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(Page 1 of 6) The Insomniac by Luv Parakh
 (9 ratings)
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Dr. Vijay Dubey's little chamber walked the thin line between a claustrophobia-inducing rat hole, and a slightly misshapen cuboid within which four average-sized people, with average requirements of personal breathing space, could co-exist peacefully. But Dr. Dubey was not anywhere near average: not in terms of size, or spatial necessity. He was of a very generous build to the say the least, and random bundles of paper and files, competed with him to shove the stale ungodly air out of the chamber, neatly tucked into a corner of the fifth floor of a dilapidated, mostly deserted office block. But the good doctor was perfectly at home in this hostile environment. Of course, the same could not be said for his patients...
His personal little hellhole was probably the perfect antithesis of what his profession seemed to demand. He was a shrink; not great, but not bad either, considering where he conducted his practice. But mediocrity had seeped into his work through the cracks and recesses of disinterest and negligence, and well: he didn't give a damn.
Currently, he was trying to organize one miniscule subset of his paperwork before closing for the weekend. It was all a formality, of course. Not a little while later would he, give up, close shop, and watch the mandatory weekend movie. Even now, he was thinking of an excuse, the tiniest one, to dump all this and leave, but a rude rap at the door at his chamber interrupted his musing.
Before his mind registered the sound for what it was, a gangling clothed skeleton of a human being had stuffed itself inside his chamber and banged the door shut.
"How may I hel..."
"I don't have time for formalities, Doctor..."
"Dubey. And may I ask what urgent matter brings you into my chamber, when I'm preparing to leave?"
The curtness of the tone, and the sarcasm sprinkled with devastating finesse implied that the question did not need answering, but the other person's complete and absolute apathy utterly ruined the effect. Needless to say, this did not go down well with Dubey.
"My name is Ravi Kant Seshadri..."
There was a meaningful pause. But it was Dubey's turn now.
"And...?"
Gone was the initial pretense of swagger and superficial confidence.
"I...er...I..."
Dubey felt the faintest tingling of pity pinch him somewhere. He ignored it completely.
"Sir, if you have nothing to communicate to me besides your full name, I doubt whether I could be of much service to you," which sounded more like "Speak up quick or get your sorry ass out of here"
This seemed to have some redeeming effect on Mr. Seshadri. He seemed to regain some of his composure, only to lose it again. He dropped down, not too gently, onto the apology of a chair that the doctor had had the good sense to provide, bowed down, and began sobbing silently.
Now the doctor was disillusioned, but he was still human.
"Sir, I have an appointment with my dentist in an less than an hour, so if you could calm down and..."
"I'm sorry, it's just that...it's just that..."
Dubey sighed the exasperated sigh and threw the files in his hand in a corner where he would not find them for another eternity.
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