After roaming around Kolkata for two days, I go to the Boss on Monday morning. The time we started was 12 everyday, so I had more time to sleep and felt refreshed. Boss is wearing a dark grey suit today. Dark colors are her forte. She deals in dark thoughts. I wonder how much darkness is there inside her.

‘Did you work with your abusive voice these four days?’

‘Yes. Trying to befriend it, understand it.’

‘It will take some time but you will overcome it dear. You are so diligent and hard working. You know, these voices and hallucinations have a soul of their own. You have to conquer this soul.’

I did not quite understand it. But I nod my head.

‘Let’s move forward today. Traumafinder.’

The scenes move. They awaken my memories. My mother mostly sleeping, quarrels between my parents, I alone in my room. There is a dialogue I always spoke to myself: there are four people in the house-papa, mummy, me, and tension. A little smile crosses my lips when I think about it now. There are small red beeps at regular intervals from the Traumafinder. But the Boss did not stop. There is a big red siren. Boss asks the Traumafinder to go very slow.

I am in the bedroom with my mother. The room is as usual dark. She is stealing money from my father’s pocket. Recently she has got into this habit and it is a big reason for the quarrels my parents have. Then she comes over to me and instructs me. On that day, I am to give the admission test for the best school of our city. I have passed my fifth standard and am going into the sixth. I must have been eleven years of age. My father wants me to go into this school as it has a great track record in competitive examinations. My mother has other ideas though.

‘What is she telling you?’

‘Not to write the exam well. Ploy by my father to get back to her and me. My father and the rest of the city have conspired to get me into this school to harm both of us. Is a big conspiracy. I have to try my best not to pass the exam.’

I could see my mother’s face, stern and hard. She is almost threatening me.

‘What did you say to her?’

‘Agree. Angry but afraid of my mother.’

‘Traumafinder, let’s move.’

Then I am sitting in the examination hall all confused. I know many of the answers to the questions but I am not sure if I should write them correctly. It is an objective paper and sometimes I would tick the correct answer only to rub it and then tick the incorrect one. I am so afraid of my mother that if I pass this admission test, I have a feeling she would create a big ruckus in the house. She had been accusing my father of all kinds of things and I did not want any more trouble due to the exam. I did not write many of the correct answers and as expected did not pass.

‘She was all delusional.’

‘Guess so.’

‘Our societies hush up mental illness. It is never talked about. Even schools do not train their students to recognize and understand mental illnesses. Families do not discuss it. You should have been sanitized to your mother’s condition. So that you may have taken an informed decision on the things she was teaching you. Events like these, especially in the minds of children, create a lot of self-doubt. If your normality is repeatedly challenged with arguments that do not make sense, you get confused. Self-doubt evolves in your personality. We will see this happen to you.’

‘Lead to a lack of confidence?’

‘It does, sure it does.’

‘How can I get rid?’

‘Believe in yourself. Don’t let anyone including your voices create a sense of doubt if you want to do something. There is nothing wrong in making an effort.’

‘Try to remember it.’

‘We will end the session today. I will see you tomorrow.’

I come back to the hotel and think about how much of a lack of confidence I have shown in certain aspects of my life. I always have this feeling that I haven’t achieved my true potential ever, that I had always been bogged down by something. Whether it was marks in class, rank in competitive exams, winning girls, or taking a lead in events, something always pulls me down. I knew I have to get rid of this unwanted, uninvited self-doubt.

The voices have come back and I am talking to them. I am instructive to the sexual voice trying to teach the components of social contracts and human decency. I am trying to understand and befriend the abusive voice and it is warming up to me. The grieving voice still gives me anxiety and I try to shut it down.

I want to watch a movie. For a long time, I have been hearing about Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho but for some reason hadn’t watched it. It is available on Netflix so I start it. The Bates hotel looks like a creepy place along with its owner Norman Bates. The story is intriguing and well made. I am not an expert in the art of cinema but some movies give you a sense of tightness and perfection. That every scene is well crafted and leads to the other. The sense of mystery in this movie is pervasive. The ending is terrifying.

I sit there thinking why mentally ill people are always portrayed as murderers and evil monsters in movies. I could not remember any movie except A Beautiful Mind where people like us have not been demonized. It’s as if for the filmmakers we are a prop to spread evil and fear. They never seem to meet anyone mentally ill who has done them any good. Are we so bad? Am I like this? A train of self-doubt runs inside me. I decide to discuss it with Boss tomorrow.

My dinner has arrived and I have it while watching the movie ending. The hotel boy who brought it never looks me in the eye. He blinks repeatedly and looks on the floor. He gives me an impression of being lost somewhere else and only answers in one word if I ask him something. I wonder what led him to this state and if he was suffering from some trauma of the past. Should I be afraid of him? If one believes our film directors, I should probably be.