Dealing With Grief

The recent news about the suicide of a Bollywood actor, Sushant Singh Rajput, has reopened fresh discussions about depression, mental health and various other issues. I have a policy of not commenting on anything and everything out there on social media. But this is one issue, I think, I need to record it here. It is extremely difficult for me to talk about this. But it needs to be done.

I moved to study in Australia in Jun 2018. I planned for this to happen in Mar 2017. As I was researching about universities, booking for my English tests, in Jul 2017, my dad was diagnosed with Cancer. There were no symptoms. He was a teetotaller, vegetarian, cooked his own food, maintained himself well- through an organic diet, Yoga and exercise!  It was beyond treatment. All we could do was, wait for the inevitable, which happened on 3rd Nov 2017. One day before it happened, I got my offer letter from my University and it was the last thing I spoke to my dad about. In less than 6 months of his passing away, I had quit a well-paying government job, moved to a new country, started my Masters degree, searching for a part-time job, meeting new people, networking and everything that goes with it. And I had to do it all, while dealing with something as terrible as- Grief!

I did not have the time to sit and cry in peace. I had not mourned my dad. All I wanted to do was- fuel every single bit of energy I had into a dream I had held, since I was 13! By Mar 2019- after a particularly difficult few months of my life, dealing with job loss, being on the verge of homelessness, meeting some not-so-nice people- I snapped. I couldn't do anything. Grief is not something which everyone can relate to- let alone empathise with. And it is not fair to expect everyone to understand as well.

I had left everything and come here for a purpose. And I needed to get back on track. Fortunately, my University offered free counselling services for the students. I booked my first appointment in Mar 2019 and I have been regularly visiting the professionals since then. I cannot stress how much it helps. As I await the results of my degree, I have looked back and found that I have completed 2 internships, a study abroad (in Germany), leadership position within the university (and an award for recognising the leadership skills) and many more experiences! I do not know what the future holds for me, especially with the challenges of a pandemic ahead- but I am happy, optimistic and hopeful.

Everyone understands about the importance of mental health. But what we need now is empathy. Often times, especially back home in India, it is a taboo to even visit a mental health counsellor. There are a million questions raised. It is this fear of judgement which stops most people from visiting mental health professionals. Pause. Even if one is unsure about whether you need it or not- I would still suggest to take an appointment to visit a mental health professional. If not for anything- it is definitely a good place to just talk. If not treatment, you still come out of it with a perspective!

Searching For Relevance

I have strived to be 'relevant' my whole life!

This realisation hit me recently when I was adding books to my Goodreads "Read" list. I came across a vlog/ blog where this person had suggested that having a 'Goodreads' list is a great motivator to read more. I had a Goodreads account already which I primarily use to read reviews of the books I want to read. I thought their suggestion made sense. I started recollecting the books I've read through my life so far and added them to Goodreads. Suddenly, I realised that I have way too many classics on my list!

It was never deliberate. My mom introduced me to them. I remember the first time I ever read them. In fact, I have written about this multiple times in the past. The first book I read in my life was this English translation of "The Count of Monte Christo" by Alexander Dumas which I found on one of my uncles' bookshelf. The more books my mom got me, the more I fell in love with them. Eventually, all the kids in my class would discuss Nancy Drew and 'Sidney Sheldon'- while all I knew was Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters!

I then realised that I must start reading books that can help me have a decent conversation with kids my age. I started reading Enid Blyton, Harry Potter books (which I fell in love with)- and kept reading more relevant books. I did find a few good book-loving friends through my undergrad days. Some of them were familiar with the works of one of my favourite author Alister MacLean even!

If I ever manage to write an autobiography, I think I would have "Chapters" or "Phases" in it named after authors. After my classics phase, I had an 'Ayn Rand' phase. Then a 'Sylvia Plath' phase which thankfully got transformed and I entered into the 'Paulo Coelho' phase and so on…

Mythologies to pseudo-mythologies. Sci-Fi and Fantasies. I kept reading and strived hard to stay relevant.

These days, I just read. I have stopped trying to be relevant. I like reading. And I like reading the books I like reading. I have realised that- relevance, doesn't matter…

Appa's Treasures

My dad told me a lot of stories. Stories from the mythologies, supernatural thrillers from his ancestral home, story of his life and many more. He was a great storyteller. And one of his stories was about the ‘Sunday Markets of Pondicherry’. It was a ‘love story’ from the late 70s or early 80s- a love story between my dad and his Jawa motorbike. The stories would usually begin on a lazy Sunday morning and my dad waking up to a freshly brewed cup of coffee and to the sound of the newspaper boy’s bicycle. ‘Care-free bachelor days’ he would often say as my mother rolled her eyes! He would get ready and take out his ‘Jawa’ and ride into the city, searching for motorcycle parts to customise his bike.

The Sunday Markets of Pondicherry, he would say, was a treasure chest. You can never imagine what you might get. You could probably find about anything there. This one day, he came across a Vinyl collection of Elvis Presley or a Carnatic musician of great renown! And the story would then be about the purest sound of music which comes from the vinyl. From autographed books to Burmese wooden cabinets- the Sunday Markets of Pondicherry were the answer to everything. Of course, he customised his Jawa too!

My dad’s adventures always made me wonder if I would ever have such adventures. I travelled within India, quite extensively, to see if I could find such treasures. I sure found souvenirs, but no treasures. I grew older and grew tired of looking for treasures.

I moved to Australia. I began volunteering as a shop assistant in a charity op shop. From clothes to books, games to music CDs- it was a shop full of life! A ‘Cup of tea’ rituals in the afternoons, were full of stories of a city that used to be. Regulars who visited for new souvenirs of the ‘Royals’, mums who wanted dresses for their daughters for a play. There were old cameras. I always wondered what kind of pictures they had taken during their life! How many arrested moments of time it had held! Handcrafted jewellery boxes, crystal earrings and rings- who had they been gifted to?!

I eventually ended up in the books section of the shop. Reminded me of George Orwell’s essay, “Bookshop Memories”. I would price them. Sometimes, I would just flip through a book and end up reading a few lines. I learnt about ‘bush poetry’, Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson.

One day, I came across a book. It was a book from one of my dad’s market stories. One of his treasures. It was a book, my dad often claimed, that changed his life. It was a book titled… Well, it didn’t matter! I held it in my hand- this withered little book. It had been a gift to someone. It had a few scribbles. But I held it in my hand, and I could hear my father breathe.

My treasure rests on my bookshelf!