The Prison of the Mind

So now… 2016, I have tried to analyse the points of my breakdown. I can remember vividly being in a police cell and going into a frenzied panic attack.

I was banging the door, constantly pressing the alarm button, jumping around, shouting and swearing, probably to the police this was just another lunatic and they had seen it all before so ignored me. I felt like I was losing myself. My body felt like it was burning up and the clamming up and shortness of breath that I get when having a panic attack was unbearable. I would try and lay on the hard bed, drink water, exercise, just sit…anything! but I just kept getting worse and worse.


As discussed before when you have a mental breakdown you feel like you have made a cross dimensional jump, in that you lose track of real time and the counter of minutes and seconds have no value. What is an hour… can seem like a day and what is  day can seem like a lifetime. I was again locked in my mind and it had occurred while I was in police custody and I felt like I was running along a timeline of past, present and future visiting different intervals in this alternative and scary paradox in my mind.


One memory which seems to stay with me vividly was that I was inside this cell but at the same time I was in a multiple block of cells which all the members of my family were being held and interrogated in. They were being violently tortured and held in this prison because the were connected to me. I could here doors opening and closing and keys jangling as someone came close to the cell and then I would feel they have just captured another member of my family and that they are coming closer to me. This is one of the most frightening scenarios you could imagine… I could hear loved ones screaming in pain. At one point I could hear my youngest son screaming for his life and at the same time I could hear more of my family members in constant pain. Imagine a long line of cells each including a loved one, each being put through the worst pain you could imagine. I actually just wanted to escape this place and could not bear any more so I remember punching myself trying to knock myself out so I would not have to take this unbearable pain anymore.


This fictitious memory is still so vivid and I was present in the sum of all my fears and there was no escape. I remember knocking myself out and then waking back up, I was not sure how much time had passed it may have been seconds, minutes or hours… I would love to know. I screamed ‘Waheguru’ the meditation chant of Sikhs and I remember feeling very deep in my own soul. I remembered that Guru Gobind Singh Ji had to witness the capture and killing of his own family including his sons and I could feel his pain and that surely now only faith could get me through hell. I could picture the massacres of the war and the mass genocide of the Sikhs by the moguls. I could see everything, old ladies crying over the bodies of the loved ones returning from war and then I could see two of his sons being sealed behind brick walls just as the stories I was told when I was a child. This was my spiritual awakening!


I began chanting bola son haal! sas siri akaal…. this chant I had heard at my late aunts funeral just before the body is cremated. It as if we welcome the person to the after life as they are passed from this physical life. I continued to chant this louder and louder and felt that my relatives could hear me in the surrounding cells and that there was hope. Slowly I could feel the doors were opening and people were being released. I could hear my younger sister who lives in Australia walking along the corridor telling someone to release this person next and this person next so I started banging the door shouting ‘Raj, Raj’ its me… I am in here’ but she could not hear me. I then peered under the door of the cell and tried to shout through there, I could see some shoes and the corridor but could not see her. It was the faith in God that was giving me a glimmer of hope I could escape this mental prison.



I imagine the whole night had passed in the police cell but when the door finally opened and the policeman came to get me, to me it was as if a whole life time had passed. I still felt untrusting and paranoid of everyone around me as I was still in the untrue version of my family being held captive. I thought my children were in danger and felt that this real world was still the virtual reality which I have been describing. I did not get told where I was being taken but I remember a policeman saying to me that you are being transferred to somewhere else. This frightened me and as I was being walked out of the police station by eight officers towards the police van, I remember making a mad dash and trying to get away. They were not bad to me, but I was in a state of despair worried for my children and felt I could not trust anybody around me as they were secretly plotting against me. This was the paranoia that existed now and this was also very hard to bear as it meant I was still in hell and only my faith in God allowed me to exist for a period longer here. I was quickly pinned down and then placed into the police van. I quickly calmed down and I was transported to a secure mental hospital.








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