Ashok Rajamani - The Day My Brain Exploded: A True Story

THE DAY MY BRAIN EXPLODED

Ashok Rajamani

ALGONQUIN BOOKS OF CHAPEL HILL 2013

For my mother, Sheila Rajamani,

the strongest person I know

Who are you? said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, II hardly know, Sir, just at presentat least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.

Lewis Carroll

Alices Adventures in Wonderland, 1865

That I exist is a perpetual surprise

which is life.

Rabindranath Tagore

Stray Birds, 1916

Oh my God!

Charo

VH1s The Surreal Life, 2003

Contents

Authors Note

IT HAS BEEN SAID that all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest person to insanity. Theres some truth to this. But the saying is not totally correct.

A bad day, to put it mildly, happened to me over a decade ago: my brain exploded. This was a detonation that affected not only my brain, but how I perceived the world around me. Yet it never reduced me to complete lunacy. Rather, it introduced me to a strength within, complete with the perseverance and dedication to live once again. I have my parents to thank for these qualities; not only did they raise me to be resilient, but also to be proud: proud of my cultural heritage, proud of my family, and proud of myself and my achievements. Fortunately, I got a strong intellect from them as well, along with a determination to succeed. All of that has kept me resolute as I struggled through the events you will learn about in this memoir.

Strength and determination are what I needed to overcome the effects of that day. It also took humor, in part anyway, to diffuse the anger and pain that I felt at what fate had handed me.

I believe that the worst part of this ongoing experience is happily behind me, and that I have a shiny new life to look forward to. True, what I went through was terrible, and true, I wasnt always patient with those around me. But I realize now, looking back, I am one of the luckiest people alive, and in telling my story I am hoping to give a voice to others who were not so fortunate.

Every day, dozens of people suffer from brain injury; many die, and many who live are able to function only at the mercy of devoted caregivers. I, on the other hand, now live on my own, moving among the rest of the world as though there was nothing truly wrong. Able also to write this book so that those who have suffered brain injury can, along with their caregivers, see how important it is to not give up. As I say, I am one of the lucky ones, and so I will spend the rest of this life I have been given in trying to make a difference.

But with a sense of humor, of course; I still cherish my sanity.

Prologue: 2011

My calloused brown feet are hurting, aching in fact, here in Manhattan. Ive just returned from a beginners basic yoga class this afternoon, having walked all the way from that Upper East Side Eastern Spiritual Center back to my apartment downtown. Its a nearly seventy-minute walk, in this August, grade-A city scorcher. Ive become malodorous and soaked with sweat. Being the vain fool that I am, today I chose to wear my weighty black leather shoes with the three-inch heels, rather than a practical pair of sneakers, or even flip-flops. On this boiling summer day, why did I want to add those extra inches of height to my mediocre five foot eight frame? Especially when I had to remove the shoes and be barefoot as soon as class began anyway? Maybe I just wanted to look tall when I entered the center so I could flirt with the instructor.

Before getting into my apartment, I had to walk up six flights of stairs in my elevatorless building. This doesnt make matters any better.

So here I am, wet, smelly, and tired. Turning on the AC to full force and picking up my best buddy, the remote control, off the sofa, I click to find a station worthy of my sticky summer viewing.

Now, I must admit, these days, Im a proud member of geek central. Meaning that my cable television is usually set to two types of programming: news channels with some shows featuring child predators, and science channels.

I decide to watch some nondescript science network. All I see is a black screen with lights flashing in it, set to the beat of some innocuous, gloomy orchestral music. Ive just missed the title credits, so I dont know the exact name of the show, but based on the ominous music, I surmise its one of those random programs about the history of the universe. As soon as I hear a deep, sedate voiceover, I realize Im right. Not sure if Im listening to James Earl Jones or Morgan Freeman or the guy who does the Geico ads. I think its Morgan. The voice explains that, while there are many ideas about how the world was created, this show will be about sciences most accepted theory: the Big Bang Theory. And though this theory has many different angles, Morgan continues, the show will focus on only one thesisthe concept that the Big Bang Theory revolves around one word:

Explosion.

Morgans voice continues to boom. The Big Bang, he explains, was a mammoth explosion that happened billions of years ago, and it all began as a bursting of a primeval fireball. Just listening to that opening sentence of the program leaves me spellbound, so I think Ill be viewing this take on the Big Bang. But even though the theory is not definitively proven, it rings absolutely true to me.

Thats simply because, as sweat-drenched and as exhausted as I might feel at this moment, I can understand a primary truth: it only takes a solitary, single, massive explosion to create a completely new universe.

Cum and Precum: 2000, 1983

Wedding Day Orgasm 2000

Perverted. Masturbating on your older brothers wedding day is perverted, isnt it? Well then, call me a perv. Because thats what I was doing, in my hotel room, a few hours before the ceremony.

March 17, 2000. Twenty-five years old.

The day before, I had flown from New York City to Washington, D.C., where my older brother, Prakash, and his fiance, Karmen, lived, and were to marry. At the time of my spontaneous onanism, the rest of my family was out, playing tourists. My brother Prakash was in the room next to mine, preparing for his big day.

Now, people practice the art of self-love at various times and for just as many reasons. They might be feeling randy or simply utterly bored. In my case, it was the latter. Weddings dont make me feel amorous. And so, I prepared myself for a little diversion. I hadnt yet changed into my formal wedding suit; I was wearing an outfit appropriate for a jerk-off: a ratty eighties Def Leppard tour T-shirt. Nothing else. I set myself to the task, watching my progress in the big mirror over the dresser.

As my solo act came to its usual splashy end, I felt a sudden, massive pop inside my head.

I had jerked off innumerable times before, but this orgasm was different; this orgasm was unnatural.

Something was wrong, horribly wrong.

I felt a fierce explosion in my head.

In a mere instant, the equivalent of an atomic bomb had been detonated within my skull. Between my ears. Behind my eyeballs.

My brain had become Hiroshima.

I suddenly could see nothing as the bomb blasted. It was as if a blindfold, making the world darker than a moonless, starless night, had been tightly bound around my head. Oh my god, I thought. Im fucking blind! Thats what the explosion was. Those rumors about jerking off were right . Had my palms also become hairy?