Diary of a mad man

‘We should not do anything without
knowing proper planning,’ a mad man
in Tezpur Mental Hospital was loudly
repeating to himself.
Ravi, a journalist with Arunachal Times ,
noticed the man and later asked the
doctor about him. The doctor said, ‘I
pity this man, but who can change his
fate?’
‘I can’t understand you, Doctor,’ said
Ravi.
The doctor handed Ravi a diary and
said, ‘Here, read this. This is his
personal diary. He doesn’t usually give
it to anyone, but when I asked him for
it, he gave it to me.’
Ravi didn’t ask any more questions, and
silently returned home with the diary in
his hands. That night, he started
reading the diary. This is what the mad
man had written:
“I used to work in a courier firm. I had
a colleague called Prashant, who was a
good friend. I didn’t take much interest
in my work. Sometimes, I misplaced the
packages that our customers sent for
delivery or damaged them. I would
deliver someone’s letter to someone
else. Prashant would advise me to
concentrate on my work, but I ignored
him.
“One day, a packet of medicines
addressed to me and sent by my mother
arrived in our office. The medicines
were for the brain tumor that I was
suffering from. I kept the packet on my
table in the office, and went out to
deliver the letters that had arrived that
morning. I was in such a hurry to finish
my work that I forgot about my
medicines. I remembered about them
only when I got home, but it was
already evening and the office was
closed and so I couldn’t return to the
office to pick them up.
“The next day, I went to the office and
searched for the medicines but they
were nowhere to be seen. I was in a
panic! I knew that if I didn’t take my
medicines on time I would die at any
moment.
“After this incident, I realized the
importance of concentrating on my
work, and so I began working properly.
I worked as best as I could, but my
health began to deteriorate as I wasn’t
taking medicines for my brain tumor
since I had lost the medicines that my
mother had sent me and couldn’t get the
same medicines in the place where I
lived. I even fought off a robber who
was trying to run away with a package
that had arrived for delivery at our
office. He stabbed me in my stomach as
I was grappling with him.
When Prashant saw me badly injured,
he exclaimed, ‘Durgesh! Have you gone
mad? You fought with that man for a
small packet! You could have died!’
“‘Let me die, Prashant! Let me die!’ I
said. ‘My brain tumor will in any case
kill me. It is better to die saving a
precious packet meant for someone
than because of brain tumor. Oh God!
Why did I leave my medicines in the
office that day? Because of this, my
health has gone from bad to worse. It
was my fault, only mine.’
“Prashant exclaimed, ‘What! Were those
medicines that were lying on your table
that day meant for you? I never knew! I
have them with me! Here, take them,
Durgesh!’ Saying this, he took out a
packet from his drawer.
“I was shocked that Prashant had taken
my medicines. I shouted in anger,
‘What! They were with you and you
didn’t bother to tell me? Do you know
that I died a hundred deaths because I
was so tense about losing my
medicines?’
“Saying this, I lost all consciousness. The
pain from my wounds from being
stabbed was too much to bear.
“The next day, I woke up to find myself
in hospital. When I opened my eyes I
saw the manager of our company
standing near my bed. Noticing that I
was awake, he said, ‘Durgesh, your
friend Prashant is….’
“‘Let him die! I don’t want to hear his
name!’ I growled angrily.
“‘Yes,’ said the manager, ‘He is dead. He
was very hurt by your behavior
yesterday, and after meeting you he was
walking on the road and then a car….’
“The manager burst out crying.
“‘Why am I telling you all this?’ he said,
wiping his eyes. ‘You are an awfully
selfish man. May God punish you!’
Then, he put his hand in his pocket and
took out a plastic bag. ‘Here, take your
medicines,’ he said. ‘It was Prashant’s
last wish that you should recover from
your brain tumor.’
“I don’t know how to tell you how
shocked I was at the news, and how
ashamed I felt of myself. I desperately
wanted to ask Prashant for forgiveness,
but now it was too late.
“The tension was simply too much for
me to bear. Suddenly, the tumor in my
brain burst. Sadly, I didn’t die, although
my mind spun totally out of control. I
went mad, and was taken to the Tezpur
Mental Hospital, where I have been
living for the last four years. Maybe this
is God’s way of punishing me.”
*
Ravi finished reading the diary. He
heaved a heavy sigh, switched off the
light and went to bed. All through that
night he couldn’t get a single wink of
sleep.