Ghosts Of Unbidden Guests

By Amla Srivastav

Well, I had thought I was over it. "I am strong, this doesn't affect me, it cannot affect me", I tell myself. But this lie doesn't get any easier when it hovers over me, staring me right in the eye during all my sleepless nights. This lie, or rather this blurry, haphazard cross between a lie and a positive affirmation, is itself the cause of many sleep-deprived nights. Sometimes, my confidence and bravery feel as real as my physical existence in this world, but the constant disturbing thoughts that visit me ever so often in the aftermath of the disturbing event, whisper something different in my ear.

In a desperate attempt to let go of this memory and the trauma, I've tried to voice out my thoughts, hoping I'll be able to get the load off my chest. I've searched for solace and comfort in the words and affection of my friends. However, though the comfort offered by them does keep me sane for a while, with each re-telling of the incident, the looming shadow of re-living the experience grows larger. As I attempt to bury the memories of violence in a brave demeanor, the memory itself starts becoming more and more violent as it struggles against me.

With no relief at hand, I helplessly observe how violence only begets violence, as the physical experience morphs into mental torture, both equally real, and equally painful. An external force, of course, inflicted the former. But the origins of the latter, whether it is a by-product of the experienced violence, or the silence post the encounter of the experienced violence, is something that I cannot quite put my finger on.

Each night, my mind hosts a party, quite similar to Jay Gatsby's, wherein I let the most random of thoughts be my guests as I entertain them in search for that one thought that may offer me some comfort in its presence. Very similar to Gatsby's guests, some of my guests get out of hand too, not leaving my mind-palace until early hours of the next morning, well overstaying their welcome. The most dominant group of guests being Negative Thoughts and forced memories of violence and the unfortunate incident, bring along an even stranger guest with them, Emotional Turmoil. Once the party is over, the invisible guests leave strange hints of their former presence in my mind. Instead of wreaking havoc in my mind, and leaving obvious remnants of doubt and insecurity, quite like the litter of red cups and spilled alcohol left around after a wild party, they leave the place unusually numb and empty. These guests don't really steal anything from me, but rather, bury my most precious and pleasant memories so deep down, that I, despite being there owner, am unable to access them. Tired of the group of Negative thoughts, along with their pile-on friend Emotional Turmoil, overtaking every conversation at the party, I decided that I had had enough of these uninvited visitors, and tried to slow poison them by feeding them with the facade of unaffectedness each time they came. Though Emotional Turmoil died soon, Negative Thoughts became immune to the poison. They continued dropping by at odd hours of the day, quite like old relatives, making sure I hadn't forgotten about them. With no other means left, I buried them alive in the backyard of my mind, under the soil of music, books, sit-coms and online classes. With this, the ghosts of the unbidden visitors became permanent residents in my mind.

By Amla Srivastav