COMMUNICATION IS THE KEY

Bhagya

I have seen numerous cases around me where people suffered due to lack of communication. I believe “communication is the key” to solve any issue, major or minor. The ideas and thoughts of a person must be conveyed to others if they want a good relationship with them. Hiding the feelings and thoughts beneath the silent envelope does not prove one right or worthy of concern. It just gives rise to misunderstandings and differences between people. A good healthy communication builds stronger relationships. The sharings of opinions and ideas brings people closer and on good terms. Their opinions might not match, it is surely possible that they will vary, but that is also part of the communication. The difference in opinions leads to more conversations, deeper ones, thereby opening the threads of tangled thoughts. 

I have seen couples breaking up, families withering apart, friends leaving alone, all because of the lack of communication. This must be understood that one can only understand you when they know you, your thoughts. For that, one needs to talk. Talk the heart out! Sometimes it gets difficult to speak out the inner feelings, sometimes people feel uncomfortable sharing them with others, but I believe it all depends on the priority. One needs to decide what matters more, the comfort of hiding in the cocoon or the relationship. It takes just a moment of silence to break a strong relationship sometimes. Sometimes the long duration of no or less communication rusts the bond, ultimately breaking it. The misunderstandings or the problems can only get resolved when they are laid clearly on the table. 

The proper communication not only saves relationships, they also save lives. I have also witnessed loss of lives due to various reasons which could easily be solved with a good talk! The lack of communication also affects mental health. The studies in human psychology clearly states that effective communication can work wonders on mental distress. A casual session of talk or just simple chit chats can improve mental health. There are a few people around me who are facing mental distress and depression. They refuse to talk or spend time with others. This adds even more to the distress, pushing them towards the darkness of depression. The final destination for them is just death as they cut all the connections with other things. The psychology of such people stops them from sharing their feelings with others. They start believing that they are not worthy of happiness and life. They must live alone, or worse, not live at all. This seemingly huge issue has a very simple solution. A small talk! Just a few moments of good conversation can immediately improve their mental health and help them out of their distress. I do understand that it is quite tough but we must not seclude ourselves from the world. We must stay connected, talking, and conversing with others. Human beings are social animals, blessed with the ability to discuss our thoughts, share our feelings, and express our opinions. We must use this rare power effectively. 

Communication is not just about speaking up. It is equally about listening. We should be effective listeners. If I go on speaking my heart out to someone, thinking that at the end of the day, I’ll get my ideas clear with that someone. And  the person is just not paying attention to my talks. He/She might be hearing me speaking but not listening. This causes a sense of disappointment and mental distress. This type of behaviour can hurt and make us feel unimportant. My thoughts may not be relevant to others, they might not agree with me, but I hold a right to be listened to, and if required, replied to by them. I know people who are excellent orators, they fluently and effortlessly clear their point of views and talk out leaving nothing on their heart. But they are equally bad listeners. They never pay attention to whatever is said to them. Being a good listener is as important as it is to be a good speaker. Being a good listener can again enrich psychology. We get to understand people better if we listen to them. There are plenty of ideas in the world which may not be familiar or native to us but a part of the lives of others. It is always good to know others’ perspectives and empathize with them. It adds to our mental health. It implies that we are able to understand and support the psychology of other people. 

The researches show that communication helps people out of incurable diseases. Just a good deal of effective talk improved the physical and mental health of the patients. Physical illness is not dissociated from mental health. Many of the diseases get cured when they are treated at the psychological level. The effects are positive in the physical illness, if we feel positive mentally. Good talk can even cure sick plants. I myself have seen this in my garden. The plants that are dying, the yellowing leaves falling every day, magically turned into a healthy plant. Just a bit of talk to them, and they bloomed. This same experiment is done in the hospitals. The expert or genuinely kind doctors and nurses treat the patients with positive talk along with the treatment with medicines. 

A good deal of communication leaves us satisfied and happy. The clear conversation leaves no room for doubts, conflicts or misunderstandings. We should always focus on sending the right and true message to the next person. The gap in communication creates a gap in the relation, the bonding and the mentality. There is an instance where I’ve witnessed a family breaking apart, including a loss of life. The son gradually stopped listening to the other family members and talking to them. By and by, the communication between them stopped altogether. They never used to talk to him and vice versa. The son was apparently seen losing interest in himself and the surrounding world. He used to remain locked behind the doors of his room. The family tried to talk to him but he never came up with h8s thoughts. He never spoke up his feelings to the family. I am not sure if there was something done by the family that led to that kind of situation or if it was some external factor that made the son depressed. But he never expressed his thoughts to those who were always willing to listen to him. After a few days I got to hear the news that the mother died of some medical reason. I don’t know whether it was solely related to the conditions of her son or it was just an illness. But one thing is clear that her mental distress added to whatever physical illness she said, if she had any. Her psychology changed to such a level that it affected her physically and she died. This finally broke the silence of the son, but what was the use of it then? She lost her life and the family lost the mother, all because of the lack of communication. 

This, I conclude with what I said in the beginning, “communication is the key”. Talk with people, listen to them, support each other. Don’t waste the blessing of the power to communicate. This helps us as well as others. 

DO THEY WANT TO DIE?

Bhagya

I just read an article on the increasing number of suicide cases in the country and one thought that continually haunted me was that ‘do they WANT to die? Do they really want to end their life ? I mean, why would someone bear the pain of killing themselves? People say that they couldn’t fight with their problems and escaped through death. What kind of escape is that? Who would like to run away from their problems like that? Killing oneself takes great courage and a strong willpower. The decision must be a tough one. But the question remains the same, do they actually wish to die?

The thoughts of suicide do not come just like that. If someone is thinking of ending the life then it should be understood that he or she must be dealing with things that s/he is unable to resolve. When we try to find the thoughts clouded just before the suicidal thoughts started gathering, we find that the person is bothered with some kind of problem and is trying to get its solution. The person is trying to come out of the web of complexities .S/he might have tried some or the other options but failed. Then comes the thought of suicide. The person believes that the problem would end with the life.

Do you see some pattern in this process? Can you trace the actual wish? If you still believe that they want to DIE, then you need to look at the other side of the coin. They do not actually want to die! What they want is solution, for their problems. There is no one in the world,except some maniac, who likes to kill himself. But almost everyone in the world has thought of suicide at least once in their life. So, whenever someone wants to die they actually want the solution! They want the end of problem and not the end of life. They seek for the escape from the problem of life, not from the life itself.So next time,when you get chance to save a person from suicide, do not just counsel them but help them in swimming out of the problem he or she is facing. Of course everyone has to fight their own battle but at least be that support t which is desired. Remember that the chair of one more support is always empty in every person’s life. No help is extra, so be that.

Revisiting the Past

Bhagya

The time passes by, and with it passes by the moments, no matter how hard you try to hold on them, Time ruthlessly erases the moments, leaving behind just the memories. If the present is beautiful enough, you don’t miss your past much. But the hit of the first pang of the day, and there you are, crying for the days gone. I believe nothing can be more painful than the hit of nostalgia. It leaves you crying and craving for something that you can never get at any cost. And the realization of the very fact increases the pain. You do know that it is not possible to get back to the moments that are gone, but still you long for them as if your wish would come true. Here, I feel the urge to say that really ‘ignorance is bliss’.  To not know the truth at least leaves the hope in our mind that it could happen. But to know is to lose the hope.

Here I am, missing the past, missing my long gone childhood days which are not going to be back again. I know I won’t be able to relive them and again the knowledge is tough to digest. I visited my village recently and the visit was not a pleasant one. I planned the visit thinking that it would transmit me back to the old days. The days when I, with my cousins, used to play whole day. Without any stress, without any acknowledgement of the coming Future, we used to play day in and day out. There was just the school homework and games, eating and playing was our routine. Nothing could stop us from running tirelessly in the fields, without our chappals. Everything was a game to us, everything a matter of fun, and excitement. Someone is getting a well dug, we ran to have a look, and later to play with the mud left out of the well. If a house is getting ready, there we are, playing hide and seek in the half-built house. The fields with crops like peas, corn, sugarcane, cucumber etc., could not remain untouched by us. We were like prince and princesses of our village and were equally respected by the villagers. They used to call us “chhoti panditain” and “chhote panditji” and we used to get annoyed by this gesture. Some used to tease us, calling us horse and tiger, as we used to run along the roads, through their houses, through the fields. The whole village, including the houses was our playground. Then there was dadi, our grandmother, who used to apply every technique to keep us home. She and her pressing us for food. She was always ready with enough food in her plate to feed us. Following us everywhere, she used to shout our names. She never liked us running everywhere. Sometimes she used to get sticks to scare us so that we could listen to her. But who could stop us. We were far more cunning than she thought we were. We used to make plans in English in her presence and when asked, told her that it’s our homework. She, rather everyone in the village, had this habit of having naps during the afternoon hours, after the meal. That was our golden hour. We used to sneak away, out on the fields, to have the tour of the village, when everyone’s asleep. It was pure adventure to us. We used to climb the trees, jump into the pits, walk on the walls, swing on the branches, eat whatever we get, be it baby leaves or raw fruits and vegetables. Then there were our friends, although younger than all of us, still we played together. Everyone was friend, everyone was a relative. Some called us bua, some didi, some maasi. But it never bothered us. We played, did cheatings, fought with each other, pushing each other in the soil, and again playing together. We even sometimes used to bring eatables from our homes, in order to celebrate a small picnic. I still remember how we used to talk to dadi to get her into our plan and get one or two rupees from her. We mostly got one rupee and that was enough for the four of us. But lucky were the days when she gave us two rupees. That day was party for us. The feeling was of earning the world and we used to celebrate like anything. I, being the eldest of all, was the in-charge. And it was my duty to see that everyone gets equal share of whatever we get. But I had my ways. Since others were younger kids, it was sometimes difficult for them to tear the packets or get off with the wrappers. So it was again my duty to do that for them. There comes my idea, of getting a portion of their share which I used to call bakhshis for doing the job for them. It was so much fun. The storms which made everyone else run inside their houses used to work its opposite for us. The first sign of storms used to make us leap out of our houses. We kids ran out in the strong wind and heavy rain to enjoy every blow of it. The aftereffects of the storm was even more rewarding. Raw mangoes, litchis, wild berries, imli  and other such things were the gift of nature to us, we believed, for enjoying the storm. Floating paperboats is a cliché and need not be mentioned. I assume everyone know the joy of floating boats made out of the paper torn from school notebooks, which sometimes turned out to be the important notes which made us suffer later. Everyday was festival when I was a kid. But now, even the festivals fail to bring such joy.

The revisit, as I mentioned, was not a pleasant one. As soon as I entered the village, instantly I realized that the decision was not right. I should not have come here, not now. At least the memories of the village was a sooth to me and I could enjoy those whenever I wished by just remembering the childhood days. But now, after this visit, THE things are going to change. The new images would get pasted over the older ones. The very house where I spent my best of the days was no more the same. Instead I found a well-built cemented house with several rooms. It’s not that the new house was built over and in the place of the older one. That old kachcha house was still there, but in a condition that gave no comfort to eyes when entered. The entrance was stooped so low that anyone can hardly enter from there. So from where we were supposed to enter the house? It was through the side wall that was lying down, one with the soil. Yes, the house was collapsed! It was dilapidated, lying down helplessly, just like a person who is old and not taken care of. The cheerful varanda where we used to enjoy our meals was no more cheerful. Rather it was more like a field full of dust and soil. The kitchen is no more visible as it got mixed with the other fallen walls. The room which belonged to dadi, where we used to spend our nights whenever we stayed there was lifeless, left ignored. My heart broke at that cruel sight. It was just unbearable.

When I moved ahead, I found that even the other houses of my village were not the same. It was like a complete transformation. Mostly two-storied houses took the places of all of the kachcha houses that I was so proud of. Those older houses spoke love, unity, simplicity, a connection with the nature, the earth. Those were even very comfortable with all of the needs covered. The nearby wells with ‘oh, so cold’ water, THE green fields bearing various crops, the vastly spread aangan, the gatherings of people under the trees… All of these were missing and I more than ever regretted my decision. Even the people with whom we grew up, those bhaiyas, bhabhis, chachis, dadis, friends, most of them were not there. I got to know that they moved out of the village to some better place.

Now the kids no more run around the village, as they have better things to do (obviously, they have smartphones and T. V.). The elderly people no more gather under the trees, for there are not much trees as well as elders. No more matkas get filled with the cool water of well, every house has motor fitted taps. My village lost its soul.

I understand that change is a must but a change this dramatic! I returned to my home and convinced myself that the older village is a past as is my childhood and I can never go back to it, except through my memories  and sometimes… through my dreams.