My meeting with the God of 5 minutes did not happen by chance. There were events that led me to experience that meeting of awakening, the events that started in my school days.
The only fond memory I have of my school days are the many dance performances I gave and the awards that I won for the same. And generally, though, I was an all-rounder minus my poor singing skills. Now it may seem like why would such a kid call these reasons as the only good things from her most crucial phase of life?
It is because, within that gigantic school campus, thrived an uptight air of freak competition. It made me do all things that I shouldn’t have done. Thankfully, I got back to my true self after I passed out.
It is the madness of horses running aimlessly that brings about mayhem on the road. It is the beauty of the firecrackers in the sky that ends up deafening and choking us on the land.
And I had stayed strong and beautiful for far too long in the mad race. My only fault? I was being strong for reasons which did not really need my time and energy back then. And the accident? It came in the face of clinical depression at a young age of 15.
I used to make sketches of a person hanging from the fan.
I used to cry over my deteriorating grades and rejection from stage performances
Went from a happy heroine to a tragedy queen of a fairytale love story, broke and tore objects, screamed in the voice that still shakes me up each time my mind trails off to those dark past days.
It was not until I told about my rapidly changing behaviour to my cousin (my confidante back then), that IÂ realized the harsh reality I had been surviving with.
The journey that began from my parents’ room (where I told them about it), passed through Mr. Tambi’s (psychiatrist) clinic and continued for a month-long duration with me lying in sedation on my bed. It was one of the most hard-hitting times I never knew I would be living.
Strangely though, even after a month of staying drugged, that unexplained heaviness in my head did not go away. I still used to cry and crash things, albeit at a lesser frequency.
So this time, my parents took me to one of the most renowned neurologists in the city. Whilst I was there, I was taking a stroll outside the doctor’s clinic. It was a long wait for my turn. And suddenly I heard a familiar squeaky voice call out my name. It was a classmate of mine. We were not friends exactly, but when she asked me what I was doing there, I had no problem in letting it all out. I even told her about my previous meeting with a psychiatrist.
Flowers gave up on blooming, new born babies started to question their arrival in this otherwise beautiful life, I started to question what I had been studying into when she remarked…
“ab tu pagal bhi ho gayi kya” (now, you have turned mad also!)
I was hurt.
But not as much yet.
With that stubborn lump soaked in tears lodged in my throat, I told my doctor about the strange weight on my head. I even told him about my round with anti-depressants. He said,
“What’s there for you kids to worry about? Depression at such a young age! Ridiculous.”
But, I liked him a little (okay, a lot) when he said, “Do you like dancing? I can see it in your face, you should resume dancing.”
I was in a state where a slightest of appreciation from someone made me feel like I found my God. So when he said those words, I got all emotional and told him about the incident with my classmate that had happened just a few minutes ago. (Just how those devotees vent their miseries before idols in temples)
But,
The frail touch-me-not(s) that had found hope for a second withdrew themselves in their comfort zone again, the new-born kids cried harder this time, I realized that no matter how much old you grow by following the written word, the brain does what you want it to; when he said…
“You are a mad girl to have told your friend about it. Why did you tell her? You should not tell anyone about this.”
And that was him, my God of 5 minutes, who in spite of saying things that disturbed me more than ever before, helped me realize something important.
I can’t deny that…
I was enraged,
I could not believe the words he had just said,
Thoughts like, “He is a doctor! How can he of all people in this world think like that!” started to play ping pong in my head.
The heaviness in my head now had the added weight of society’s ill-beliefs
But,
Suddenly a strange thought occurred to me.
Burying my anger deep inside, I forced out a smile. The smile of anguish. I resolved to myself that I would bring about a change in the perspective of those who consider depression as a thing of shame. I did not have the how-to plan ready in my head, but I sure knew what my end goal was. I wanted to reach out to those who cry themselves to sleep every night (or, are probably crying themselves to sleep right now). I just wanted to reach them in any which way I could to let them know that among the sea of the mockers of depression, there are those who care.
Because:
And,
The world turning their backs towards them when they need that ray of hope the most is the most excruciating pain they can ever feel.
That pain is fatal.