All of us want a purpose, some of us need a purpose. It’s difficult to see what makes life worth living when there is no reason to succeed. To be alive and to live are very different. One might eat to stay alive but give up the comforts of good food to follow a dream. That’s living. We are all wanderers and some of us are lost. The roads go on and on, none lead to the sea. We’re drowning in the streets.
Woh qurbaani kya jo tum apno ke liye dete ho
Unki khushi mein apni khushi dhundte ho
Khudgarz ho, magar khudko khuda samajhte ho
Raat ka naqab pehne chali thi kahani dhundhne
Log naye mile, kahaniyaan vahi thi
Kisika dil zor se toota, wahan ishq ne gaalon pe mala gulaal hai
Maa beemar, boss kameena. Dost besharam, ye rat race ka bhram.
Raat ke nashe mein sab aansoon aur soda 50-50 lete hai.
Humsafar toh hum sab yahab lekin ab sooraj aa raha hai
Naqab sabne phirse pehen liye
At the end of twelve years of schooling I am told that one examination will determine how smart I am. On the basis of how much I can remember. Irrespective of how much I truly understand. And I must score well. Because grades are the easiest way to differentiate between candidates vying for the same position. And yet I choose to sit and rant instead of picking up textbooks. Genius. But this begs the question – why are students so annoyed?
Schools do this funny thing where they take a subject you like, make it monotonous, force you to learn it their way and then wonder why your grades are dropping. They enforce their method on kids. There is no second way to think. And God forbid you ask teachers a question not in the textbooks, for the answer is always the dull, “Out of syllabus.” I now hate subjects I liked before. I’m considering changing my stream and picking a completely different major in college. Which sounds insane, but so do 4 more years of half-hearted classroom naps.
Schools are also guilty of focussing more on our ability to get good grades as opposed to our ability to understand the concept. Teachers will highlight the important parts of a chapter and stress on the concepts that fetch marks. Constant reminders about the importance of scores are forced down our throats at regular intervals. We aren’t allowed to forget that our peers are also our competitors. And so in one sentence they establish the importance of coming first no matter the situation. And so we slog. We slog until we tire ourselves out. We refuse to run the race we spent years preparing for.
On the other end of the spectrum, we have the incredibly supportive adults who constantly use the phrase, ” Marks don’t matter.” Incredibly supportive and generous with praise, they never fail to tell us how special we are. Yet, we see through this white lie. I love them for being so concerned but I fail to see why they shield us from the reality of the world out there. There is no denying the fact that my grades will be used to judge my capabilities. And I do not have a problem with the fact that grades matter.
I do have a problem with the red cross across a solution that uses a different method. I do have a problem with archaic teaching methods. I do have a problem with exams that test memory, not intelligence. I do not have a problem with grades. My problem is an education system that revolves around them.
Khudko hi khudse khona
Mayoosi mein khamosh hona
Mera sannatein ke saath rishta hai
Tu pehli baarish sa koi farishta hai
Mere aks teri maujudagi maangte nahi
Meri rooh teri saansein bhaanpti nahi
Lekin tu hai toh main hoon
Mera wajood ab mera nahi
Teri meherbaani hai
Summer as a child was delightful despite the scorching sun. Dozing until the sun is high in the sky, playing around in pools or gobbling ice-cream; summers always meant relaxing. I loved going to my grandmother’s house. It was always a welcome change. I loved staying in a big house with a verandah instead of living in matchbox like apartments. The house would always remain cool and gave us ample space to play whatever games a child’s mind could come up with until the sun went down and brought welcome relief.
We were a set of ten cousins from all age groups. Yet we managed to have the time of our lives doing the things that make summer magical. We would sit in the shade of the huge almond tree and play antakshari. The real fun would begin as the sun set and so would the games; tag, chain tag and hide-and-seek to name a few. Sometimes we would sit and listen the elders of the house share stories, a regular feature due to the frequent power cuts.
It isn’t just the memories of my cousins but also those of the tantalising smells that would waft from the kitchen that make me grin. We would often try to guess the menu for the night. Despite all the food that was made inside the house we would still run out of the house at the call of the kulfi-vendor, his kulfis the perfect treat for our sweaty, tired bodies. Then, there were the luscious mangoes that we could never eat without making a gooey mess of ourselves.
And so summer would go on in bliss until with the arrival of the rains we would depart, tears brimming in our eyes but a smile on our faces as we would think of the summer that was and all the summers that we would come to spend with each other.Times have changed and so has summer. However, the magic of summers is something I will carry with me in the place that is between awake and asleep, the place where we remember dreams, the land of forever.
Nearly 5% of the Indian population suffers from depression or anxiety, that is 62 million people and we still refuse to talk about it. Most people associate a psychiatrist with “pagalo ka doctor”- a doctor for mad people. The shame of being seen outside their office keeps most patients away. And so they suffer, in silence until they can handle it no more and crumble.
I learnt through my experience, there is only one way to handle the issue – talking. Open dialogue does away with the distorted perceptions people have about mental health. More importantly it allows people to discuss the issue at hand and it no longer remains taboo. It also creates more awareness about what the symptoms of mental health disorders are and identifying them, the first step in tackling in any health issue.
It establishes the importance of mental health in our everyday lives. We often literally go an extra mile to stay physically fit but ignore our emotional well-being. The ramifications of ignoring mental well-being include higher stress levels, anxiety and a multitude of disorders. By shifting the focus onto mental well-being, we give people a nudge in the direction of better mental health.
This inevitably leads to the most important outcome of discussing mental health- we foster an environment in which people are more willing to admit they need help. Their problems are no longer an embarrassment or mere cries for attention. The increased awareness also means that their loved ones are more capable of identifying cries for help and able to support their dear ones. They are able to approach doctors and buy medication with no qualms. We slowly see a structured support system developing that revolves around the well being of the patient.
Changing mindsets is not easy and many will continue to argue that “it’s all in the head”. In response I quote the late headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore – Why on Earth does that mean it is not real?
Words. They never fail to astound me. The same words define a mother’s touch and a lover’s caress. But we always know the difference.
I have always found it easier to write. There are no interruptions, no glances or misplaced sighs. But there are days when I want someone to sit by me, and listen. Days when I try and keep stuttering. So I paint for them pictures in ink so they don’t have to imagine a world I can not speak of. I trade my insecurities for support and happy moments for laughter.
Where does a blog fit in? I guess it doesn’t. But it feels right. And on most days going with my gut ends up working out just fine. This isn’t a sad blog but it isn’t jubilant either. It is just me rambling.
If you’re still reading this, CHEERS !
Catharsis 