I return back to the hostel, a man depressed even more than what I had been before my suicide attempt. I lay on my bed for a few days. The academic year is going to end. If I did not give my thesis seminar soon, I will have to wait another year to pass out. The Institute administration had asked for a doctor’s certificate to allow me to give the seminar.

I go to the doctor a few times. Later, my father said that the doctor had been very supportive. He had counseled them well, allaying some of their fears. He said that when I was sick, I would shout that it’s all over for me now in this world. One day the doctor was there when I was shouting. He scolded me telling my parents that none of it is over and I could still live a dignified life. He gave me medicines, a bunch of them, and I used to take the medicines regularly.

As for the thesis seminar, the doctor gave his permission, something I will always be thankful to him for. I had written my thesis sometime back and submitted it. My thesis advisors got it approved by the reviewers. The reviewers were known to him, one of them being a faculty of the Institute, and the other my senior who I was consulting for the work earlier. There is some confusion about my presentation date. But it is finally fixed. I give a mock presentation to my father in the room they are staying.

Finally on the day of presentation, I walk into the seminar room. There are a few people seated. I load my presentation on to the laptop and the peon tucks a microphone in my shirt. Some professors come too. My thesis committee members are sitting in the first row. I go slide after slide, generally reading them, interspersed intermittently with my views. I have thirty minutes and I finish at around that time. There is one question from the audience. I answer it and the Professor and his colleague elaborate it further. It all ends well. The office manager takes a photograph. I have to get a few papers signed by the thesis committee. A small meeting is held with some professors and me and the reviewers. We discuss about the importance of the work and I answer some questions in the affirmative. Finally, I am passed, and get my PhD cleared.

As I come out of the building, I stand there waiting for my father who is also present in the presentation. I stand there looking at the building. There is no thought in my mind. I do not capture the essence of this moment. I am numb to the importance of the event. None of the traumas I faced during this five-year journey come into my mind as I am standing looking at the library overlooking the lawns. Perhaps the medicines have brought a certain sense of calm to me. There is no relief as well. I haven’t won any battle. What am I thinking standing there waiting for my father? 

My mother calls me on the mobile and I go to their room. They are all very happy. My father is telling her how well I spoke in my presentation. Pieces of goodness surround me. The voices have taken a rest for some time. They are not bothering me. There is a heavy silence inside me. Heavy and dark, yet there is silence and that is a respite. We are having our evening snacks. My mother is giving us the samosa she has brought from the shop outside. There are eight more days to go for the convocation. I am not sure what we would do in the time between now and the convocation. My mother asks me if they would allow us to live here for some more time, a month or two till I get a job. It doesn’t occur to me then but she wants to rest as well, having sweated out alone for a while in her hometown. My father is in the other room and he emerges after a while as my mother is asking me this.

‘We should leave now. You have done your work. What will we do for all this time?

‘Why should we leave, let us attend the convocation! And he can stay here till he gets a job.’ My mother said.

‘You don’t understand. There is no need for us here anymore. They need these rooms to give to the guests for the convocation.’

‘Have they said anything to you?’

‘Yes, his chairperson called me.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He said it’s better that we go now. They need the rooms.’

‘That is strange. Why do they want us to leave? Don’t they have enough rooms?’

‘I don’t know. He has a point though. A number of high-profile people will attend the convocation. The media will cover it. They are not sure about him staying here for…’ He didn’t complete the sentence.

The voices come back to me.

‘You have failed us. So, you have to leave as soon as possible,’ said the feminist.

‘Yes, we have given you everything you need. You can go and lead your life as and how you wish,’ said the captain.

‘Ask them why can’t you attend the convocation?’ said the Counsellor.

‘Because people like you are not invited to this place. We are respectable people. Lots of eyes are on us. Someone like you will spoil the party,’ said the devil.

‘And you have no dignity left. The first thing you do is get a woman for yourself. Forget her now,’ said the female leader.

‘He does not know how to get a woman. We have seen that,’ said the feminist.

‘Ask them if they have ever won the heart and soul of a woman or for that matter a man. He knows it much better than all of you,’ said the Counsellor.

‘We don’t want to get involved in it anymore. Just leave,’ said the wheelchair man.

‘You man of pain, eater of shit, get the hell out of this place. You do not deserve a thing from here. You are always troubling people,’ said the abusive female voice.

‘I told you that doom is inevitable. You need no other proof,’ said the grieving voice.

 “This is how capitalist institutions treat the weak and the oppressed. You are of no use to them, so they are throwing you away without giving you proper rights. You deserve to attend the convocation after all the hard work you did,” said the writer.

‘No, you do not. People like these have no idea how hard we try to maintain the reputation of this place. You don’t deserve it anyways. Pack your bags and leave,’ said the female leader.

 ‘Let’s pack your bag. I will book the tickets for tomorrow evening. You can take your provisional degree from the office in the morning tomorrow.’ I hear my father say.

This is one more punch in my gut. I had thought of the convocation before. We as a family had discussed many times that we would all attend it together. I am disappointed on hearing this. Whatever little positivity I have gained after the presentation pours away from me. I go to the balcony to smoke a cigarette and listen to my voices.