I am not sure why my family had trouble calling acquaintances for help. Perhaps because it was a Sunday and everyone was occupied. I recall that a couple of my childhood friends – we had known each other for nearly fifteen years by then – were out of town. I stopped at a public bench and sat down, feeling like a little girl at the crowded carnival fair who has lost her parents, holding an oversized teddy bear. Except I did not have a teddy bear with me. I began to cry.
An hour or so into the search, my mother called me on my mobile phone. They had found Jan. He had apparently managed to hail a cab and gotten the driver to take him to Simei (he has some favourite shops there). The kindly driver had not been able to get anything other than “Simei” out of my brother. Realising that something was amiss, he had delivered the boy to the police station in Simei.
My father and uncle went ahead to where Jan was. A police car was sent over to pick my mother and myself up. We stopped at a housing block in Simei.
There, a great struggle was taking place. Jan was sprawled on the ground, resisting all attempts to move him. When it became clear that it did not matter the number of men, that they would not be able to take him home if he did not want to go, the station inspector told his men to clear the place.
The station inspector managed my brother alone. He acted with great presence of mind, politely but firmly turning away curious passersby who stopped to watch, and at the same time trying to assuage a furious Jan. This officer, that day, earned my utmost respect for life.
The grown-ups had called for a private ambulance to pick Jan up and sedate him, when my brother decided he was tired of it all and asked to go home. So the ambulance call was cancelled and the police escorted us back.
Jan seemed tired and thoughtful when he reached home. He washed, then sat down to dinner without fuss. I suddenly remembered I had a fever – it had started behaving badly for being ignored – and so I went to bed.
The 2nd Step
Jan got better and the days passed quietly after that. Two years later, however, he grew ill again with fevers and pains. He began refusing all food and drink and stayed in bed, not moving at all and turning quite blue in the face. He also began reacting badly to the different kinds of medication.
With his ill health, Jan once again got aggrieved, though he showed no outward signs of aggression. He again began asking to go for a vacation and to go back to school. Neither of his requests could be met and he plunged deeper into a depressed silence.
It is never easy to get Jan to see a doctor. The family was preparing to call in an ambulance, and bracing for the struggle that was to come in getting him to the hospital.
Before we managed to do that, Jan contrived one morning, while the family was still asleep, to wrench away part of the metal netting and grille-work from the windows in the balcony. He then threw cutlery out the windows.
Imagine our shock when the police came and knocked down our door. I am not mistaking the preposition. They knocked down our door. They later explained that when they had knocked at our door, there had been no answer.
Seeing no one around except my brother, they went after him. Maybe someone yelled, ‘Get him, men!’ before they pounced on him. I do not know. I did not see anything until the ruckus jolted me awake and out of bed, and I bolted to the dining hall. Eight officers were pinning my brother to the floor and cuffing him, as if they had just caught a dangerous criminal.
Some onlookers said to my family, ‘Throwing things out the window, it’s very dangerous.’
Of course it was dangerous.
The first reaction everyone had was, ‘Did anyone get hurt?’ Thankfully, no one had.
I remember my mother standing there and fiercely telling the officers that if they even tapped my brother with a stick, she was going to report them. They assured her that all they wanted to do was subdue him.
Which they did, after a fantastic scuffle. One thing about my brother is, once he knows that he has been outclassed in strength, he will throw in the towel. So they snapped the cuffs on him, marched him out the house, into the lift and down to the police cars that were waiting. What awaited us was another great struggle. Jan was in the worst mood and did not want to get in any of the vehicles.
I hardly think any other cuffed culprit would dare to decline a ride in a police car. Jan however staunchly did, and the officers could have threatened him till kingdom come and all they would have gotten was thirsty.
So they cajoled and persuaded and reasoned with him instead, promising all sorts of games and treats, pointing out the many fascinating gadgets on the dashboard of the police car. Someone had a brainwave and pulled out a fancy mobile phone to show my brother some mini-cartoons. Their tactics worked and we managed to get Jan into the car. I climbed in after him.
Jan had acquired cuts and bruises on his arms and legs from the earlier tussles. We were driven to the nearest general hospital to get him treated.
The 3rd Step
For the first time since I was old enough to manage such incidents, I was at a complete loss. Normally I would put on my battle gear
