the REHAB

the REHAB

‘He is not addicted, he is fine. He is working on his school project. Could you please leave us alone officer?’ she said as she stood near the sofa, negligently shaking.

‘I am afraid I can’t ma’am. Take me to his room.’ He said bluntly.

‘You are not going anywhere near him, nobody is. He is fine. Why can’t you just let it go for god’s sake?’ she begged and choked.

‘Okay, let me make this extremely clear to you. He is in trouble, one way or the other. Now there is one less destructive way out of this and you know it. I’m here to help and I can really be helpful, provided you co-operate. Take me to his room.’

She stared at the off-white wall in a feeling so alien to her that she could not comprehend it. She glanced at the painting she made for him as a kid and then laminated it as a memory years later. She looked at the staircase leading to his room and wished it weren’t there. As she saw the blank look on the officer’s face she somehow knew she was finally facing what she feared but her denial still had the better of her. She guided the officer up to the door of his room and as she opened it she wished she had opened up more often to her brother.

The door opened to a well-organized room as she planned. The cushions matched the blue colour of the curtains. The guitar lying perfectly inclined on the other side of the bed. The windows were wide open and the table was clean. And there he sat on an easy chair like an 80 year old. His eyes so deep and yet so blur, like the sun one couldn’t look at them for long. His hands were so skinny that his fingers almost seemed to be robotic. He sat on the chair like he had just collapsed. He had a white shirt on and just like all the other things in the room, he seemed to be decorated.

‘Look. There he is, all organised and systematic. He has no issues. He is fine officer.’ She looked at the officer straight in the eyes in order to convince him. She spoke with a loud voice but it was still quivering. ‘He is just my little brother’ she whispered in a cracked voice.

‘Talk to him.’ said the officer. ‘Have a conversation with him and I promise I’ll leave here right now.’

She stared at him and his confidence caused her hope to attenuate. She looked him in the eye and she wondered if she could ever hate something more than those eyes. She had the answer the very next moment. It was the fact that he was right.

‘Elliot. She said softly as she walked closer. Elliot, hey! How‘re you feeling today? Is… is your hand okay? Here, let me see your hand. Let me...’

He bounced in startle as if someone just woke him up, as she touched his hands. He looked at her like a total stranger and settled himself back on the chair with his legs up and his stick-like hands covering them like a ring.

‘Elliot… Elliot, say something, please.’ She cried as tears busted out her watery eyes. ‘Say something or they’ll take you Elliot. Say something…’ she whispered as she slid down the wall and started crying like a little baby.

Elliot looked down at her in a painfully numb manner. She wished he could see her sister crying for him but all he saw in her was an image of himself a few months ago sitting right there. Crying just like her.

‘Don’t let them take you, please.’ She said those words with the last bit of hope she had left in her.

“Did they?” Aden asked. “Mr. Green?”

“Huh?”

“Did they take him away?”

‘Oh. Oh yes. Yes they did. They cured him, physically.” Mr. Green said, still lost.

“Did it hurt?” he asked as innocently as any 9 year old would.

“It did. It did hurt. But it was all worth it when Elliot returned home to see his sister waiting in anticipation with tears in her eyes, just like the time he left. But this time, they were of joy. And this time Elliot knew what they meant. That moment cured him mentally. As he hugged his sister, he realised something.”

“What?”

Mr. Green looked at the boy and smiled at his shear purity and clean immaturity.

“He realised,” he continued. “That feeling the deepest pain or sorrow or emptiness was always better than feeling nothing. That the time he lost to drugs, was the time he would regret the most in his life and yet, this regret was a better feeling than the numbness they caused. He realised that boredom and freedom aren’t necessarily rivals and that no cocaine or crack or weed could fill the void one feels in life. That void is formed due to lack of understanding and tolerance and love and can only be filled with understanding and tolerance and love. He realised that life isn’t always the easiest but it is always worth living and the vacuum he feels to have missed living those years he lost control, was much more intense than the vacuum he intended to escape on the first place. He realised that loosing self-control was in-fact largely divergent to the freedom it is tagged to and that when one loses control, one gives up even the tiniest possibility one has towards being free or entertained. He couldn’t have felt more alive in his entire life and he never wanted to give up this feeling to feel all the emotions that he could possibly experience. He hugged her tight and never let go of his life again.”

He stopped as he realised he was almost talking to himself. He looked at Aden who smiled at him, not sure if he understood the story correctly. Mr. Green smiled back.

“Thank you for taking care of him Professor Green. And I’m really sorry for the delay. Apparently being a teacher isn’t as easy as it seems.” Aden’s mother arrived at the door of the little cabin.

“It’s okay. And call me Elliot.” He said as he smiled at Aden.

Drugs aren’t a way out of boredom or towards freedom; they are just invisible pathways towards social, economic and personal prison. And if you go too far, the path becomes one-way.

-Akshat Vyas