiles
I want to go
I tell him
Don’t worry 
He says
The next time
Your husband comes
Ask him nicely
If he says yes
You go!
Stories true
Or untrue 
I don’t knoe
But one thing
Is for sure
That’s not a place
I want to go
My bipolar life and Aasthma Uncategorized

The journey

She irritates 
An angry being
She cries out
To tell her story
He can’t understand
He’s just not
Made for it
The profound
The mystic links
She speaks about

The coincidences 
To him
They do not matter
But they do
To her
She wants
To understand 
He can’t take it
The accusations 
The doctor
He says 
Give her the pill
She refuses
She’s not the problem
That’s what she thinks
There’s no suicide
It’s not impulsive
A calculated one
She knows
The maximum dosage
That will help
Solve the problem
It boomerangs 
He thinks it is
An attempt
At suicide
He can’t let
His loved one
Or walk away 
Or die
He calls the doctor 
He tells him
The dosage
That she had
Told him
She won’t die
He assures
Take her
To a
Government hospital 
The neighbour arrives
The brother calls
Her parents consoled
Her brother checks
She will not die
The medicines
They’re not fatal
If only they knew
That she knew
That she wouldn’t die
That  she knew
What she’d consumed
Was well within
The permissible limits
You need to come
They say
She knows what coming
She surrenders
Emotions welling
In her heart
But calm
And quiet 
His heart is heavy
Trying his best
To stop the 
Tears welling up
He has to take her
There’s no other way 
No one wants 
This psycho
The private hospitals
Won’t admit
There they go
The government hospital
Two patients
To a bed
Their relatives
Sleep underneath
The doctors they
Are  overworked
She feels compassion
But there’s nothing
She can do
Maybe give
Some misplaced
Perhaps misleading 
Medical advice
It’s early morning
They have been shuffling
From department 
To another
And other reports
She gets to sleep
On a bed
With a nurse
There’s no doctor
Blood dribbling out
The saline drip
She writes
To the doctor   
But  then
Nobody does
If only they knew it wasn’t 
They’d have packed her off
With medicine
They’ve had no sleep
All three of them
The  mania sets in
They get a pipe 
The next day
To draw out the poison
She chokes with pain
She cannot scream
The pipe’s inside
He notices
Her tears
Stop he says
She calls the doctor
Get Anesthesia 
she says
They dip the pipe
In that numbing liquid
The pain is gone
The foul concoction 
Retched out
The poison probably 
Long gone
Now she’s back 
To another ward
No one gives her
Her medication 
The poor doctors
She’s dizzy
There’s no breakfast
A poor old lady
With two pairs of clothes
In the city
From a distant village
Seeking a cure
For her daughter’s
Undiagnosed illness 
She asks
She enquires
She’s not
Shocked to learn
I’m all alone
She brings it
A tiny box
And offers her
A large laddoo
She can’t accept
She’s sophisticated
She has to save
For her daughter 
No she says
You are my daughter 
She takes a bite
Is delicious
With homemade ghee
The poor has 
For once 
Helped the rich
He’s gone to find
A better place
She’s calm
That’s a mirage
The mania 
Is rearing
It’s ugly head
The senior doctor
With his interns
Giving them
A monologue 
About what
She doe recall
She goes up
And give her own
How vital it is
To store
Their medical history 
Give them a file
Punch their papers in
And keep a parallel
In the hospital 
In case
They lose it
They listen in silence
Their expressions blank
She heads out
Down the stairs
And walks out
With the strength
And confidence
Of the mania
Or is it 
Of the mania?
On the streets 
Cars buzzing past
She has in mind 
A place to go
An unfinished business
The direction
She doesn’t know
She crosses the street 
A couple of times
Trough the traffic
Buzzing past
At high speeds
She’s weak
Just a laddoo
In her belly
She stretches her arm
Trying to get 
Someone to notice
She has nothing
No money
No cards
No phone
No direction
Just her clothes
And her slippers
And her faith
She wants to go
Where she once worked
To ask for help
Not for herself
But for those
Kind old souls
Who cannot travel
As they can’t
Climb up those stairs
Of their crumbling 
Then a man
Stops his bike
I’ve run out
Of the hospital
She tell him 
The  truth
I cannot take you
All the way
I’ll drop you
At the crossroads
They talk about
Her motives
His life
And then they’re at
The crossroads 
Who he was 
She’ll never know
But he was 
She thinks
Human being
She walks a kilometer
And then
She’s there
The place 
Where she worked
She tried to go in
She’s stalled
By the receptionist
Here clothes crumpled
Her face full of dirt
Her hair unwashed
She meets a person
He’s all nice
And his colleague
She’s recently joined
The one she seeks
The one
She thinks
Can help
Is no longer there
She tries to explain
To that man in white
But her brain
Is a muddle
She begins to tell
A wrong story
He asks
For her husband’s 
She tells  him
Where he works
She tells him
His number
But stops midway
Shes not going
Till she finished
She came for
He is gone
To get in touch
With her husband
She’s talking
To her
She looks
And sees them
They’re smiling
At her
They’re his friends
She tells her
They’re here canvassing 
She replies
She knows
They’re been sent
To get her
I’ll take you there
To the boss 
You want to meet
It’s a suite
With a comfortable bed
She knows it’s a trap
The boss doesn’t operate
From this place
They will come to get me
She says
I’m going out
She walks 
She spots a friend
He’s due to retire
Glad to see her
He takes her in
She sees the door
Of the big cabin
Walks in excited
She’s happy
But wants to know
Whether they’re using
The software
She had developed 
She’s unbalanced
Rage sets it
She races out
A kindly neighbour 
Has called
Her husband
They’re all there
To capture her
She rants
She screams
Walks out
And shouts
About human rights
Call the police 
She barks
Like a dog 
Pushed to a corner
There they are
So many of them
The executives
They pretend 
Not to see
She’s psycho
She needs
To be take away
She doesn’t know
The Mental Health Act
Five or six
They manhandle her 
And off she is
In his car
Was he right
Was she wrong
Was she right
Was he wrong
Could this have been
Nipped in the bud
No one will ever know
Except HIM
Was it all
Just meant to be?
Thrice she was lost
But was sent home
By kind souls
Sent by HIM
From the streets
To her aunt’s home
To her home
From the streets
To her hospital
To her home
Back from the streets
To her workplace
To her home
Wasn’t it her 
Who told them
Her cousin’s name
Wasn’t it her 
Who told the sister
About seven hills 
Who told him
Her workplace
Wasn’t it her
That told him
Her husband’s contact
Why did she tell?
Was it because
Deep in her heart
She still wanted 
To be back home?
Was it because
The Spirit in her
Showed her the way?
Was it just
A coincidence?