The way we react to news—do we ever bow down to the events in our own lives with the same intensity? Take the #DepressionKills wave that gripped us after Sushant’s passing at the start of the lockdown. But, have I truly stood by the people closest to me battling depression? I think about these things now! I used to think about them even before, during all those ambitious lockdown plans. Now, surrendering to these failed plans, I find myself reflecting. I analyze myself, assess my body’s weight loss, my mind’s thickening fog.
Today, I sat down to ponder what I’ve lost in the last few months: a pair of sunglasses, an umbrella, a few books, a laptop, quite a bit of money, bed linens, a pillow, dreams, the notion of friendships with certain people, and countless days. Sometimes, I even lost myself. I lost words, lost the ability to write, lost my language. I lost my friendship with sparrows long ago, and now I’ve even lost the memory of it. Lost my real identity in the jungle of jargon—abuser, opportunist, and so on. I lost a whole year, 2020, for complaints.
This one-sided thought is quite harmful, the counselor would frown. I should also think in reverse. So, what did I gain? Plenty of free time, empty space—so much that I tangled myself up more than organizing. I gained restlessness, irritability, suffocation, and a stubborn urge to make mistakes. An understanding of my instincts. And many misunderstandings with many people.
Beyond all these misunderstandings, I now see that each of us wants others to understand us as we are. Yet we’re each trapped in our own perceptions. Expression has become the main thing. We express as we like and expect others to just understand. Take me, for example—I avoid counseling, thinking I can save ₹1,200, but end up wasting ₹12,000 and losing precious emotions. I hurt the person I love the most in ways it’s hard to come back from. Why? Because I want them to understand me as I am, and when they don’t, it sparks sibling-like squabbles of expectations.
Maybe this piece is getting boring, loaded with redundant words. Giving advice is part of my nature, but since my blog is named Antarglani Sansarbhara (“Inner Guilt, Burdens of Life”), I’m trying to understand that burden a bit. After ruining so much, I’ve come to feel that communication is often one-sided; words get stuck at one end like a jam near Gate 2.5 at the airport. By the time the message reaches its destination, it’s too late, like old evening news. The person I meant to apologize to in the afternoon is now doubly angry. These are the unexpected delays in life. We go to psychologists to patch things up, but what’s lost is lost forever.
Those of us who have truly sabotaged ourselves, leave us aside. For those who haven’t yet, take this request—try to catch yourself now. I’m lucky that despite everything, there’s someone I love who still embraces me, forgiving my mistakes. Not everyone has that fortune. This person has given me the courage to climb out of a deep depression. You may not be as privileged. Acknowledging this illness doesn’t make us smaller; regular self-reflection, counseling, and medication can gift us a better life. Depression and misunderstanding were luxurious words in my childhood, now they’re main course items on the buffet. As someone said, “Even though all flowers are enchanting, people love the smell of cooking meat the most.” I’ve found my own ancient proverb for happiness. Remember, searching is an eternal process, but don’t lose the philosopher’s stone for the sake of the journey.
No doubts. Believe!