I am a psychiatrist and I know what’s wrong with him, yet I cannot cure him. It’s not like I am not trying, but there’s no way to protect him while I am dying.
He sits near me everyday and just when he thinks I’m not watching he goes into one of his trance.I don’t let him though for long; singing does the job. I must tell you that not even my husband can bear my crusty voice. So he starts singing along to keep the memory intact. Being the member of a rock band for years just voice is smoother compared to mine.
It was during his early years as a drummer that we network. He was having a blast of his life.Consequent live performances, abroad tours made him tired and just to get out of it – he did drugs. Well most of them did without putting much thought. They we’re ,five in total, Brad and Nell were married, Ken lived with his girlfriend. Dunsten and Harry were the loners. Dunsten had a sister and Harry had none.
He was just 7 when his parents got divorced. He from then onwards He was tossed from one parent to the other.
They created the nature he had then when I met him. He came as a patient of depression to me and gradually won my heart.
Now when he keeps on staring at me I could feel those pools of blue almost different from the time we first met.
“You are starving, now go and have lunch, “my sound came out as a rare whisper. “I don’t need that ,” “What do you need then? ” I asked him irritated. “I need to kiss you, I need you to stay strong, I need you to stand beside me till we grow old. ” Tears threatened to stream down yet I held them, I had to be strong for him.
©Paramita
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