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Two Countries
'Why am I referred here? I don't have a problem.' I said.
She didn't react. Just gestured I remove my shoes and take the couch. She had an office like any other doctor's, minus the smells and cold, dangerous instruments.
'I'm sure people come here with big insurmountable problems. Boyfriends dump their boyfriends everyday. Hardly the reason to see a shrink, right? What am I, a psycho?' I had deliberately said 'boyfriend', probably to gross her out but she didn't bat an eyelid.
'No I'm the psycho. Psychotherapist to be precise. If you don't mind I prefer that to shrink.' she said.
'Sorry,' I said.
'Its okay,' she said and reclined on her chair. No more than thirty, she seemed younger for a shrink, sorry psychotherapist. Certificates from top U.S universities adorned the walls like tiger's heads in a hunter's home. Yes, another Indian had conquered the world of academics. Dr Priya Sherma, Valedictorian, AIIMs college.
'I charge $200 an hour.' she said.' 'Stare at the walls or talk. I'm cool either way.'
'Dr Sherma.....'
'Priya is fine,' she said.
'OK, Priya. I don't think my problem warrants this. I don't know why Dr Patrick sent me here.'
She stared at me for a while. Probably wondering what a white, muscled blond guy was doing in a shrink's office. But I was wrong, she had an idea or should I say some information.
She picked my file from her desk. 'Let's see. This is Dr. Patrick's brief to me- patient has sleep deprivation, has cut off human contact for a week, refuses to eat, has google searched on best ways to commit suicide.' She paused and looked at me with raised eyebrows.
'I Google all sorts of stuff,' I mumbled, 'don't you?'
'The report says the mere mention of his name, his neighborhood or any association, like his favorite dish brings out unpredictable emotions ranging from tears to rage to frustration.'
'I had a break-up. What do you expect?' I was irritated.
'Sure, with Ishan who stays in India. What's his favorite dish? Curd-rice?'
I sat up straight. 'Don't,' I said weakly and felt a lump in my throat. I fought back tears. 'Don't,' I said again.
'Don't what?' Priya egged me on, 'Minor problem, isn't it?'
'Fuck minor. It's killing me.' I stood agitatedly. 'Do you Indians even know what emotions are all about? No wonder India is a third world country.
'I'll ignore the racist comment. You can stand and talk, but if it is a long story, take the couch. I want it all,' she said.
I broke into tears. 'Why did this happen to me?' I sobbed.
She passed me a tissue.
'Where do I begin?' I said and sat gingerly on the couch.
'Where all love stories begin. From when you met him the first time,' she said.
'You seem surprisingly cool about gay people considering you are an Asian.'
'I have my reasons,' she said.
She drew the curtains and switched on the air-conditioner. I began to talk and get my money's worth.