Journalstone's 2010 Warped Words for Twisted Minds by Compiled by Christopher C. Payne

in my sleep.”
     

 
     
     
Saya
By Chandru Bhojwani
     
     
    Ashok looked at his watch before he turned the page and continued to read the file of his next patient. It was almost 9 p.m., and he hoped his new client would arrive soon.
    “Dr. Virani, your son is on line two,” the secretary informed him via the intercom.
    “Thank you, Monica. You know you can leave. There is no need for you to stay.”
    “I’ll wait for you to finish up, Dr. Thank you.”
    “Are you sure? I can close up myself, you know?”
    “That’s alright, Dr., I don’t mind.”
    Ashok switched lines to speak to his 6-year-old son, Jai.
    “Hello?”
    “Papa, when are you coming home?” Jai squeaked.
    “Soon ,beta, I just have to finish up some work. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
    “Papa, there is a monster in my room! It’s not letting me sleep again,” he sulked.
    “Oh, is that right? It’s back, is it? Alright, I’ll come home soon and take care of that monster, ok?”
    “Promise?”
    “Yes, beta, I promise,” Ashok said, reassuringly. “Let me speak to mummy.”
    Ashok looked at his watch again and then the door, anxiously waiting.
    “Ashok, why aren’t you home yet?” Sonia asked sternly.
    “I’m still waiting for my client.”
    “At this hour? You normally finish up by 6,” she nagged.
    “Yes, but I told you I’d be late today.”
    “This late? Ashok! What kind of psychiatrist stays open at this hour?”
    “Sonia, I have to go, I can’t have this discussion now.”
    His frustration began to take over.
    “Ashok, I’m worried about Jai. He hasn’t been sleeping. His teacher called and said he falls asleep in class. His school work is suffering, and he just looks haggard. I think we need to see a pediatrician.”
    “Sonia, please, can we talk about this when I get home?”
    “Ashok, this is your son, for God’s sake!” she shrieked.
    “Fine!” Ashok screamed back, “I’ll set up an appointment. Ok?”
    “Fine! Your dinner is in the fridge.”
    She slammed the phone down.
    Ashok replaced the receiver and began to pace around his office, trying to get his wife’s irritatingly nagging voice out of his head. Eight years ago, it was the sweetest sound he ever heard uttered. Today, when he hears her call his name, he can feel his blood pressure rising.
    He once again began to wonder why the property billionaire and philanthropist, Rakesh Mehta, sought out his services. And, why would he have requested such a peculiar hour? Ashok was aware of his capabilities, and knew he wasn’t considered a renowned psychiatrist. Yet, this pillar of society wanted to speak with him and only him. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up!
    “Dr. Virani, your client has arrived,” buzzed Monica.
    Reaching over the desk, he pushed the button on the phone and instructed his secretary to let in the most prominent client he’d ever had (and possibly ever would have). Standing upright, he began to straighten his tie. For the first time since he had opened his practice, his hands were clammy, and he did his best to hide his anxiety.
    Rakesh Mehta walked in and immediately, his presence could be felt. A tall, broad man, with thick hair, his aura and charismatic smile could capture a room. Ashok noticed that Mehta was much bigger in person than the papers and magazines suggested.
    “Dr. Virani, thank you for seeing me at this hour,” Mehta strode forward with his hand outstretched.
    “Oh, it’s my pleasure, Mr. Mehta,” responded Ashok, as he tried not to wince when his hand became engulfed in Mehta’s vice-like grip.
    “Please, call me Rakesh.”
    Rakesh released the doctor’s hand, noticing the pained expression sweeping across the doctor’s face. “Unfortunately, my schedule is rather hectic. I apologize for the late hours, but this was the earliest we could meet.”
    They continued the exchange of formalities as they sat down and shared their opinions about the sudden heat wave. Ashok was curious, and