It's been a few days since the hospital visit, and my mother is acting strangely. She keeps fighting with everyone. The other day, she had a huge argument with my big sister and said many mean things to her. Today, she fought with my aunt. This isn't like her at all. The mother I know never fights and always speaks calmly, comforting me when I've done something wrong. I've hardly seen her angry my whole life. But now, she's different. I hope everything will be fine.
At night, I tried talking to her. She told me she didn't know why she fought with my aunt or why she said those things. I urged her to stay calm and relaxed.
The next day, she fought with my aunt again, shouting and making a scene. She seems fine at night but keeps fighting with everyone in the morning. She stares at sharp objects and tries to hurt herself, which has my father very worried.
My dad and I took her to Dimapur city for a checkup. The hospital said she was fine, but she continued behaving erratically, mumbling to herself.
We decided to visit my mother's relatives in Assam for her treatment. Since medical tests showed nothing wrong, we checked for spiritual reasons. We took a six-hour trip to a monk's place. The monk prayed for her and said she was fine. He also prayed for me and did a fortune-telling, mentioning that at 21 and 23, I'd face separation from someone. I thought nothing of it and we headed back to my mother's relatives' house.
We took a train on the same day, another six-hour journey. The seats were tight and uncomfortable, but the worst part was my mom screaming the entire time because she was terrified of the train's loud sounds. Luckily, my aunt was there to take care of her, but this was the worst train trip of our lives. I doubt I'd ever want to travel by train again.
It's been a week since we arrived at my aunt's place in Assam, and my mother's condition hasn't improved. We're really worried about her, but my father is having the hardest time. He stays with her every moment to ensure she doesn't do anything dangerous. Combined with the hot weather, it's a difficult time.
Today, my father and my aunt were discussing something. Although I didn't understand most of it, they talked about going to my cousin's place, where a spiritual warrior lived nearby. He might be able to help my mother. We decided to go the same day. We hired a car and prepared to leave, but my mom refused to go, saying she didn't want to sit in the car. My aunt suggested it might be because the spirit inside her knew where we were headed and resisted.
We had to force her into the car. She screamed and called my name for help. I felt so helpless and confused about what to do. Seeing her like this was depressing.
After a while, we reached my cousin's place. We learned the spiritual warrior was away and wouldn't return for some weeks, so we decided to stay until he came back. My mom's condition worsened. She shouted every day, picked fights with everyone, talked to herself, refused to eat, and didn't sleep. Every morning at 5 am, she started shouting. My father looked after her day and night, barely getting any rest. During the day, I stayed with her outside so he could sleep. She kept insisting on going outside, but I never let her. Things were becoming increasingly difficult, and my worries seemed endless.
Finally, the day came when the spiritual warrior arrived. The moment he entered, my mother became aggressive. We struggled to hold her down as he performed some prayers. He told us she was possessed by a named witch, known to be very powerful. He said an exorcism was necessary to rid her of the spirit, which required preparations and waiting for the right day.
As days passed, my mother's aggression escalated alarmingly. One evening, her behavior reached a new level of violence. She suddenly began shouting at my aunt, hurling threats and pursuing her with a menacing determination. My aunt fled and took refuge in the room I was in, trying to escape the chaos. Meanwhile, my mother, wielding what looked like a branch, began striking the ground and calling out for my aunt, her voice filled with rage and desperation.
My father, disturbed by the noise, rushed in. He grabbed the branch from her hands, threw it aside, and escorted her out of the room, trying to calm her. Watching this unfold, I was overwhelmed with confusion and fear. Was this a mental breakdown, or was something more sinister at play? The sudden shift in my mother's behavior was baffling. She had always been gentle and caring, and there was no apparent cause for such a drastic change.
Feeling helpless, I chose to trust the adults around me, clinging to the hope that she would recover. My heart ached seeing her like this, so far from the loving mother I knew.
The following day, another incident shattered any remaining sense of stability. My mother vanished from the house without anyone noticing. We had thought the wooden barrier we placed at the gate would keep her inside, but it wasn't enough. When my father went to bathe, she slipped out. The news hit me like a thunderclap while I was in my room. I rushed outside, joining my father and the rest of the family in a frantic search.
After what felt like an eternity, a stranger ran up to us, breathless and urgent. He told us they had found my mother near the lake. My father and I hurried to the location he pointed out. There she was, standing by the water's edge. My father's shout pierced the air, and she turned to face us, her silence deeply unsettling. Her calmness was as rare as it was frightening.
We were immensely relieved to have found her before any harm came to her. When we asked why she had gone to the lake, she spoke of a calling she felt, a haunting pull that led her there. It wasn't until later that we learned of the haunted place upstream from the lake, and a chill ran down our spines. We were fortunate to have found her in time.
In the wake of these events, my father, mother, and I began taking evening walks. It was an attempt to provide my mother with some exercise and perhaps a small semblance of normalcy in the midst of the turmoil.
Three days later, the time for the exorcism finally arrived. That evening, as I was tending to Mom while Dad was resting, she suddenly asked about the bag of red chilies in the kitchen. Her tone was anxious as she inquired, "These chilies, they're trying to use them on me, right?" I tried to calm her, saying it was just for cooking. Despite my reassurance, she remained suspicious and unsettled. I took her outside for some fresh air, hoping it would help.
When the exorcism began that night, I was horrified to see the chilies being used in the ritual. They were burned in a fire, producing a dense, black smoke so pungent it made my eyes tear up. The spiritual warrior forced Mom to inhale the smoke directly, but she seemed impervious. She laughed maniacally, shouting incoherent phrases, and showed no sign of distress. The atmosphere was heavy with desperation and fear.
The ritual started at 11 PM and continued until 2 AM. Despite the intensity of the prayers and the burning chilies, Mom's behavior remained erratic. She threatened the spiritual warrior, screamed my name, and demanded that I come to her. Each call she made to me deepened my sense of helplessness. I felt utterly helpless, my heart breaking with each anguished cry. I sat by the gate, feeling the weight of my helplessness as I watched the scene unfold from afar, a part of me shattering with every moment.
Amid this turmoil, Tsula's message arrived: "Hi." I saw the text and used it as a distraction, responding in a bid to escape my anguish. Tsula's voice note asked how I was doing. I replied with a voice note of my own, trying to sound cheerful. Yet Tsula's next text, "What's wrong?" cut through my pretense. Her insight was uncanny—she could tell I was hiding something.
Her next message, "No, you sound sad. What's wrong?" struck me deeply. I was taken aback by her perceptiveness. Though I had trouble opening up, I shared a bit about my mom's worsening condition and my feelings of helplessness. Tsula's genuine concern was a lifeline. Despite her lack of experience in comforting others, she provided heartfelt support, helping me endure the emotional strain.
The exorcism dragged on for four grueling hours but ultimately failed. The relentless spirit refused to leave, forcing the ritual to end for Mom's safety. When we were finally allowed to see her, the sight was heart-wrenching. Mom lay on the bed, agitated and disoriented. I lay next to her, holding her tightly, whispering my deepest wishes for her recovery. "Please come back to your senses," I begged softly, "That's all I ask. I just want you to be okay. I would never want anything else." Mom's mumblings about harming others and her disconnection from reality shattered me.
As I clung to her, I found myself praying fervently, despite my usual skepticism about faith. I prayed for Mom's healing, for her to return to the person she once was. As I drifted off to sleep, my body trembled with the weight of the situation.
Days passed, and Mom's condition deteriorated further. She began to forget me, a painful reminder of her declining state. It was an incredibly hard time, with Tsula being the only person who consistently offered support and understanding. Her presence was a small but vital beacon of hope amid the overwhelming darkness.