One year has passed. I have been feeling much better now. I have improved upon my daily routine and brought in more discipline in my life. I have reduced my medications with the help of the psychiatrist. I remember the theorems and use them often. In this one year, I never gone into any sort of depression or episode. My hallucination and delusions are there but they do not trouble me anymore. Some of the voices have become my friend after I started talking to them. The abusive voice has mellowed down and comes occasionally and every time it arrives, I talk to it rather than reacting. I have started cycling for one hour a day for physical fitness. I sometimes write in my free time. I have made new friends at the University and would sometimes go out with them to the city and have fun.  My mother is still recovering and my father, in his old age, has smoothened up. He apologized to my mother and she has forgiven him. They never fight in front of me after my illness. In short, life is much better and enjoyable.

Sabina is still there. We have published a paper in the prestigious Academy of Management journal. She has presented the paper at Harvard, Stanford, and a list of American Universities, and at the Institute at Bangalore where the professors had congratulated her on this achievement. She did not meet Anirban but was sure he was aware of her lecture. With a new found confidence she has stopped worrying and thinking about him. No more sad days after drinking. No more hashish. We are still very good friends.

I can never forget Boss and what she did for me. We never met after that and neither did Sabina discuss anything about her with me. Such is the nature of understanding. Maybe she is helping someone like me right now with the Traumafinder. Someone who is in depths of despair and needs a stick to get out of drowning waters.

In the evening today, I take out my bicycle and go out cycling. I am riding on empty roads with wind blowing into my shirt. A sweet feeling has come over me. Everything is normal around me, or maybe it is not. There is a sense of magic. A sense of being visited by angels. A sense of being touched upon by god. A sense of poetic justice. And a sense of peace. A song is playing in my mind.

Toota toota ek parinda aise toota ke fir jud na paaya

Loota loota kisne usko aise loota ke fir ud na paaya

Girta hua wo aasman se aakar gira jameen par

Khwabon mein fir bhi baadal hi they wo kehta raha magar

Ke Allah ke bande hasde, allah ke bande,

Allah ke bande hasde, jo bhi ho kal fir aayega,

Allah ke bande hasde, Allah ke bande yeh yeh yeh yeh yeh,

Allah ke bande hasde, jo bhi ho kal fir aayega.