The first candidate is to start at 10 a.m. I have put an alarm at 8 but when the alarm rings, I sleepily switch it off. There is another alarm at 9:30 for security reasons, in case the first alarm does not wake me up. I rise up at the shrill music of the Nokia alarm tune, switch it off, and sit on the bed with my eyes closed. My whole body wishes to lie down and sleep. I feel drugged. This is a struggle I have to undergo every morning, the struggle to get up. If it was a holiday, I sleep till 12 in the noon. Otherwise, I wake up like a little child being asked to sit in a class, totally disinterested. I knew the medicines did it. I had never had this problem before I fell ill.

Gathering some strength, I rise up from the bed. It is 9:45 already. I brush in a hurry and change to formals I had bought with me. When I log in to skype, some members are already present. The candidate is waiting and once all the members join in, the presentation starts. The candidate is being interviewed for the Organizational Behavior area. My voices have arrived and I have to play a dual role of talking to them and listening to the presentation. When the presentation ends, there are some questions from the panel. I ask two questions and am more or less satisfied with the answers. I give a positive review to the candidate in the online form we have to fill.

Five more presentations follow. Each presentation takes around one hour fifteen minutes. There is a lunch break in between. The last presentation ends around five. The committee members talk to each other for a while. I tell them I have come to Kolkata to meet some friends. Some of members are from Kolkata and they ask me details. I make up a story and give it to them. It is difficult for us to talk about our mental health issues in the professional arena. The comfort levels are not that high.

I am drained. I take a bath and lay down on the bed.

‘It’s so sad. They know it now. You are sick, they must have made it out. They will ask you to leave. Your days are numbered. We are doomed together. Our lives are going to be hell.’

This voice always makes me anxious. I have no idea what to do so I ask it to keep quiet.

‘Your fate is sealed now. You are sick and you cannot work here. They are not going to allow you to work here.’

‘Shut up.’

Then the sexually charged voice arrives.

‘The third candidate, she was good. #$% #$%^&* #$%^ # #$%^&*#. #$% #$%^ #$ #$% #$% #$%^ #$%^. You have her number. #$% #$% #$%^ #$% #$% #$%^ #$%?’

‘This is a professional relationship. These things don’t happen in a professional sense. She will #$%^ in personal life whoever she wants.’

‘#$%^ #$%^ #$% #$% #$% #$ # #$%^&. #$% #$%^ #$%^ #$ #$ #$%. #$% #$%^ #$ #$%^&*&^ #$%^ @#$%^&* #$%. I am sure of it.’

‘You have no way to know this thing. You are just a voice in me.’

‘I am connected to people’s mind. I know it.’

‘That’s bullshit. You are not connected to anyone.’

‘Disease born, when we say we are connected, we are connected.’ said the abusive voice.

‘Why are you so abusive to me?’

‘Because you are like this. A man of pain.’

‘What have I done?’

‘You have fucked women.’

‘I have never done it.’

‘Fuck you, you man of pain.’

This voice made me angry. But I did not let anger take control of me. ‘Calm down dear voices, lets discuss and understand each other.’

For the next three hours till dinner and an hour after that, I talk to my voices. I hear them out, try to reason with them, give them answers when needed. I am learning the art of talking to one’s voices. The only voice I could not understand how to deal with is the one which grieves and complains all the time that things would go wrong. It aggravates my anxieties. I try to keep myself calm. When it is eleven thirty, I take my medications and sleep.

  I wake again at 9:30. Sleepily, I brush and wear the formals to sit in front of the laptop. Today again there are six interviews so it is going to be a long day. All the six candidates are women. One peculiar thing about this University is its high female to male ratio. Both in its student and the faculty population, the ratio is the highest I had ever seen or heard in any Institute or University. Many of these women are in a leadership position, so one had to work under them. When there are greater numbers of women, the environment of any place takes a completely different hue. I felt more comfortable under the garb of this fact. The patriarchal and male dominated environment would have given me greater anxieties. There is a certain kind of sensitivity one can associate with women which most men do not exhibit and neither do they understand. So, I am happy interviewing all these women candidates. Some of them would make it to the team of faculty here, and provide a balance so needed and desired.

When the meetings finish, I check my email. There is a mail about the feedback collated from the students of my Microeconomics class. The voices which had been there with me all through the meeting, especially the grieving voice, get aggravated.

‘Don’t open this email. It’s a message of your doom. They would have just crushed you. You know what you have done. Nothing good is here. Delete this email. Otherwise, it will make you sad. You have lost it.’

I as usual get anxious. It is clear to me that teaching feedback is the single most important thing which would decide on my fate here at the University. Most of our Institutes and Universities, even though they incentivize research, focus on teaching well. Your teaching performance is crucial to your existence at the University. I open the feedback. There are all kinds of components the students have marked me on. Overall, the score I get is between good and very good with some nice comments in the end. The recurring comment is that the faculty was patient with the students and treated them fairly.

Little things make our day. They come as if beautiful butterflies are dancing around you as you revel in their colors. I stand up and move around for a while like those butterflies. There are colors of happiness in me. I get a flicker of hope that things would turn around for me. That my life would now change. The song, ‘Yaaron ji bhar ke jee le pal, lagta hai aajkal, daur apna aayega, yaaron jo khud pe ho yakeen, to zindagi haseen, tujhe kal bulayega, hai junoon’ is playing in my mind. That all my sadness would be looted and will vanish. When life is good, we ignore so much of these little things. When life sucks, we cling to little things as if we are a child clinging to our mothers.

As I am moving around, Sabina calls.

‘How, you?’

‘Doing well.’

‘Get the feedback?’

‘Yes.’

‘Got a final grade between good and very good. Some nice comments too.’

‘I got an excellent feedback. So many nice things the students had to say about me. You know one of them said that I am the best teacher they had ever studied under. These guys are so sweet, no.’

‘Wow. You so good.’

‘I had no idea either.’

‘Have to learn from you.’

She laughed. ‘We have our individual styles. Let’s stick to that.’

I smile. We talk a little more. She says her father is taking sessions with her about her problems. That she is coming to terms with her loss. She has been working on the model as well and is almost desperate to prove her academic credentials. She would send me the model in a few days. She then went on about the school friends she has been meeting everyday and the lovely time she was having with them. That how much she loved the Kolkata food they explore together. That Park Street was the trendiest place on earth. That nothing could be sweeter than having sandes at home. That she is for sure going to come for Durga Pooja next time even if the University does not give any holidays. That the Darjeeling weed available here takes you to a heaven far far away. That South Kolkata women are so bitchy. Finally, she ends with a sigh that she would have to leave the city next month. And the thought makes her sad.

‘Separation doubles up the love.’

‘I know all this. But I will be very sad.’

‘Will cheer you up.’

‘You are so sweet Kabir. I have to go now. You are going to the session on Monday, no?’

‘Yes.’

We say goodbye and she hung up. I order dinner and go back to talking to the voices.