“How is she today?” he asked from her parents..
“Fine, she didn’t talk to the walls today”..
“Good” he said, going to her room..



He saw her sitting by the window looking out with a thread in her hand, as if deep in thought. Her psychiatrist knocked on the door and entered with a cheery atmosphere and said “well last appointment…makes me sad…what's going on?"
She kept on staring without answer. He was used to such patients but she somehow seemed different…he looked at the thread on her finger and asked “what's that?”
*No answer*.
He asked again.. on that she answered “this finger” ..
She held out her index finger:



“suppose this finger is me, the segments are the stages of life,child,adult,old age..and this thread…” she held out the thread and said” suppose it is is life now see..” she started to coil the thread on her finger the lower had less turns but the upper tip had more turns..the turns increased with stage. In the end she looked at me and said “it will turn purple,that shows pain and finally death…due to pain”.


He looked at the finger, thought for a while then held out his index finger and said “that’s me” he started to coil the thread in such a way that he had half of the thread on his finger: “we share the pain, now you have less pain” he smiled at her “life is good or in your case less painful if you have people or who care about you and that can make you happy or less purple” on that they laughed..


she thought then said “we can never die..we just change forms, sand then plant then animal then human again and so on…” she uncoiled the thread and said “see? the finger remains…if I can see two of me without a mirror, if I can go to places without moving, if I can see things , which according to most of you don’t exist , the I can surely not get finished.”

“I have a soul in me, when I feel it , I feel supreme power and no worry and when I see my reflection I get scared , because that is my body , which is the devil, which can feel pain…”
he smiled impressed and answered “well I'm going to miss all the philosophy, you have recovered well, now I wont be your psychiatrist, official appointments are over, but as I promised you I will come meet you…unofficially” he winked at her and left.

While he was on his way home he thought “how can a mad person know all this?... maybe they aren’t mad…they are just unique…”