In Treatment s03e01 Episode Script

Sunil - Week One

You gotta give him a chance, Max.
Well, you gotta try harder.
Max, I assure you, he has got blood in his body.
I really doubt that your mother would move in with an actual warlock.
Hi, Kate.
Well, I mean, what do you expect? These things take time.
No, I'm not.
I'm I'm not turning Max against him.
It's the opposite.
Yeah, but you obviously see what you want to see.
That's Jesus.
What? I just wanted to tell you, "Have a good day.
" I guess someone didn't sleep again last night.
Wendy, I'm -Mr.
Sanyal? -Dr.
I'm actually his son, Aaron.
-We spoke on the phone.
-Nice to meet you.
This is my wife, Julia.
Thanks so much for seeing us, Dr.
You're welcome.
So, is your father here? He's outside, smoking.
Sunil? He's just coming.
This way, please.
Well, I have to admit, this situation is a little unusual, because I generally don't meet with a potential patient with the adult children present.
No, we realize it's a little unorthodox.
We really appreciate you making the exception.
Thank you again, Dr.
Sanyal, on the phone, your son told me that you've been going through a tough time.
Is that right? My father is suffering, Dr.
I think the last few weeks have been especially difficult for all of us.
Sanyal, your son mentioned that you've been in New York for For what, four months? -Five.
-Five months.
And that you might be having some trouble adjusting.
Would that be true? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm not going to be of much help unless I can get some more details about the situation.
Would you like me to? -Yeah.
So, lately, Sunil has not been getting out of bed before noon.
He hasn't been eating.
He hasn't showered or shaved in days, and he hasn't actually left the house in, going on, two weeks.
He actually got out of bed at 11:20 today.
How do you know? I called home.
Liza told me.
-Liza is? -She's our nanny.
So your father isn't sleeping and he's not been showering.
He's also been rude to Aaron.
Smoking in the courtyard doesn't count, Baba, okay? -He speaks.
-He speaks beautifully, just not to me.
-And I see that he eats, too.
-Only his candy.
Anything of nutritional value is out of the question.
He's an adult, Julia.
He can eat what he chooses.
Weston, I do not want to come across as the disgruntled daughter-in-law.
I am aware that our current situation would be hard on any family, but I don't think that what we're experiencing is the usual disruption.
The kids have started asking questions.
We are truly concerned for Sunil's well-being.
Have you been living with your son for the full five months? Yes, as I told you over the phone, we brought him over from Calcutta shortly after my mother passed.
Calcutta, that's quite a long way.
Just before Aaron's mother passed, she made him promise that we would bring him to New York.
So, can I ask you if your father's presence in your house has always been this challenging? -At first things may have been easier, but -He seemed functional, at least.
I mean, he was engaged with the children.
He was affectionate with them and ate breakfast with them in the morning.
-They were crazy about him.
-They still are.
I think he scares them now, Aaron.
-Did something happen? -No, it's just a sense I get.
So how old are your children? Sam is six and Naya is four.
There was even a point when Sunil was teaching them Bengali words.
That's not true, Baba.
What's he saying? He said he's no longer allowed to teach them Bengali.
I simply asked you to stop with Sam.
Sam is language delayed and it confuses him.
We had him assessed, and he's not performing at grade level.
I knew we should have come separately, first.
Is there any way that we could continue this conversation without Sunil? Well, actually, no.
If your father-in-law is a potential patient, I don't think it's gonna do anybody any good to dismiss him to the waiting room.
The fact is, Dr.
Weston, that Sunil has become such a shut-in that Aaron now runs errands for him.
He works incredibly long hours, and then he comes home only to have to turn around and go and get his father his candy or his tea or his papers and his tobacco for his cigarettes that he then smokes inside the house.
He doesn't smoke in the house.
I caught him just last night.
The guest room's on the third floor.
It's where Naya and Sam sleep, and I especially don't want him smoking around them.
Neither do you, Aar.
We've really tried to make this transition a pleasant one.
We fixed up the guest room on the third floor.
He has a nice TV, a DVD player, cable.
We even put an orthopedic handrail in the shower for him.
My father has arthritis in his left knee.
So, when it flares up, standing becomes difficult for him.
He used to play cricket, actually.
Professionally? No, recreationally.
Sunil was a math professor.
He used to teach at a prestigious high school in Calcutta.
Yeah, they had him retire early.
They're replacing the older teachers now.
You've obviously undergone a lot of changes, Mr.
And it sounds like you had a pretty full life before.
Is he alone in the house a lot? Well, Aaron and I both go to work every day.
And what do you do for a living? I'm a literary agent.
What did he say? He said he shares the house with the nanny.
She's a lovely person, I might add.
And, occasionally, the housekeeper, too.
And how do you feel about all of this, Mr.
Sanyal? Would you have preferred to have stayed in lndia? I realize that grief is a delicate, complicated process, but it has been six months.
I'm sorry, what is it exactly that you're trying to say? Well, I'm saying it's been a considerable amount of time.
And he's surrounded by his family.
And we're making an effort.
I mean, we truly are.
On the phone, you mentioned that you have been prescribing Effexor for your father.
-That's correct.
-And are you an M.
? -D.
-So you're an osteopath.
The Effexor isn't working.
Psychoactive medication can be very effective, but I do feel that medication should be taken in conjunction with talk therapy.
In Bengali culture, therapy's considered a shameful embarrassment.
It's suitable only for the truly insane.
I prescribed the Effexor because I knew he would resist regular treatment.
Sanyal, do you feel like you're suffering? Do you understand why Julia and Aaron wanted you to come here today? I think he misses my mother.
Can I ask how she died? Complications following heart failure.
There was an emergency procedure and she responded badly to the anesthesia.
And that's been six months, you said? He said, "Six months, one week and two days.
" We were wondering if it would be helpful to Sunil to talk about his loss.
He won't talk to us, but maybe with Are you kidding me? Sunil, you can't smoke in here.
It's rude.
It's his favorite Bengali candy that he gets from the confectionery on Church Avenue.
You mean you get it.
Sanyal, a few minutes ago, Julia mentioned that she felt that your grandchildren were afraid of you.
Do you think there's any truth in that assertion? What did he say? He said, "She's afraid of herself.
" This is what I mean, Dr.
He's become cryptic and cruel.
I didn't want to say anything, but if l Sorry, go on.
He is making me increasingly more uncomfortable in my own home.
-It's true, Aaron.
-For how long? -For a while.
I don't like how he looks at me.
How does he look at you? I don't feel comfortable describing it.
-Where? -Everywhere.
In the kitchen, when we pass each other in the hallway.
He looks at you? Okay, well, I think I'm beginning to get a sense of the situation.
Would you mind if I spent some time alone with Sunil? Yeah, of course.
-Should we settle up now? -We can settle up later.
You can wait in the room outside, if you want.
Or there's a coffee shop on the corner.
-Take some time there.
Back in about a half an hour or so.
Thank you.
-Thank you, Dr.
-You're welcome.
When I was growing up in Calcutta, there was a man in my neighborhood called Bankim.
When he was a boy, his mother died giving birth to his younger brother.
So he was raised by his father and his mother's sister.
His father got killed in an automobile accident.
So he was left with his aunt.
He never left the neighborhood.
Could not attend university.
And when his aunt grew suddenly ill, they were left with nothing.
Years later, as a mature man, he could be found on my street, polishing doorknobs with his mother's sari and his own leavings.
Leavings? Feces.
He was a great embarrassment to the neighborhood for many years.
People used to call him Bankim Pagol.
But what does that mean? Gone.
Crazy, in Bengali.
He wound up taking his own life at Pavlov Mental Hospital.
He hanged himselfwith the same sari he used to polish all the doorknobs.
Where I'm from, this is the type of person who needs psychological treatment.
I think that here, in America, therapy is considered much more commonplace, Mr.
Sanyal, and l Maybe we should think of it just as a conversation between us.
How long have you been smoking? A long time.
Since university.
You know, generally I don't allow my patients to smoke in here, but if it makes you feel more comfortable.
Have you ever smoked? Yes, quite a long time, but I quit a few years ago.
I have to say I still enjoy the smell.
Then thank you for letting me smoke, Dr.
This is one of my few pleasures.
Things are obviously strained between you and your daughter-in-law.
Strained, yes.
So can I ask you why you choose not to speak to her? My son's name is Arun.
Not Aaron.
In Hindi, Arun means "the sun in the sky.
" When did he decide to change his name? When he came here for college.
Aaron is the name of a spoiled child in an American TV show.
That must have been a disappointment to you and your wife, that he changed his name, yeah? I cannot bring myself to call him by this name.
There was a period of time when Julia wanted to call me Soony, Iike a name of a pet.
I'm sure that didn't last long.
She named her daughter after a company that makes bottled water, Naya.
Perhaps their next child will be called iPod.
So, do you hold your son accountable for your granddaughter's name? Sometimes I think it might be possible she is contaminating him.
My son is not what what he used to be.
In what way do you mean? Mr.
Sanyal, is there any reason why your daughter-in-law would feel uncomfortable around you? I cannot imagine it.
When she was trying to describe the way that you look at her See, I have no idea what my face is doing when I'm looking at something.
Okay, that's fair enough.
Well, can you describe what you feel when you pass her in the corridor? I feel like passing her as quickly as possible.
And so I do.
When Julia suggested that your grandchildren were afraid ofyou, you answered that she was afraid of herself.
At least that's how your son translated it.
Is that, in fact, what you said? Yes.
And what did you mean by that? Sometimes one is fearful of what may be an emptiness within.
So one enjoys the affirmation of being bowed to by the nanny, the housekeeper, the man who comes to pull up the weeds in the garden.
Do you think Aaron bows down to Julia? Have you noticed any effects in taking the medication that your son prescribed to you? The pills have no effect.
You're sure about that? I'm positive.
How long has he been prescribing them? For two months.
And you're absolutely certain that they have no effect on you? I'm 100% absolutely, scientifically positive, Dr.
Weston, because I'm actually planting them.
Sorry, what do you mean, you're planting them? I plant them in the soil of the Siroi lily that Julia put in my room before I arrived.
The Siroi lily is the most popular lndian flower.
So you're planting the Effexor pills in the potting soil? It is the most happy flower, Dr.
It's flourishing.
Fortunately for my daughter-in-law's bank account, it does not need therapy.
So does she handle the finances? She handles the therapy, yes.
She also gives me an allowance.
$25 per week plus unlimited metro card.
She's my benevolent provider.
Do you think it's benevolent? I do not trust it.
Is there anybody you do trust? I trusted my wife.
Do you have a wife, Dr.
Weston? No.
No, I don't.
Julia implied that your grieving for your wife hadn't eased in the past six months.
Would you agree with that? Dr.
Weston, my wife and l were married for 30 years.
From the age of 23 until the day she died, I spent practically every day of my life with her.
I do not understand the need to quantify the process of grieving, this need to count the years and months.
I was a math professor, but this is not math.
This is the furthest thing from math.
It is only a feeling.
And sometimes it is only a blankness.
It must be very difficult, the loss of a wife, displacement from your country, feeling trapped in a house that you're not made welcome, where you don't feel you belong.
Whatever makes you say that, Dr.
Weston? I have so many things.
I have my small room, my child's bed, my flat-screen TV, my Siroi lily.
So, there has been a discussion about another child.
So they will eventually turn my room into a baby's room.
And where would you go? Basement, where there's not so much sunlight, so I'll have to leave my poor plant upstairs.
You're not from here either.
No, not originally, but we moved here when I was a kid.
I had an lrish friend in the university.
I recognized the accent.
They are waiting for me.
I'm very glad that you came in today, Mr.
And I just want you to know that I would like to help you in any way that I can.
Perhaps you could write me a prescription that would allow me to return to lndia, where my wife would be alive.
I would walk into my home and greet each other as if I was simply away on a trip.
Then we would have a wonderful dinner, talk about all the things I did and saw while I was away.
And later we would fall asleep with a bright moon glowing softly on the window.
Can you do that, Dr.
Weston? What was your wife's name? Kamala.
It's a beautiful name.
You know, Mr.
Sanyal, I really wish that I could bring Kamala back.
I really do.
When do I return? Well, same time next week would be great.
Thank you for letting me smoke, Dr.
I hope it doesn't offend your other visitors.
I'll open a window.
You know, like I said, I still miss the smell.
Good day, Doctor.
And good day to you.