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Archive for May, 2010

Once, I had no faith in psychiatrists. But when I myself visited the one, it changed my earlier opinion. My first visit to Dr. Ghazala in year 2000 was a unique experience. She gave me a white sheet of paper and instructed me to draw a ‘home’ on it. Holding the pen in my hands, I thought how to draw. At once, an idea struck my mind and I drew a few lines visualizing some home in my neighbour, where ‘some one’ important for me used to reside. After it, the doctor asked me to draw a tree. I followed it too and then handed over that page to her with a dumb face.

She looked at it, smiled and said me, “Nay! Tell me whose home you sketched?”

“It’s just an imaginary home for me”, I replied.

“Why it’s not the real one?”, was her next question.

“Because I couldn’t step in”, I replied.

“You have drawn windows there, but all of them are closed. Why?” she insisted.

“Because the person behind these windows fears to open them for me”, I replied.

“You haven’t even drawn any door”, she remarked.

“There’s no need to draw any door when I know I wouldn’t be allowed to enter”, was my reply.

She looked at me and whispered, “You have drawn the tree with long branches and leaves; I wonder why you haven’t drawn its roots too. Don’t you know such big trees need strong roots to stand firmly?”

I remained silent.

Then she narrated her analysis, “That tree is imagery of your own persona. Not drawing roots show that you feel yourself a fragile one. The home you drew is the indicant of the mental asylum. Showing no door means you feel yourself insecure and seek refuge in solitude. These closed windows are the sign of desperation and anxiety.”

Then Dr. Ghazala advised me, “You have to open the window. When you succeed in doing that, you will also find some door opened for you, and then your tree would stand firmly, having no fear to fall…..”


Well, after 7.5 years to my first visit, finally I wished to open those closed windows. Unfortunately, the door is yet closed for me and my roots are getting weaker day by day.

(- Writer: Nay Af/Autumn GreenWritten in October, 2008)

Psychiatrist

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Dreams!
Every time, when I look at the window,
Across the stretched curtains of solitude,
Your face gleams.
And I wish to hold your hand,
And dance in the dream land.

Meet me under the old oak tree,
While you sleep tonight.
We will sit for hours,
(Revelling the rain of flowers)
And would listen the resonation of each other’s lips.
I can imagine how your voice sounds;
Delicate, shy, and gentle.
Like the soft wind that your words bring into my soul;
Touching, caring, and sentimental.

You hid your hands behind your back,
Like they can’t impress my soul.
They are thin, clumsy and black,
Don’t be sad.
Get them out,
And look at the lines.
Can they tell the future,
By showing glossy signs?
Or are they just a reminder of the past,
Of years of waiting for the joy?
(That we promised ourselves?)
Decades ago,
When I was young girl, and you were boy.

(- Writer: Nay Af/Autumn Green)

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