'Help me, brother, I'm going to be killed.'

Ah, Sunil brother, the cool and beauty of the herb garden were not enough to keep the demons from you. Again you tried to take your life. You drank rat poison and after we'd had your stomach pumped, you rang the bastard who through his tears is writing this and said, 'Hey guess what, it tasted sweet!'

Dear Sunil, we did our best to get help for you, but there was little help to be had. Although some 60,000 Bhopal survivors suffer from depression, anxiety, memory loss, panic attacks, insomnia and a host of other psychological afflictions, the government refuses to accept mental health problems as a consequence of the gas disaster. People with mental problems get no compensation or treatment, in fact they are ridiculed and dismissed. Today, in all Bhopal's hospitals, there is only one part-time psychiatric consultant.

Sunil, when you were still a child, you told a journalist that those responsible for the death and suffering in Bhopal should be hanged. Never have they even been brought to trial and in the end, the person who was hanged was you. We found you in your flat, dangling from the ceiling fan. You left a note saying that when you made the decision to end your life you were completely in your senses. You had bathed and dressed in clean clothes. You, who rarely wore t-shirts, had put one on especially for this final farewell. It said NO MORE BHOPALS.

Sunil, we take this as a message from you to the uncaring world. We think you wanted people to know how horror, illness and grief continue to ruin lives in this city, twenty-two years after the night of terror.

If you were still alive, we could tell you that on September 27, 2006 your friends all over the world will plant trees in your memory. The trees will grow and flower for you all over India, all over Asia, in Africa, in the UK, France, in USA and many other places. We are planting two trees for you: one next to the people’s museum on the disaster “Yaad – e- Haadasaa” which you inaugurated in December 2005 and one in the Sambhavna herbal garden where you volunteered, but not too near the cobra's hole.

Also we could tell you that the Sambhavna Trust Clinic will open a new mental health department with full-time counsellors and psychiatrists, so that others will never again have as little help as you had.

Sunil, you thought you were mad, but a world without justice is madder. At least you are now safe. We scattered your ashes in the flooded Narmada river, and for your funeral feast we followed your precise instructions: quarter bottle of Goa brand whisky, mutton curry from Dulare's hotel near the bus stand, betel nut, tobacco and all. Were you there with us? If not, who was it that in the darkness chuckled, 'I am no longer afraid of being killed – I am already dead and fearless.'

Please plant a tree in memory of Sunil on September 27, 2006.

I wish I had A River

Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it dont snow here
It stays pretty green
Im going to make a lot of money
Then Im going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly

!!

"I like you bitter and pissed off, you're almost like a real person now"

Umm..

"Maybe getting over someone you're in love with isn't impossible. Unless, maybe you don't actually get over it. Maybe you just learn to live with it."

Ruminations - Part 12

Communication. It's the first thing we really learn in life. Funny thing is, once we grow up, learn our words and really start talking the harder it becomes to know what to say. Or how to ask for what we really need.

How do you know when how much is too much? Too much too soon. Too much information. Too much fun. Too much love. Too much to ask... And when is it all just too much to bear?