Pankhudi cried the whole night lying on her bed in those torn clothes. Last time he entered her house, she was dismayed and angry; she tried to wash off his touch in the shower. Now how could she wash off her own lust? It was indeed traumatic for her to realize that she was broken to such an extent that she had surrendered before him. She had been responding to his touches and kisses, she couldn't shake off that guilt and disgust she felt for herself.
She felt she needed help now; she had so many questions and finding an answer to each of them had become important for her. Earlier she used to share her problems with Nisha. She knew that Nisha would be still willing to listen, but she didn't want to drag her into this mess again.
She thought for a long time, trying to think of a way to help herself, trying to find answers. She made up her mind to see a psychiatrist. It was difficult for her to afford a psychiatrist in a city like Mumbai considering the high fees they charge, but she was in dire need. If she didn't help herself now, she might soon go insane.
On the scheduled day and time, she reached the clinic. She was called in.
The psychiatrist asked her to take a seat. The doctor was a lady with a pleasant personality, and her gentle and soothing way of speaking Pankhudi more comfortable.
"I have been facing a problem recently." Pankhudi said nervously.
"I understand, tell me about it." The doctor said.
"I get these dreams that I am being stalked by a man. He keeps tormenting me, molests me, and touches me as and when he pleases despite my resistance. I get these dreams repeatedly and I find them very disturbing."
"Did you see the face of the man in your dream?" the doctor asked, "Is he someone you know?"
"No" Pankhudi replied, "He is a total stranger. I have never seen him before in my life."
"If a dream appears repeatedly it could be a manifestation of some stressor in your life. Are you going through something particularly stressful?"
"I don't know, I can't think of anything in particular. It's just that this dream...over and over again. Last time I had a dream about him, he was molesting me in my own house on my own bed!" Pankhudi was tearful as she said this, "And what was most disturbing was that I was responding to him. Why doctor? I hate him! I hate him more than anything else! Then why was I getting aroused when I was touched by this man who has made life hell for me? I want to know! Why is this happening to me?"
"Are you sure we are talking about your dream and nothing else?" the doctor asked suspiciously.
"It's the dream." Pankhudi said hurriedly, "As I said before, it is a dream that I had."
The doctor sensed something wrong but didn't say anything to her. She didn't want to make Pankhudi uncomfortable. It was important for the doctor to earn her trust, so that later she could encourage her to be more honest.
"This might be painful for you, but I need to know something. Have you experienced a difficult past?"
"I was not fond of my father. I could never feel love for him. All I know is that I never really felt happy when he was around. He hated mom because she couldn't bear a son. He always cursed me and my sister. He told us we were a burden to him. Mom really loved both of us, but her love was weak before his bitterness." Pankhudi said.
"Did you suffer violence at home?"
"Yes. Dad used to particularly hate me. When he used to come home drunk and start abusing and beating mom, I used to always interfere. I couldn't just stand and watch! That made him angrier. He wouldn't lose one opportunity to yell at me or beat me. He always said I deserved it coz he said I was disobedient girl he was only trying to 'discipline' me. There was so much violence and stress at home! That man was a brute! I was a good student, but he wouldn't let me study. He used to throw away my books, thrash me and always told me that I am worthless. I had almost started believing in it. And I had to live a life full of vulnerability for several years. So many years of living in fear, hiding bruises, welts and an occasional broken bone...we couldn't even speak much without his permission." Pankhudi started crying as she felt the sting of painful memories again.
She paused for a while as she wiped away her tears and continued, "He was the only breadwinner of our family. We all had no choice but to obey him all the time and take his punishments silently. I shouldn't say this, but I was happy when he died. "
The doctor was listening quietly as Pankhudi was speaking.
"Each coin has two sides though," Pankhudi continued, "I can't say whether I was happier then or now. Having a father confers social security. Even though, he was violent, his presence would keep other men from casting a lustful eye on me and my sister. After his death, our life became increasingly insecure. Now we suffer immoral advances from other men at every opportunity they get. I was happy that the violence stopped, but I learned how difficult it is for a girl to face the world on her own. I don't really have a choice; it is a matter of survival now, so I manage to gather some courage. I came here to Mumbai all alone; I am doing a job and studying, trying to rebuild my broken life. But I feel so vulnerable."
"I am really sorry to know that. It must have been very hard to live through all that." said the doctor comforting her, "I am beginning to understand the cause of your problem. I appreciate that you are able to give me details about your past even though it is painful for you. I have a few more questions. Please answer then with equal honesty."
"Alright" Pankhudi said.
"Did you ever indulge in self harm?" the doctor asked.
Pankhudi was silent. Actually she was silent out of hesitation to speak. The doctor sensed it.
"It's ok," the doctor said with a comforting smile, "You can tell me. We are only trying to help you here."
"Yes" Pankhudi gasped, "When no one was watching, I used to cut myself, and sometimes even burn or suffocate myself."
"Why?" the doctor asked calmly.
"I don't know" said Pankhudi. The topic of self harm suddenly made her stop crying. It was like the memories of self harm strangely energized her. "I used to feel good when I did that to myself. It used to feel like some sort of morphine...it caused me pain but that pain felt like it was healing me. It like I wanted to do more and more of it to myself..."
The doctor took as deep breath and looked at Pankhudi who was still lost in some kind of a trance of her memories about her process of 'healing' herself.
"Pankhudi" the doctor said, "I think you are suffering from something we call - Masochistic Personality Disorder."
"This is also known as Self-defeating Personality Disorder." the doctor continued, "When a person develops these patterns in behaviour, the cause can almost always be traced back to early life. If in early life has had to deal with a disciplinarian or a strict authority figure while growing up, and has been constantly told that they do not deserve love or that they deserve to be in pain and should be exploited, then that is exactly what they will grow up to believe. Unfortunately, in your case, this has manifested in the form of that man in your, as you say 'dream'. He is a reflection of the authority figure you subconsciously fear. Because of your condition, you feel submissive towards him and that is why you respond."
