Story: The Man with Bottles! (Part 3)

Here's the final part of the story:
Happy Reading!

PART THREE - BEFORE DEPARTURE

“Empty mind is a devil’s workshop”, my wife always said looking at me. I had nothing to do. I was almost lost in my own world of emptiness. My decision of retirement was . . . actually troubling others. My presence was a problem to others so, I decided to open a small shop of toys. I used the amount of my fixed deposit to set up a small shop. I always liked kids though my own son hated me for staying near him. Six months later, I realized my shop was running on loss and unfortunately, I had to close it. Whatever decent investment I made to set up and run that shop was now no more. My wife got one more reason to blame me. Her words turned more acidic . . . after getting informed about my failure. I thought she would show sympathy towards her defeated husband but, she did not. I did not get any support from her.

That defeat stayed with me for a long time, maybe I am still not over it.

After failing terribly, I did not feel like doing anything. I was alone and broken. I fought enough but couldn’t win anything. I removed the emotion of happiness from my life. I stopped looking for peace. Actually, I stopped feeling anything. I felt as if I was an emotionless man. Well, I became one. I wanted to express a lot but couldn’t do it. After a month, I got to know I was suffering from – depression. Time stopped for me.

I started visiting a psychiatrist who helped me a bit. He told me to be myself in front of him. But the truth was – I had forgotten myself. He asked me about my problems, and shamelessly I uttered my failures to him. He advised me to be in control as if I was not normal anymore. I’m not, I know.

One day, while drinking water from a bottle, I got an idea. I was thrilled by it. From the very next day, I started collecting bottles. I collected bottles from almost everywhere. From roads, from my house, from other’s house, from my old office and I also used to buy bottles from scrap dealer. All I wanted was lots and lots of bottles. After collecting bottles, I used to fill water in those bottles and keep in my garden.

My wife started having problem with this activity of mine. I ignored her and kept my things on. I enjoyed collecting, filling and staying with bottles around me. I knew without bottles around me I would feel uncomfortable. Once again, I started behaving normally. This habit of mine increased and soon went viral in my family. Even my neighbours started assuming I was mad. Anyone would feel I was a lunatic after watching my love for bottles but only I know the significance of these water bottles in my life. Honestly, without these water bottles, I won’t behave normally.

Bottles outside my garden aren’t filled with water; they are filled with my emotions. Whatever I had within me, I transplanted into those bottles. My fears, anger, joy, sadness, disgust, trust and expectation are all in those bottles. I can’t express my emotions and if I do, I am sure I will break all ties with my family. I have so much to say that I can’t but if I do; everything will be finished. 

It all started from there. From the day I retired. I shouldn’t have retired. I should have worked for some more years. I did not take voluntary retirement because I wanted to spend time with my life. I took retirement because I was tired. I was done. I worked in that bank for almost 30 years, from 8am to 9pm or 10pm; I lived half of my life inside a small cabin, I wanted freedom from it so, I quit. Yes, I was selfish but I was also tired. After 30 years, don’t I deserve some rest? I am writing this today because I don’t know what will happen tomorrow?

Tomorrow my wife is going to clear the garden because it’s full of bottles. She doesn’t love these bottles like I do. Once these bottles are gone, again I would feel empty or maybe I would turn mad or maybe I won’t be able to write again. I don’t know. But one fact won’t change ever: I am mentally ill. I know it because no normal human being ever collected bottles to store emotions in them.

The Man with Bottles  

After a week: Departure

I tried not to think about that story but I couldn’t take it off my mind. Emptiness in life can affect a person’s mental health. How empty he must have felt without any support? I had one more thing to do before I could go home. I went to my grandmother and apologised to her. I forgot to say it that night. I thought about my Daddi, she was always alone. No one is ready to hear her thoughts and finally she would have to bury those thoughts inside her. During this week, I noticed she was happy with me because she knew I was her support and only I listened to her, quietly. I decided to come to my native place every year.

I thought I won’t create any memory here. I was wrong. But now I was happy to be wrong.

If you don’t have someone to convey your feelings with, it can become a major problem.