Care that Isn't Prescribed

Inside the locked gates of the psychiatric ward in this public hospital, life unfolds around routines. From strict meal timings to mandated medications and fixed time for activities, the in-between moments where people sit beside each other, exchange stories, and joke around often go unnoticed. Their unique ways of surviving the monotonous institutionalised life serve as a reminder that life exists beyond the labels of diagnosis, endless routines, and continuous monitoring.

In the female ward, I witness a mother caressing her daughter’s head, an attendant braiding the woman’s hair that she has been assigned to care for, and the grandmother of a service user talking to another service user, telling her, “Time aane se tumko bhi ghar jaane denge yeh log.”

On a different floor, the male ward sounds silent compared to the bustling female ward. In the male ward, men mostly keep to themselves, yet their companionship becomes evident in moments of teasing, playing, and joking.

Play and Companionship

In the male ward, care is hidden behind four men playing ludo together and cracking jokes with Mohan, who often remains silent and rarely talks to anyone. In a moment of crackling laughter, a small smile appears briefly on his face – an indicator that he is present with his companions in the game. Similarly, Suraj, who keeps to himself and spends his time walking around the corridor, smiling and mumbling to himself, pauses to witness his father play carrom with Ahmed. The father says, “Did you see my shot?” The son nods, smiles, and continues walking.

Lunch arrives around 12 PM, and all games must be kept back in an organised manner. Someone folds the Ludo board, collects the coins and puts it back in place, whereas someone else helps another pick up the heavy carrom board. Later, they together fold back the mat on which they were sitting on the corridor’s floor, put on their chappals and go to collect their vessels for lunch. After lunch, everyone takes their medications and returns to their usual rhythm of keeping to themselves, lying down in their beds, or walking around the corridor. It is interesting to see how play brings them together in an isolated and restricted space.

Storytelling and Presence

During evenings, before lights go out, everyone in the female ward gathers around Chandni’s bed. Her grandmother, who is staying with her at the hospital, used to tell Chandni bedtime stories. Slowly, it became a ward ritual, with everyone gathering to hear the stories.

Stories are how women in the ward connected with each other. I saw them exchange stories of first loves, dreams of studying and going places, as well as their suffering, the injustices they have experienced, and their shared grief. Grief of being left behind, being violated, being treated differently, and feeling unwanted.

When a person cries, people gather around to soothe them. When someone refuses to eat food, they all encourage them to eat. When someone worries about not getting the chance to go back home, reassurance comes easily from another bed. Presence in the women’s ward roams around freely, moving from one bed to the next through words, stories, and soothing touches.

Care that Isn’t Documented

These everyday forms of care, evident in the ward through quiet companionship and presence, remain invisible to the clinical eye. They are not documented in case files or reflected in treatment plans. Yet, they shape how people survive long days inside the ward.

Between routines, medications, and monitoring, care continues to circulate, held in stories, play, touch, and the simple act of staying with one another.