As a teenager, I was once told by a friend that she didn’t want to be seen hanging out with or sharing space with me, because it would be bad for her reputation in college. I didn’t know back then what stigma really meant, but I understood much later that it did stick to her heart.

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There are likely two kinds of psychiatrists: Those who look at the person beyond the DSM 6, at their personhood and experiences, and those who still reside in the shadows of DSM-2, and practice conversion therapy (a discredited and pseudoscientific practice of trying to change a person’s gender identity to cisgender or sexual orientation to heterosexual)

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It is under the quilt that a lot of ruminating happens. The weight and the softness bring comfort to the otherwise spiralling and spinning mind. UNESCO proclaimed the “Mevlevi Sema Ceremony” (whirling Dervishes who take part in it) of Turkey as one of the Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity in 2005. I wonder if Rumi’s meditative whirling has anything to do with spinning as a form of stimming that many neurodivergent folks practice. Although whirling in a Sema ceremony has specific cultural significance and requires training to maintain balance in the vestibular system, and stimming is more spontaneous, both of these acts and practices have a profound effect on the bodymind.

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Daydreams become a way to trick your bodymind into not letting spiralling thoughts take over your day, week, month, etc. Spiralling daydreams are slightly better. The orthopaedic asked me to wear footwear with proper support and to absolutely not run or jog, maybe that’s why I am always running (away from) in my dreams, and somehow my quilt is on the floor. But bodymind did what it needed to do. And there are tears and bends, and now (maybe) it is on the mend. And that is why I sew, bringing the tears (to/too) close. My quilt is a whirlpool of tears, tears that are wet and tears that are stretched. Maybe I like thread so much because when the knots, loops, and spirals of thread unravel, spin, and come undone, they become something else after passing through my hands.

1. Sticky Stigma
   Off-white crocheted cotton yarn on a metal frame
   
   – The word stigma comes from Latin and Greek origins, meaning “to brand or scar with an iron tattoo with an instrument”
   
   – The stigma is the sticky top part of a flower’s pistil that catches pollen
   
   The relationship between mental illnesses and the stigma it carries is fairly well understood and experienced by many of us. However, some conditions carry more stigma than others. Anxiety might be seen as benign, but psychosis, not so much. Escitalopram is okay, but haloperidol, not so much. 
   
   
2. Doom-mood stabilizer
   Circular swivel stool with castors, digital print on fabric and DSM 6
   
   It is interesting how operative principles of stigma are revealed to you when you are desperate for some respite. Your pain and distress, when named, become something that disqualifies you from possible betterment. So I wonder what these different systems of care actually stabilise or desTABLEise? 
   
   
3. RUMInating
   Machine and hand-sewn quilt
   
   The whirling Dervishes were founded by mystic poet Rumi in the 13th century. The wide, white skirt (or tannoura) worn by the whirling dervishes represents the ego’s shroud. The dervish holds the right hand open and facing upward to receive divine grace, while the left hand is turned downward toward the earth to pass that grace on to humanity. The Khirkee masjid nearby has a quiet, calming quality, and its architecture is porous, letting you see the sky from inside while standing on the ground. 
   
   
4. Work seat (Please sit down)
   Circular seating with digital print on fabric
   
   The latest DSM-5, or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, mentions the word ‘work’ about 400 times. Mental and physical abilities of a person are diagnosed (or rehabilitated) based on one’s capacity and ability to produce work. Incidentally, the rise of mental institutions (or mad houses or lunatic asylums) arrived with the capitalist economic system during the late colonial period. Here, the seat holds the pressure of productivity & perfection, and the reality of body minds that do not conform to it. The spiralling words have been taken from the words that accompany the word work in the DSM-5. You are welcome to lie down on the work seat. 
   
   
5. Tired Tops
   Channapatna finger top with text on the underside
   
   ‘What is the distance between sanity and insanity?’
   I wrote this on a piece of paper and stuck it to the wall in my studio, thinking I might find an answer to it in the next few weeks. The graphics on the box of my medication show two spinning tops, and it is called Inspiral. I have wondered for many years whether it is In-Spiral, Inspire-All, or something else. Turns out it is just simply Inspiral. It is only when I wrote these pairs of words on the spinning tops that I began to see the distance between them…. You are welcome to try spinning them bottom-up and placing them back in the pile.
   
   
6. Psych ward graffiti by Abby Silversmith
   Red lipstick named Red Alert on the wall
   
   This is a reproduction of lipstick graffiti created by Abby in one of the major psych wards of a public hospital in Delhi. This hospital refused Abby treatment after her request was labelled as drug-seeking behaviour, while having a record of previous treatments in a psych ward in a different city. Stigma still sticks in places where one of the most stigmatised groups of people comes seeking healthcare. 
   
   A Mad Transsexual Witchspell by Abby Silversmith
   Acrylic marker on black-tinted glass
   
   The poem “A Mad Transsexual Witchspell” is from a larger series of poems titled “I Keep Sitting in the Madhouse and Yearning For,” written by poet and musician Abby Silversmith. She reflects from a mad transsexual epistemology, presenting questions in the hope of some light(ness) in an otherwise very lightless world. Her work also looks at the constant push and pull between madness and transsexuality, both of which have a very complex and complicated relationship with psychiatry. 
   

Studio Assistance by Dron Chandwani

Accompanied by works by dearest Abby Silversmith Irfan

I would like to extend my gratitude to the Khoj team and to CAMHRA at SOAS for conceptualising this residency format. I am grateful to Pooja Sood, Gulmehar Dhillon, Priyal Nahata, Sameera Sardana, Dr Bhrigupati Singh, Nora Wuttke, Jeebesh Bagchi, and my interlocutor, Dr Kavita Arora, for their critiques, support, and thoughtful input. I would like to thank my wonderful residency cohort – Weng-io Wong, Luisa Hansal and Tan Tan for the conversations and all the time spent together sharing food, thoughts and epiphanies.

This residency wouldn’t have been possible without the support of the Khoj team members, who made sure that things were moving smoothly and remained as accessible and simple as possible. My special thanks to Govind Bhandari, Pancham Kerketta, Manoj VP, Lokesh ji,  Rajesh ji, Karma Oraon, Phoolamata ji, Niramala ji, Arun Chettri and everyone who has had a part to play in everything coming together. As someone who talks too much, I am happy to have had health, disability, archives, and random design education yapping sessions with Gauri Pathak, Zanskar Chaudhari, Savli Divekar and Arpit Kaur.

I would like to thank my psychiatrist, therapist, friends and family for making sure that I remain grounded in my (lack of) sanity. Lastly, I would like to thank Priyanka D’Souza and Merina Joseph for always being close and keeping me sharp.