Aisha Patel’s Story – Taken from the new fictional thriller U Murder U (Suicide)

Why did ten young people wake up one morning and convene at a Central London Hospital to take part in a suicide pact? What possessed them to do this? What possessed them to drink a concoction of stolen hospital drugs mixed with chemicals, the mixture so strong that it dissolved their innards in minutes? They died in so much pain – their dead faces were literally gargoyle in agony as blood oozed out of their orifices. From back blurb of U Murder U (Suicide).

14 year old Aisha Patel was one of the young people at the hospital that morning – this is her story. 

Aisha Patel had a dream – she wanted to study medicine. She was fourteen years old and knew exactly where she wanted to study medicine and what she wanted to specialise in when she finished her basic training. Her paternal grandmother had died of breast cancer last year and Aisha had spent a lot of time with her grandmother before her demise and had seen firsthand how great the Macmillan nurses had been with her grandmother and how the doctors at the hospital had taken good care of her. She told her grandmother of her dream and her grandmother had given Aisha her blessing and told Aisha that she could be whatever she dreamed. When her grandmother had died Aisha felt like a part of her had also died because her parents and three brothers never seemed to have time for her. Being the third child it was easy to get lost and be invisible. In her family boys were valuable and girls were useful (for cooking, cleaning, ironing, washing, usually a lot of domestic things ending in – ing). In her family: The first child, a boy, was a blessing; the second child, another boy another blessing; the third child, a girl; and the fourth child another boy, yet another blessing. Being the third child and a girl – it was easy to stay lost and be invisible.  

   Aisha knew something wasn’t right on the day her father hit her. There had been a lot of whispering prior to that day and each time Aisha stepped into a room her parents and older brothers were in, the whispering voices would get lower and lower until they fizzled out. It showed the amount of regard her family had for her, they didn’t bother to stop whispering, they just made sure she couldn’t hear what was being said and continued. On the day her father hit her, the whispering stopped and the innuendos started –

“Aisha, you must learn to wash clothes by hand now.”

“Aisha, don’t waste food you never know tomorrow.”

She didn’t understand them. She hoped that if her dreams came true and she became a doctor they would like her and maybe be proud of her; she didn’t dare to hope for their love.

On the day her father hit her, one of her aunts had presented her with a silk sari and a gold necklace. She had wondered why as it wasn’t her birthday and she wasn’t aware of any ceremonies that were imminent.

Diary Entry: “My Aunty Mira gave me a sari today with a gold necklace. It’s really pretty and I thanked her with a big hug and kisses. She looked at me sadly and smiled. She told me to be brave. I don’t know why she said that and she wouldn’t tell me what she meant. I like Aunty Mira, she is one of my favourite aunties, she married into our family and isn’t like the rest of them.”

Later that day Aisha understood what her aunt had meant. Her parents called her into the front room and told her that they were taking her to India to get married. They had so little regard for her that they didn’t trick her or lie to her like some parents did to get their daughters on the plane. Those parents told their daughters that they were going to visit granny, or going for a wedding, or going for a relaxing holiday. When they got to India they took their daughter’s passport and married her off.

Aisha’s father (he spoke for the family) simply told her they were tired of looking after her and one day she would eventually leave them and get married anyway so they were hastening the event as they saw no need to procrastinate. Her father liked to use big words when he thought he was talking to little people. Aisha had never refused to do anything her parents had asked her to do in the past but as she saw her dream of studying medicine developing wings and attempting to fly away from her right before her eyes, she spoke out and refused to get married. Her father had hit her – he had never hit her before but then she had never refused to do what she had been told to do before.  

 Aisha had found the suicide chat room by chance on the morning of the suicide pact, which was the day after her father had hit her. When she saw the date and time that the event was to take place she saw it as a sign, an omen sent to save her. She knew her family didn’t love her and never had and she wanted to be with the only person who did, her grandmother. . . . 

 

Author: The statistics are impossible to hide from: each year approximately one million people die from suicide. It is my hope that U Murder U (Suicide) while a fictional thriller, will affect real change and prevent this from continuing to happen.

GLL Publishing the publisher of U Murder U (Suicide) has started a campaign called the Talk To Someone (TTS) Campaign which it hopes will get people talking about issues and not suffer in silence. There are so many charities and medical facilities geared towards helping people see that life is worth living and tomorrow can be better than today!

 

Gladys

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Suicide Part 2

Sometimes I wonder why he didn’t Talk To Someone. They say it’s the people left behind who suffer when you go. They do you know, they really suffer when you go, they constantly ask themselves what they could have done to stop you, what they could have done to change your mind and help you see that everything looks different under different shades of light. A Proverb says – Weeping may endure for the night but Joy comes in the morning. You may think that you have no one to talk to, you are so wrong. Your mother or father, a relative or a friend will ask themselves a number of questions when you die, one of which will be, why didn’t you Talk To Someone?

Some faiths believe that when you kill yourself you go to hell, where you remain for eternity. I believe that there is nothing so bad that you cannot get help to deal with it. To get through the weeping you have to believe that there can be joy, take fifteen minutes and make a list of some of the good things in your life, the people who love you and who you will be leaving behind, heartbroken and shattered.

Recently, there seems to be one story or another in the newspapers about someone killing themselves every week. As a daughter, a mother, a sister, an aunt, a niece and a friend, if there is one thing I can say to make you change your mind about killing yourself it is this – Talk To Someone, don’t suffer alone – I say this in the voice of your mother, father, sister, brother and friend. You can get through whatever situation you’re in, talk through the pain, let that be your release – committing suicide is like saying to hell with the life you’ve been given because nothing will ever change but change happens when you do things differently. There are people who love you and they are the ones who will suffer when you kill yourself so don’t do it! Tomorrow is whatever you make it . . . you have the power of choice . . . choose life!

Anna Lee Lewis and Dr Peter Durojaiye Lewis founded Talk To Someone years ago to save lives so don’t suffer in silence – Talk To Someone!

TALK TO SOMEONE!

 

U Murder U (Suicide)

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Suicide: One Million People, Mostly Teenagers, Die Each Year

Most people will know someone who committed suicide or know someone who knows someone.

I do.

When I finished my MSc in Medical Microbiology at university I got a job in a renowned London hospital’s microbiology laboratory and it was there that I met him. He wasn’t that tall and was balding, slightly built and told me once that he bought some of his trousers in the children’s section of clothing shops. He took me under his wing and taught me the difference between studying Medical Microbiology and working in a laboratory where I could put my theory into practice. He used to wind me up by calling me ‘Gladiola’ instead of Gladys – he told me it was the name of a beautiful flower and I believed him (we didn’t have Google back then for me to check if it was true or not).

I worked with him for nearly seven years; two of those years were spent on maternity leave having my children. When I went back to work each time he brought me up to speed and made sure that I was okay with all the new methods.

The things I remember most are his willingness to always help me when I needed help at work, how when we had a misunderstanding I would frown at him, and he would frown in return then things would somehow go back to normal.

Once, I identified something in a patient’s sample; something that was quite rare and he confirmed what it was then got everyone’s attention and made everyone aware that I had found it and he heaped so much praise on me that I was really chuffed.

I don’t know why he decided to take his own life, I don’t know what was going on in his mind, what led to things happening the way they did. I do know that even now, even fifteen years after the event, I still miss him. I named one of the male characters in my first novel after him and while I was writing it, it was as if he was still alive.

To Be Continued . . . .

Taken from U Murder U (Suicide) by Gladys Lawson

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