THE DEPRESSION JOURNEY

Continued…..

PART II

     Needless to say, I could not bring myself to visit that doctor again, nor could I bring myself to visit another for a long time, prolonging my agony.

   A dear friend and a genuine well wisher, gave me the reference of a renowned psychiatrist based at Mumbai. He even arranged a meeting. To be heard...heard and heard is all that a patient of depression wants. A reassuring smile and patience are the two best healing touches for the sick and suffering. My desperation to ease me out of the mental agony drew me to Mumbai, a city I had never visited before. It took me some confidence to believe that a one-room clinic in the heart of Mumbai could be the parlour of one of the best mind readers in the country. The moment I entered her chamber, I could feel a sense of peaceful calm descending over me. She being a lady, I could relate more to her and open up effortlessly. Three sessions with her and I was all set to go. The question that troubled me the most I finally asked her. "Why me doctor?" She replied, “Don’t focus on ‘why’ instead learn how to defeat it."  She said exactly what I wanted to hear. "Depression is not a disability or mental instability, it is merely a disease like Malaria or Typhoid and can be cured easily." Depression as a disease did not sound quite right. I asked again, “But why me?" Her reply, “What if I tell you that I have diabetes." She smiled. 

     She said that people who are over-sensitive, prone to over-thinking and over-imagining are more susceptible to this. She advised me to get rid of the excessive emotional baggage and look for positives. "Easier said than done", replied I. "Who doesn't go through depression in this life? At times even I do, may be I am better equipped to fight it." This came more as a shock than surprise. Now there was no room left for self-pity. "Equip yourself with positive thoughts", she quipped. 

  

     I had and still have a big aversion to pills, especially for depression. I firmly and stubbornly believed that these pills are nothing but sedatives aiming to numb the mind, make a person dull headed and wreak havoc on the body both internally and externally. For her sake, I promised to take the medication daily. On her part she promised that I would be off these pills very shortly.  She advised me to meditate, exercise, indulge in hobbies, things that everybody and anybody had been telling me.

      I must admit, the medication did wonders for me. I was less anxious, less agitated, less lethargic and most importantly I had acquired the ability to give a shut up call to my hyper active mind. I joined a gym, went for Vippassana and read a lot on spirituality. Meditation was something that I struggled a lot with initially. But I was determined to reap its much celebrated benefits. I must have read a dozen books on meditation, now was the time to experience. To calm my mind was the toughest challenge. I just couldn't bring my mind to stop thinking. The more I tried, the more actively it reacted. I had taken a liking to running on the treadmill. The kind of pleasure that I started deriving from running was inexplicable, indescribable. The more my knees cried, the more my heart rejoiced. As if I was running away from my hyperactive mind.  Running was the only time my mind became absolutely sober. So is running meditation? YES! For me certainly. I realised that there is no fixed technique for meditation. It is just like love, you only must discover it. The journey to discovery may be full of self-doubts and disappointments, but what lies beyond is surreal and all yours.

     Slowly I got the hang of quieting my mind. Initially it was like playing mind games. I would shut my eyes and tell my mind, "Just let me know what are you thinking about." It would immediately go quiet. I waited for it to bring forth the thoughts, the more I prodded the coyer it acted, the more I observed the shyer it became. So child-like! But I had to be very careful since this child-mind could throw a tantrum any time and hell would break lose whenever it connived with depression. Gradually I learnt to be on guard all the time.

     Despite all my efforts, let me confess, depression did not leave me completely. Depression is like a spurned lover, who will pounce back with most evil intentions, more forcefully, whenever it gets the first opportunity. This happened to me whenever I skipped my medication. It pained me that I was still dependent on pills for peace and happiness. Happiness, to confess honestly still hadn't paid a visit even once. 

     Although by now I could cajole my mind to be mellow, but I still struggled with sudden bouts of depression that would emerge out of nowhere like unwanted acne. Many ask me that what is it that triggers these bouts. My reply, "If I knew, I wouldn't be a victim." There could be any number of reasons. Some say mostly it is related to the situations and circumstances you are surrounded with. We may change the circumstances but then sometimes your mind joins hands with the heart and starts wishing and longing for things and situations that may be impossible or impractical. My funny heart till date wishes that my husband were a professor of English. Stupid it may be for you, but not for my fertile imagination.

                                                                                                To be continued......

MY WORST ENEMY

PART I 

    

     I know many have written about it and many have openly discussed it, but it still remains a taboo in our society. People judge you, shun you, disregard you and even look at you with an eye of suspicion the moment they get to know that you are a patient of depression. DEPRESSION. There I said it, finally. They say depression is a disease of the mind, I would like to put it as an unnecessary battling with self. With much reluctance and hesitation, today I decide to get over with unnecessary guilt and am ready to share my journey into and out of depression. Though I can relate to and feel deeply for every patient of depression, but I also know that it is an individual fight, nobody can help if one is not able to help self. 

    

     Depression or darkness befriended me in a most wicked manner. It steadily and stealthily started wrecking havoc on my mood. And I still didn't suspect anything. From being a frequent visitor to gradually turning into my constant companion, it eventually had me in its grips absolutely. My life changed for the worst. It slowly started sucking out all the joy, enthusiasm, positivity, contentment, and confidence replacing it with utter hopelessness and sheer despondence. I recoiled into my shell and slammed the door with a bang on the rest of the world. I was absolutely clueless of the machinations of depression. Depression was poisoning my mind. My mind completely lost the ability to see any good in anything and started seeking great pleasures in sorrow, grief, unhappiness and sadness. It seemed as if I was carrying a huge boulder, the weight of which made me sink deeper and deeper into an abyss. I was in a state of perpetual lethargy and devoid of any spirits. I felt deprived and disadvantaged. I have no idea what was I mourning about. The only thing I had in plenty were my tears. Unbidden tears. Without any rhyme or reason they would flood my eyes, my life. I was nurturing an anger inside me, an anger that was self directed. I was miserable and my family was subjected to passive depression because of me. This continued for a while, my family was convinced that this was a temporary phase and they kept wishing it would get over of its own accord. I lost my friends, resigned from my job....I lost LIFE. I had become an absolute slave to my mind that fed me with negative thoughts only.

     It was very difficult for my family to accept that I needed help for something they dismissed as a temporary phase, which was actually chronic depression. They even  went to the extent of blaming themselves for my plight. 

     My first psychiatrist hardly talked to me, but observed everything about me, from the way I walked, talked and conducted myself. I still remember he had written in bold that I refused to make eye contact.  Was it a sign of depression? The medicines he prescribed induced a dreamless sleep. At least I was at peace while sleeping. All I did was to eat and sleep. It was heartbreaking for my family to see my life withering away. Someone suggested that I see a leading psychiatrist in Delhi. I would love to mention my tryst with him. He charged a bomb in the name of consultation fee, gave appointment after a week, made us wait for three hours, finally sending a junior doctor who conducted a harrowing and extensive interview session for close to two hours before I was led to the actual doctor I had sought appointment with. The first thing he asked me,"What can I do for you?" I lost all faith in him there and then only. I still wonder why. Anyway, he prescribed a series of psychoanalytical tests that according to him were the pre requisite for starting my treatment. I could take these three day long gruelling tests or trade the money for buying two high end Satya Paul Sarees. That day I learnt a lot about five star commercial doctors. 

To be Continued.....

THE HIMALAYAN TRAIL

     Being a self confessed keen observer of people, one fine day I woke up and decided to observe nature more closely and what better way to start my day than to take a morning walk.

     The Himalayan trail is one of the most underused and almost abandoned path. People are very reluctant to use it not only because of its undulating nature but also due to its slippery slopes, uphill climb and deserted outlook. Its slippery unkempt slopes and muddy pathways are quite unpropitious for the knees. Also it is most of the times devoid of any human being. Despite all this I still use this track for my evening and morning walks since I feel these solitary walks are a boon for my thinking faculties. For me walking is an activity undertaken not only to burn calories, get some fresh air but also to indulge my wicked mind.

     Nevertheless, today I made a resolve to ignore my mind and pamper only my senses. The Himalayan trail is a gated walkway and the moment I opened the gate to the trail, something inexplicable happened. I was almost numb for a split second and then something made me feel as if the trail was waiting for me today. I looked at the trail and actually saw the path strewn with flowers of my favourite colour. I stood there transfixed, wondering if these flowers were there earlier too. Did I crush such beautiful flowers mindlessly walking any number of times on this path earlier? Was I so occupied with my mind that I actually became mindless. Did mindlessness make me so insensitive, almost blind to my surroundings?

     Seeing me a bit perplexed and lost once again in my thoughts, the trail had lined my path with a wonderful arrangement of plants I had never seen before. Yes! dry and green, both side by side. What a pleasant sight to behold! I realised what I had been dismissing as weeds all my life were the most beautiful creation of nature, and who says brown is the least favourite of all colours. Here I was witnessing the most splendid hues of brown and I stood there absolutely spell bound. The colour, the pattern, the design, so original, so special, so wondrous !!! Who can be more creative than nature !

 

     Just when my mind was trying to trick me into thinking about the routine and the mundane, the trail drew my attention to a prize winning flower arrangement as if made specially for me. Was I dreaming....this simple yet elegant flower arrangement enthralled me no end.

     The trail nudged me further and and I saw yet another yellow beauty greeting me, rendering me utterly confused about my favourite colour. The most beautiful yellow, self made, untended and shining so bright. I approached it slowly, bent down to acknowledge its greeting and the flower swayed a bit and smiled at me. My heart filled with never ever experienced before happiness and immense pleasure.

     Overwhelmed with such natural beauty around me I decided to sit on a rock nearby. Sitting there I saw a strikingly beautiful tiny orange coloured flower hiding in the bushes trying to seek my attention. What a colour! I was now sure that this has to be my favourite colour. As I moved closer to take a better look, the only thought that crossed my mind was, how can an ocean of beauty reside in a flower so tiny? How can a flower so beautiful, so humble live contentedly in absolute anonymity? Why does it not seek compliments? Such an exotic beauty shying away in bushes? My mind was forcing me to get lost in my thoughts. Just then a happy butterfly fluttered past me luring the child in me to run after it carefree. I chased it relentlessly to capture it in my phone but it was taking pleasure in evading me. I followed it like an excited child who was learning to enjoy again. Was it trying to teach me the value of precious moments, was it trying to tell me how to be happy effortlessly? My chase was not over yet and suddenly my eyes fell on a flower composed in such fabulous colour combination and I was compelled to think that nature can any day give the leading designers a run for their money. Thy nature, so inspiring! Greedy me had started making plans of somehow getting a dress made in these shades. Mind! My mind! Never ever lets me rest even for a while.

     I was completely engrossed in the colour combination, design, shape and was marvelling at the beauty. I sat down and the admiration started flowing of its own volition. The mere sight of the flower had such a soothing and calming effect on my mind that I wonder if I was meditating? That very moment the same fun loving butterfly fluttered past and sat on a flower right next to me giving me and my phone camera the ultimate pic of the day. I stealthily moved closer and realised I now want to get my dress made in this colour combo. The more I looked at the butterfly, the more rejuvenated I felt. The trail now seemed to be taking pride in offering me the best of its treasures. Or may be everything is 'the best.' Nature doesn't distinguish or discriminate at all. 

     The trail seemed to be basking in the glory of each and every flower and plant. And how insensitively we discriminate just about anything and everything. How prejudiced we are! What diseased and imaginary notions we have about good and bad, beautiful and ugly. How mindlessly we decide what is best and what is average. Who gave us the right to distinguish and differ? Wherever I looked I saw nothing but beauty. I wanted the time to stop and wanted the butterfly to stay still. But the trail still had very many exotic things to offer, as if hypnotising me the trail shifted my gaze towards new life making its way up the earth. Ah ! So lovely ! New life! Hope ! Life with a promise! Wonder who devised the word hopeless? Why ?

I was overwhelmed, surrounded by beauty on all sides. Flowers that were always there and yet I could never see them. Beauty that was always there and I was blind to it? Always wishing for things that are not there and blind to the best of things that are there? Why? The nature was right there offering its best, always ready to lend me happiness and yet I was blind to it. I was angry at self. I felt I had betrayed my maker. I made some fresh promises and took a vow never to break them. It was so magical, wherever i looked there was a flower or a plant of immense beauty beckoning me to spend some time with it. I clicked as if I may never be able to see them again.

               

     

     Unfortunately my phone couldn't cope with my quest for more. The battery kept warning me and I kept ignoring its pleadings. So drunk was I on beauty that all I wanted was to capture every moment in my phone. I kept clicking pictures as if I would never be able to see anything again. I had this unwarranted fear deep down my heart that tomorrow everything will be gone or I might turn 'blind' again. 

     The phone battery busted and I was absolutely shattered for a while. As if the trail had taken a vow to keep me happy despite anything, it unleashed three butterflies in shades of gold, brown and yellow towards me. They appeared from nowhere and made me regret all the more of my incapability of clicking their pics. But these butterflies were given instructions from the trail to take on the task of entertaining me from thereon. They seemed to be dancing literally and all of a sudden it dawned upon me that not every moment is meant to be captured by gadgets, some moments need to be enjoyed, the memories of which the heart would always cherish. I was nearing the end of the trail , with these three happy go lucky butterflies putting their best efforts to entertain me. As I exited the gate I looked up in gratitude and saw the sky peering at me smilingly as if asking me, "Now tell which is your favourite colour?"

LIFE LIVED

    When I was in school , my favourite teacher who happened to teach us English insisted that we read newspaper daily, to be specific, the editorial page. At home we used to get The Tribune and The Indian Express. But i had my favourites in newspapers as well and Tribune remains my favourite till date. Comprehending the writings of 'think tanks' was an onerous task nevertheless, being a sincere student i opened that page daily and looked for things that could interest me and eventually i took a liking to the writings of Mr. Harish Dhillon. He used to be the principal of a renowned school and he made a wee bit sense to me. Henceforth, began my habit of reading other than school books on daily basis. My grandfather used to stay with us and he was such a voracious reader of newspapers. Every day he would spend couple of hours with each newspaper. Sometimes it seemed to me that newspapers were his intimate companions and he was most contented, calm, composed and considerably happy in its company. If I attribute the inculcation of my reading habit to my English teacher, I attribute my knowledge of vocabulary  solely to my grandfather. Although I was more than sure that my grandfather knew the meaning of each and every word in every possible dictionary by heart, yet he would insist that I look up the meaning of difficult words in the dictionary myself, because according to his logic, if i put in effort to look up, the effort will keep on reminding the purpose and therefore I shall never forget the meaning. Wonder what his logic would have been for all those dictionary apps that believe in only making our lives easier. Touch and read. 

    Holiday homework, which in those days seemed like one of the most cruel inventions ever, instructed us, among other tasks, to write down any ten interesting news-headlines daily. Something which seemed to be an utterly futile process then, contributed a great deal in developing my interest in politics later. My grandfather was obsessed with the idea of death and I had heard him discuss it often with hia peers. His other passion was writings of Khushwant Singh which led me to read his articles and eventually I used to look forward keenly to his musings in sunday editions. Till date Khuswant Singh remains my favourite author. When I joined college, like any college going girl I too had my share of crushes and the biggest of them all was my crush on the cricketer Imran Khan thanks to the sports page which remained my favourite page for a long time. 

     Let me also mention that one of my college teachers introduced me to The Hindu. I was 'attracted' to this newspaper because it's tuesday edition carried a small column named "Know your English." The scrap book made out of the cuttings related to this column still remains my most valuable belonging till date. Gradually, newspaper reading became quite an addiction and remains one till date despite the fact that Twitter renders all the news stale these days. Newspapers have evolved a great deal over the years, page long and full page advertisements take up most of the space these days. One thing that has remained the same throughout these years is the obituary column. My obsession with these columns started when my own grandfather's obituary was published in the newspaper. How much this small obit revealed about his life was just amazing. The message conveyed that he had lived a full and fruitful life flanked by his four loving children and many grandchildren, though he stayed with us only throughout. His picture showed how youthful and handsome and happy he had been once.  This column is my only favourite column these days. I can spend hours looking at the pics of those dead. Some smiling, some laughing, some grim, some old, some young, making me wonder what made their near ones chose this particular picture for the final tribute. Sometimes while taking a selfie a thought crosses my mind what if this pic becomes a means of final goodbye and I smile harder. The size of the picture amazes me as well making me think whether a bigger picture implies bigger love or bigger social status? The loving messages attributed to the dead, the details of the family, details of the occupation, home address--doesn't a mere obit tell us all about the life once lived? Is it truly a measure of life?

     For some, obituary may be a plain show off, for me it will always remain a tribute of love by the loved ones. I've no idea whether my obit will feature in the newspaper but I certainly would want to be missed after my death.

voidsnspaces: MONEY MAKES YOU AN ACADEMICIAN

voidsnspaces: MONEY MAKES YOU AN ACADEMICIAN

MONEY MAKES YOU AN ACADEMICIAN

     A swanky plush office, her youthful pictures with so many renowned personalities adorning the office walls, a 3 carat diamond ring, nail art and many shaded streaky hair, her expensive watch and simple but expensive saree......meet Mrs Sen, the 'Owner-Principal' of a reputed school in Delhi. Her appearance and demeanor was enough to either intimidate others or make them fawn in awe. 

     My chance meeting with her took place during my interview for the job of a senior English teacher in the school. She spoke with a subtle americanized accent but sounded very firm yet friendly. She seemed in control but was not at all cordial. How useless and ridiculous my Gold Medal and other degrees, which were achievements I reveled in, seemed to me that very moment sitting in front of her. Later on she also proved it to me. 'Mrs Sen' immediately formed an impression of me, probably a good one and invited me to give a demo to students to assess my abilities. That's a separate story that there were only a handful of students and almost an equal number of teachers in the class trying either to judge me or intimidate me, something I will never know.

     Mrs Sen decided to give me the job while all the time making me aware of the so called glaring mistakes that I had made while taking the demo class. I was a bit reluctant to join, so she tried to show her magnanimity by offering me a free cup of tea every day and free bus facilities. Simultaneously in a hushed tone I was told that my original certificates would be kept with her till the time she felt I could work for her. Some people think they own the world, wonder what gives them the confidence?

     My queries and apprehensions were met with a stern and most menacing glance as if I had done something blasphemous. To add to this was the servile and embarrassingly obsequious attitude of the wives of some high officials working as teachers in the school whose sole aim seemed to me to please the mighty Mrs Sen. This was not going well with my highly sensitive sensibilities. I was really missing my position of a headmistress in a reputed school which I had quit only recently owing to family commitments. I never realized that money power can give one the confidence of behaving like an academician of international repute and treat others like slaves with sheer disregard to their experience and stature. I also realized that teaching is not the preferred choice of profession and many join it either out  of some compulsion or for sheer time pass. When one is offered money, many simply grab it and try to hide their feelings and even academic incompetence in the garb of sycophancy. 

     To cut the long story short, being a rebel that I am, I was not prepared to be cowed down by their tactics of trying to intimidate new applicants into submission. I decided to say no to a supposedly 'lucrative offer in a top Delhi School' and armed with this new found confidence I marched right into Mrs Sen's office the next day. My decision must have shocked her cause I could see her riding on the horns of dilemma but her ego emerged victorious. She must have been really miffed at me cause when I requested her to return my original certificates, she could only reply by saying "Why would we keep your certificates, we have enough trash".

     So here I am, happy and still hunting!!!

         

Mr. Y

Hurling abuses & issuing warnings comes to him naturally and all his talk reeks of egocentric musings ;

                           Yet his name is synonymous with peace, warmth and understanding.

Disregarding the value of time and making people wait for him is his signature style;

                           Yet his name is synonymous with values, ethics and morals.

Thriving on controversies to enhance his  popularity is his most cherished mantra for survival ;

                            Yet his name is synonymous with simplicity, humility and modesty.

Indulging in personal whims and fancies & turning a blind eye to the ills infesting the society is a personal choice;

                            Yet his name is synonymous with benevolence, altruism and self-sacrifice.

Flaunting his power and position to silence the voice of intellectual elite gives him an immense sense of pride;

                             Yet his name is synonymous with poise, grace and profundity.

He is too preoccupied exploring the new highs of his luxurious life  to look into the grievances of those who reposed immense faith in him;

                              Yet he is the leader, politician and 'a superior'.