“And it was…” The line is cut. The whole page is filled with scribblings.
Writing was always something so complex for me. Sometimes, I’ll feel an intuition but it was never so real. My writing was so sporadic. I, first of all, am talking about my writing because it is the first thing I did when I felt lost during the lockdown. Everyone had their own weak points this year. Writing, for me, was not so comfortable. There are many reasons: I’ve been writing less but I’d rather say that my mind has become less responsive.
As a child, I wanted to start my own community. Indian kids suffer a lot during their childhood, especially those who spent the past two years at home. Irrespective of their gender, some of the issues they go through are: they aren’t given the agency to approach situations in their lives. The state I belong to has high health records, but this infrastructure hasn’t reached the grassroots yet. We’ve to evolve more.
Why? Because we are under big pressure indeed. These issues can include being socially isolated, domestic issues, criticism by family members for new ventures like social media, blogging, class conflict and shame when the teacher asks to turn the video on but you can’t because your data will be drained or your camera won’t work because your drunk dad broke it yesterday.
We should not assume that kids don’t feel any of this.
My depression aggravated during the lockdown. Depression is one of the diseases in the world that is so deadly and diverse but so easily trivialised by people. Plus, I’ll have some other dozen thoughts railing through my mind, but I can’t even define them because I don’t know what they are. I will be seen inspecting the smallest of things for no reason. The thing I want now the most is an agency to share my agonies, but I fear others’ minds, too.
In fact, I don’t know much but I want to present anything before the push is over. My mind is so dynamic that I need someone to share its thoughts with. And that is when people will be like: “Oh you’re sharing it with a friend, not your parents”, “Oh my God, did you consult a psychologist! Are you mad?” or “These are your whims and fancies. Don’t overthink!” These repeating comments are heard by every teenager who’s in the same condition as I am. People can’t value one’s privacy or the health and validity of a disease.
Although we might have conflicts with them, they’re the next affected group: parents. I can’t get much about them because I’ve not studied much. But there’s a senior couple in my neighbourhood who live in a house that is in a comparatively higher area. They live on the first floor and their only son is settled abroad. They’ll surely feel insecure.
The house was built according to their plan, but the lockdown made us rethink our decisions, too. But to err is human, right? And to correct it is a beautiful thing. But what do I say about my own parents, except that they’ve got bits of technology from us, they too are falling deep and deeper.
There’s the obvious and first issue of the generation gap. It affects both generations. And employment is another major villain in this. Last year was a time of mass removing and migrant exodus. Elsewhere, salaries weren’t paid regularly. And somewhere else, retirement was the villain. Or it was the educational cost that made them take a loan. All these have made serious implications. But the vampire isn’t here yet: serials. They’ve only helped us cement our stereotypes. We can’t blame our parents because it’s their only entertainment after the day’s hectic schedule.
The next group of people I would like to talk about is differently-abled persons. Being the sibling of such a person, I can say that it’s no easy thing. Neither it’s a matter of boasting because the witnesses will be just helplessly looking. Isolated, disengaged, idleness, mundanity and everything makes them jump and at last cry their heart out. My brother got somewhat happy and engaged when the LSG started coordination programmes. But online sessions, too, are a matter of taking your mental health out. Wishing to meet friends in person and swearing at COVID-19 are some repercussions.
For students who are more private, I don’t know whether all of them are introverted and are indeed another priority group. They face a lot of compulsions during online classes. Some will shrink to themselves on social media so that no one is able to manipulate their vulnerability. I’ve seen such an instance where random persons called me on Truecaller and threw sexual advances on Instagram and I had to sort a way out. At first sight, Indians will blame me but the culprits are living safely.
The next section is no less significant: our queer folks. Do you know that in my class, my teachers refer to boys and girls only? And for an ally like me, this too is a form of exclusion. When I asked one of the teachers about it, he casually asked me not to mention unwanted things since there was no queer person in my class then.
My whole class laughed at me except for some very close friends. Perhaps, some will even feel I’m horribly ‘woke’. People from the queer community are fighting for their existence every day, and as a cishet woman, I’ll feel it less. But it’s true that cases like that of Anannya Kumari and Nandana Suresh are still funny for some and funny names are given to the people from the community instead of spreading inclusivity among peers.
Our mind is so inexplicable, floating. We need help and guidance and it’s better to stand for each other during times of hardship. It’s okay to not be okay. Let everybody have the accessibility to care and love.