Don’t tell him I said this, but…

I’ll tell you about Aarav (name changed) today. He’s my brother; by bond, if not directly by blood. He’s my cousin. Aarav and I have been pretty close since childhood, and our entire family was accustomed to us being so oblivious to other people’s presence in the room when we were together. We had our usual pranks (like giving each other dead cockroaches in ring boxes on birthdays, amongst others. He once gave me Arhar dal’s packet- 2kg because he’s so generous- once for a birthday gift). 

As we grew up, we both made new friends. He made some, I made some. I made few wrong ones and a lot of good ones, he made just bad ones. He made friends with people our parents warn us about. He was a scholar badge holder till 8th grade- which means he was way above average students in his grade. 

He was in 9th class when it all started. When some notorious boys in our school deliberately broke the school’s statue of St. George, and he witnessed the entire thing and got suspended for that. Slowly, these harmless shenanigans turned into harmful ones. He changed schools but couldn’t change his company. He started drinking like a drunkard, and couldn’t abstain despite being asked by me and others in the family. By now, everyone knew he’d soon get doomed if he didn’t stop. 

As he passed school, he couldn’t get into a college. And started working at odd jobs to make ends meet. I warned him, I told him to do something as correspondence, to get back to studies, and that life would be much better later on if he just focused on studies instead of ‘making money’ now. He didn’t listen to me, or anyone for that matter. 

Cutting to the month of August, a month after he turned 24. He came to me and we smoked up a doob. He told me he needed me and that he was in a mess. Coming from someone who had broken bottles on people’s heads, someone who didn’t come home for days, someone who was known for being mischievous and get into ‘kaands’- I wasn’t surprised. Neither did I take him seriously. Not to mention, we were both high, which led me to brush him off. 

In October, we went for a cousin’s wedding. Aarav was someone who was the heart of every party. He’s the guy who’d make everyone laugh. He’s the guy who’d make you fall for him in minutes and charm your pants off. I remember we were sitting at the back of the bus and he didn’t say a word to me properly for the next 9-10 hours. We drank 100 pipers and “chilled”- listened to music, just enjoyed the scenery outside. But something had changed. Something was very odd about his behaviour. 

We went to ‘hit one’ outside, during the functions, and he said nothing. He did drop subtle hints that something was not right in his life, but I ignored it, once again thinking it’s “the usual”. 

I was Aarav’s best friend- I wasn’t supposed to do it. But I guess that’s something that comes with the territory of knowing someone so well. You have their image in your head and even if they did try to change it, or make you think otherwise, you would just subconsciously condone it. Rather than saving the situation, I let it go because I didn’t take his “cry-for-help” seriously. 

Present.
He’s in a hospital right now, not recognising people. Not able to talk, or move. Not able to even pee, or eat.

November.
He cut his wrists. Doctors said that if the wound was even 0.5 cm deeper, he wouldn’t have survived. 

December.
Therapy continued, to no avail. He was making no progress when suddenly, one day he himself decided to talk to his mother. From there on, his progress continued. He just used to chant God’s name all day and go to temple every single day. He started learning harmonium from his aunt. The entire family came together to help him. 

4 days ago.
At 1 am in the night my father got a call that Aarav hadn’t returned since morning. He had called once was but unable to tell his exact location on phone for 30 minutes. He was stuttering and blabbering, and he had no money. Police complaints were registered, his picture was circulated. He had gone to Janpath, saying he was fine and was ready to get back to his feet, but he didn’t come back. 2 days after insane hunting, the police found him near Shadipur metro station blankly staring at the crowd. 

Present.
He won’t say anything to anyone. He won’t tell anyone anything. He just keeps staring blankly at the ceiling in the hospital. The CT Scan, Ultrasounds, X-rays are all normal. The doctors don’t know what to do with him. They say he might never return to ‘normalcy’.

My point here besides just telling you my story? Please reach out to people. I partly blame myself for his condition. If only I had listened to him in August… If only I had picked up on the subtle hints he dropped in Lucknow… If only I had talked to him as a friend and not as a protective sister. If only… 

Depression, unlike diseases with physical symptoms, might not be visible to everyone, but in some ways, it’s worse than those ailments. Depression eats you from within, it creeps up inside of you and takes control. In that moment, you lose your identity and become a totally different person. The others might think you are seeking attention, or that it’s usual for you to do “drama”, or that you’re simply over-acting. 

If you ever find someone who says they’re fine, but you can tell they’re not- talk to them. Don’t talk them OUT of it, talk TO them. Tell them you’re there, tell them you care. I don’t know if this works for everyone but I feel we should pester them when they want to be left alone, love them when they say it’s not needed, bother them with calls, shower them with care, most of all- don’t leave them, even if they say they want to be left alone. The last thing a person already going through hell needs is going through it alone. 

I know how bored you must be with my usual drama right now, but no matter what I do, nothing alleviates the pain I’m in.

Don’t be another Neha to your Aarav. Don’t brush off their signs as drama. My brother might never talk to me again, he might never make me smile again, or may never call me an ‘aunty’ again when I dress up in traditional wear, he may never fight with me again, or call me up again with “Yaar Neha ek panga ho gaya yaar.” 

Don’t tell him I said this, but I miss those things so much.