Mandar

He had a strange knack of calling at the wrong time, sometimes just when i was boarding a bus or train, or sitting on the pot newspaper in hand or when i was knitting my brows with my lawyers at the cases i was saddled with. Moreover there was always a sense of urgency in his call. If i told him i would call back he would plead that i should do so without fail and till he unburdened his mind of what seemed to trouble him he would remain restless. My mother often annoyed at his lack of timing, dismissed him off like many others as crazy. But with the closure of each call he would pronounce his prayers that the good Lord keeps me in good cheer and how indebted he was to my listening to him. Embarrassed and amused i would ask him to reserve them for others. He suffered from Schizophrenia for more than three decades and to my mind was one of the most heroic people i have known. John Nash will be remembered for Game theory but a ‘beautiful mind’ is no euphemism for the state of mind of such a patient. Most of them live in the dark fringes where none notices their furtive movements, plagued by their own demons even at noontide.

Mandar was a lean and lanky boy at engineering college and was not a bright student but was always with a winsome smile and delicate features that some thought were feminine. He was always lost in his own world and if you went close to him you would hear some taan of a natyasangeet piece or some alaap of raag Chandrakauns if not Bageshree. His tastes in music were considered weird by his hostel mates who loudly complained about wailing sounds emerging from his room as against their heavy metal or rock.  He even made risque jokes using Hindustani music terminology. He was a loner and engineering did not interest him and he would make fun of my taking studies too seriously. Like me he too was doing it because our fathers thought we had no future without a professional degree, though unlike my father his dad was wealthy and bought him expensive things from Dubai like the huge tape deck that he thoughtfully brought to my hospital room to keep me company when i was down with Malaria and few if any visited me.  He was fascinated by Gandhi and read every biography written on him. He took up living alone and like many of my classmates left India to look for green pastures (as also a card by the same colour) to study abroad. I lost touch with him for more than fifteen years after i graduated. Within a year his father received a call that he was a public hazard and was ill and hospitalised, found wandering naked on the streets of Ohio talking to himself, eating at garbage dumps. He heard voices deep in his head and acted by their dictates.

Unwilling to accept his diagnosis his father thought he should become serious and act the man that he was, browbeating him to a discipline to make something of the vanished career he had invested in for him. Fortunately a cousin brother was a reputed psychiatrist who braved the father in time to reach out to him with medication and counselling that the father pooh poohed. He took up a job at Ingersoll Rand and was terrified of his boss and would lurk and hide and absent himself from work. He imagined that his boss would terrorize him and he would slink away from work till he was caught doing something unthinkable. He would pinch material from his office and give it to their competitors at KG Khosla. He would get into buses and pinch women’s bottoms making suggestive gestures and was often beaten and thrown off. He was not in control of himself. He feared every authority figure and his boss plagued his nightmares and he quaked if anyone raised his voice. His mother suffered tremendously and silently and was his sole support (though he wished she would protect him from his father). They had a broken family with two of his three sisters divorced and suffering bipolar or OCD and often would invade the house making loud demands. He would not last more than a month in any job that he took up which vexed his father even more. He was under medication which would sedate him and make him drowsy and to get over it he would discard or stop his medications for the symptoms to return with a vengeance. He thought his neighbours laughed behind his back and followed him into street corners and dark alleys mocking his fondness for women. He attempted suicide several times. It was thought that marriage would cure him and his parents arranged his marriage without informing them of his condition. His wife despite her deep sense of betrayal and disappointment stood him in good stead and took tuitions to support the growing family and they were blessed with a daughter. He worshipped his wife and was deeply devoted to her and cared for his daughter like a mother. He often stated that his wife was his sole bedrock and the ground beneath his feet. Yet his symptoms would not spare him of suffering his lurking fears.

One day in 2002 when i had myself left my own career and was unsure of my future with my own father seriously ill, he accidentally tried my number and spoke at length. He wished to see me immediately and soon he was telling me his tale of woe. It was clear that he wanted a job and it would take his mind off his troubles. I asked my college friends to help and few had the time or the inclination. I spoke to my friend Sriram who in turn spoke to a respected business family who had a small firm. They were told of his medical condition and that he would be helped even if they paid him whatever they could for a sales job in selling cutting tools. The generous family took him under their wing and tolerated his errors and he for the first time in his career remained in a job for more than five years much to the relief of his family. He was a devoted father ferrying his daughter and wife to every place they wished to go, school, classes, college etc. Soon he felt that he must support his family like a man and earn more so that they could afford some luxuries. Though we were fearful of his new zeal he heeded not our caution but changed three jobs to soon return back to the same place. He was worried when his pay turned three times its earlier level (Rs 15 thousand). He once stopped his medication to save more money for his family till it was discovered that his symptoms were reappearing. The family business now changed hands to the next generation and the young owners were less tolerant of his behaviour and put him on straight commissions. He missed the indulgence that the older generation had and called regularly to ask for advice as he fretted at their questions asking him to fill detailed journey plans and expense statements.

He would wonder aloud how he could not remember the simplest things and how he was troubled by his inadequate technical knowledge about the strength of materials, the cutting dynamics and productivity from the cutting tools that he sold. I would merely listen and suggest simple things like keeping a diary and to be honest with clients when he was in doubt. He would then veer off to his several problems at home and how his earnings were too slender to support his family and how his fear of his father’s wrath pushed him into a corner since his childhood. His wife soon completed her studies and found a well paying job at an international school. His family was now not dependant on his earnings but he was troubled by the disparity in the income that he brought to the table (he managed less than Rs 25K per month). His wife never really made him feel small or slighted but it gnawed him that he was not wearing the pants in the house as most men do. However he remained deeply respectful and devoted to his wife. His family troubles did not cease with his father wanting to make amends and going in the opposite direction and alienating his daughters who were themselves  ill, inviting loud declamations. His sister who suffered from OCD found fault with everything in the kitchen and they soon shifted to a quieter place. His own daughter grew into her teens and was soon at college growing to become disdainful and impatient with her father. He would mournfully unburden himself to me how distant she seemed to grow. He even felt that his wife overlooked if not supported the child’s rude behaviour.

He would call once in ten days and would chat for about half an hour till i grew impatient at the repetition. I only listened to him. I told my mother to be patient when he came home (he was terrified of her) and that Schizophrenics have a short life span given their heavy medication and drew parallels to another friend of mine who has been a painter who like Vincent could never sell a painting. My mother mocked how i was a magnet to the crazy. Yet she was gracious and friendly whenever he showed up. I had not heard from him in more than a month and i thought it was good as he was no more troubled and was at peace  (little did i know what it hinted). Yet another month passed and when i called his phone was switched off and i made light of it. I keyed his name into google casually this afternoon and was horrified to read a news piece that on the day of the vernal equinox which was 21^st March even by the Hindu calendar he was killed in a road accident in a car he had hired to take his daughter on a holiday (the driver died too) with his wife and daughter as survivors en route to Mahabaleshwar near Khandala.

I recollect his ambition to start a support group for Schizophrenics in Mumbai and i was proud when he rang up another friend of mine who suffered the same condition telling him his tale and encouraging him. He had by any account led an exemplary life and was victorious in battling his several odds. By April he had completed 15 years of a sales career when no one thought it feasible. It was not the size of his earnings but his struggle to fulfil all his roles as a son, father, and husband against tremendous odds that makes him so unique a hero in my eyes. I now wish he called me more often and that i did so too. There were times that i would mechanically tell him not to worry and that things will turn fine. I wish i was more attentive. He was happy when i told him how well he was doing and i meant it. The last time we spoke he said we must have alu wadi and kanda poha or misal pav together some morning. That morning never came.