Mrs. Sagar

The mind is such a mysterious thing.

How we sift through the myriad sets of sensory inputs that swarm into us like so many buzzing flies... How we are able to go back in the past through the layers of memory - or move forward into a possible future through the thoughts and plans we sketch out... How our feelings and emotions are mingled with the flux of experiences that we live out...

...and in the end - it works! We sail through our days with myriad thoughts mingled together - choices made - experiences sifted and stored - with literally barely a 'second thought' about it all.

Perhaps this is why mental illness takes on such an ominous note. How to help a person when the shadows of the mind draw their shades? What is the lived experience of a person who is not able to share clearly what is going on in them? Where along the path of healing can we join our friends?

We admitted one of our old HIV positive friends yesterday. Mrs. Sagar's husband died two years ago. They had a small room here in Thane. After his death she sold the place and went back to her ancestral village in Uttar Pradesh. We thought we had seen the last of her. We did not think there was much chance that an HIV positive widow would come back to Thane.

Last week our staff unexpectedly met Mrs. Sagar again. She was lying on the sidewalk near her old room. She was sick. Her two children were on the street with her. Her 2 year old daughter couldn't walk because of a broken bone. It was a pathetic sight.

Mrs. Sagar had come back - hoping that she would get her house back. She said that she would buy it back from those who she sold to. She said that she would get the local political leaders / goons to intervene. She said that her brother would come and visit her. She said many things.

Mrs. Sagar is clearly not in her right mind. How much of this is organic? How much the result of a head-strong desire to follow her own path? How much the product of her own fantasies she is chasing is not clear.

What is clear is that Mrs. Sagar is destitute - and delusional. We are looking after her and her children. The kids are so bright. The little girl is now in a cast - scooting around the floor. The boy is lapping up love. But Mrs. Sagar continues to live in a world of her own. She clearly has TB, but has no place to stay. She needs to be started on ART for her HIV medicines but how can we do that when we are not sure whether she will even stay in one place?

Mrs. Sagar keeps telling us that her brother will come from the village to meet her. How can he do so, when she has no fixed address? What is going on in this dear woman's mind - only her loving Maker knows.

In the meantime, our JSK centre nurses are looking after her with love - while other staff are trying to find out some relative or else to link up with. Would that a church would take this confused widow into their fold. We are left with prayers - both spoken to our Father - and lived out in our actions.