Page 76 of The Circle of Exile
She shook her head. “It happened this morning and then I was able to bring myself out of it.”
“What brings you out?”
“I don’t know… doing something? Channeling my mind into something. I started folding his clothes and arranging them colour-wise and it’s been good ever since.”
“Do you want to talk to somebody about this? A therapist?”
“Actually, I did talk to Dr. Baig when we were doing the examinations.”
“What did she say?”
“She was the one who suggested channeling my mind into a task. And I realised that had always worked. She also walked me through my hormonal crashes. And without even me telling her my systemic symptoms, she was pinpointing what would have been my state of mind at a particular time.”
“But this is more than postpartum depression. It started way before.”
“Some women also go through prenatal depression. There might be fancy terms for it but in a nutshell, it happened because the traumas of my entire life crashed on me in that one piece of news. I see it now, in hindsight,” the vulnerable pool of her eyes solidified. “And even as I get scared and have bad thoughts and bad feelings from time to time, I also feel myself getting seasoned. Like I am developing resistance after Nagar.”
A sudden, incredible smile formed on her lips — proud, bright, like the sun. Her eyes widened — “I had never told this to myself until the words came out now in front of you. But I find myself becoming stronger and stronger every day even if I get really scared in those episodes. That’s good, isn’t it?”
His hands tightened on her delicate face. It was so gaunt. But the glow on her wet cheeks was like looking at the fire that had been extinguished but managed to spark off again.
“Make me a part of it.”
She frowned.
“Your bad moments. Make me a part of them. What would you like me to do when you feel that?”
“I don’t know, Atharva.”
“Ok. Just tell me when it happens?”
She wetted her lips. They looked dry. He ran a thumb over them, rubbing the crusty surface. “I have nothing to offer you right now except my support, Iram. I cannot cure this for you. I wish I could, but I can’t. Let me be a part of it until it is cured.”
She nodded, tears streaming down her face and onto his thumb. He whirled his eyes up from her lips and saw hope in her eyes. That feeling he had experienced a moment ago, of them being ok? That was solid now. Because she believed in it too.
“Is there still anger inside you?”
He began to shake his head.
“Honesty, Atharva.”
He nodded. “It’s irrational but still there. I know you did not leaveme. Now I do. In time, I will understand too.”
“So, if I say or do something that makes you angry at me?”
“I will swallow it down.”
She glared up at him. That stubborn, sweet, old-Iram expression broke the last fetter holding him down in the trenches. His body felt lighter as he answered — “Tell you and pray you don’t throw something at me.”
“Right answer, Janab.”
“That reminds me,” he pushed his face closer down to hers, their noses touching — “Don’t call your son Janab. That’s me.”
Her mouth dropped open. Atharva felt his face stretch, the smile wobbling down and then building back up again as their eyes remained connected. He held her gaze, pushing himself to stay in this moment. Her answering chuckle was nothing but a silent huff. Silent, but unmistakable. Like it was a breath of wind itself, it blew and made his entire body buoyant as he stepped away from her and strode towards the door.
“Come on, he would have wreaked havoc in Begumjaan’s room. It’s his midnight feed time.”
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