All characters fictitious

This is a story of two women. They were very different. One wore saree all the time. The other was more comfortable in jeans. One, barely literate, the other, highly educated. One never saw a town before she was married, the other was a true blue town bred. They both laughed a lot!

Punita lives in an area that can not even be called a slum. It is a makeshift house with polythene sheets doing most of the needful, that is when they can. On nights with high speed wind, they can not hold together any more. Punita stays up tending to the sheets then with her three children, now two as one of them is married. The husband helps when he can. When he is in a state to tend to anything. Punita grew up in Rural Uttar Pradesh. Never went to school. Her only dream was to get married and a house to call her own. A smiling and hardworking woman, she got married as a 14 year old. Her husband worked in a big town, they told her. She could not fathom what awaited her in that big city. She, however, adjusted quickly and started working day and night. She would wake up early in the morning to clean cars, work in people's homes, wash dishes, sweep floors, wash clothes, folding the dried ones among many other things. People loved her for her smiling nature. The only problem was her husband drank too much and would pick up a quarrel now and then. She would get badly beaten up on those nights. She did not have time to nurse her hurt. She would wake up early and start her daily chores. It was good that she had these diversions. It made the going easier. 

Seema grew up thinking she will stand on her own feet. It never occurred to her that she could just be a homemaker or a house, as it was called then. In college she said, royally, "Even if my marital family does not need my income, I would still like to earn. I love gifting so much!" She did not know she had it in her head somewhere that her marital family would not need her earning! Or she did not recognize. She grew up in a family where the father earned and the mother tended the house. She wanted to work but did not think much about income. Although her family situation was otherwise. Her parents did not save much and they did not have much parental property, these made it important that she earned to support them. She did not think of this while struggling to make the ends meet in her highly subsidized college hostel. She was married even before her first salary reached home. She got her salary in cash for the first year. Later when she started getting cheques, it used to be deposited in her husband's account. It was a joint account with her Husband as the principal holder. She could not care less. She loved her husband. Her husband loved her. They had a wonderful time together. Not that there was no friction, but she learnt to carefully avoid them. She was a keen learner. 

Punita's husband sent money home to his parents regularly. This was a cause of tension between the couple. Punita resented it as she clearly worked more, earned more and saw her three children in need as this money was sent home. Whatever she saved over months, bit by bit, in her saree's folds, in the old tin box, in the pot near idol of Laxmi, would be either found or she would be beaten black and blue until it was taken out and given to her husband, either for his regular drinks or to be sent to his parents. His parents owned land and some silver. Punita was regularly threatened that this silver would be sold if she did not part with her money. She thought her children's future needs depend on saving that silver and complied. Once she had put together Rs 10,000, a princely sum in the beginning of year 2000. Her husband wanted to send all that home. Every single penny. When she tried to take away Rs 100 from it saying she wanted to buy some savory for her children to eat, her husband threw all the money on the floor and threatened her of dire consequences. He said, he would leave her. He would call her father and in front of him, he would denounce her forever. She could then take her Rs 100 and her three children with her. She cried the whole night but gave away all her money. She cried and sought forgiveness for daring to keep the money. She knew her father would not have kept her anyway. Next day when she went to her usual houses to do the dishes, one of the "madam"s asked about her wounds. She was asked then to get some pictures from home and this madam helped her open a bank account. A joint account with madam at first and within a month an account of her own. She put every bit of money that she saved in it. She did not know how to read and write but she had a sharp brain. When another madam started a literacy class she joined and learned fast. She can now read her passbook and know how much is saved there. Her husband can not. A few years later, her elder daughter took out the passbook out and read loudly, "Mother has 50,000 in her bank!" Her husband heard it. He asked her to part with the money for his sister's wedding but this time she did not. He beat her with bricks. She had a big wound on her forehead. She did not know from where she came up with this logic but shouted, "Kill me! All the money will be taken away by the government. You will not get it all the same." The next morning she was threatened that the silver would be sold. She could not care less this time. "Go ahead!" she said. 

Seema meanwhile gave birth to a daughter. She was too happy to fulfill her parents in law's ambition to become grandparents, However, she really struggled to keep her job. With a small child, in a town where much help was not available for women who worked outside home, each day presented a new challenge to her. The fact that her daughter did not keep good health only added to her troubles. It put considerable strain on the relationship too. Once she had a big fight with her husband. She wanted to read a book for some time and when she raised her eyes to see, her daughter was given ice cubes to chew on. Ice cubes to an asthmatic! Who does that! She was furious. And threw the glass snatching it away from the child. She shook her child hard and picked her to go to the other room. Book was left where it was. She never looked back at that book for that night turned her life upside down. Her husband came to the room and shut the door. He broke a few things to show how angry he was because how she behaved in front of his parents. Seema tried to smile, "Stop creating a scene!" He snarled baring his teeth. "Its no make belief. Its real. Get out with your daughter from my house. Go back to your father. Do whatever you like but do not show me your face." She was stunned as she heard her much loved husband rambling, "All that I have bought with my money, I would take with me. You can take your daughter." In that dark night, Seema realized for the first time, after 4 years of working outside home and being married, she had nothing to her name. If she really had to leave that night, she did not know how she could have survived. She cried the whole night and begged forgiveness. For what? I do not think she was sure. However, she knew she had to stay there. Her father would not have helped her in any case. It would have only added insult to the injury to get him involved who would have surely brought her back to the same house. She traveled to headquarters for work soon. She asked a male colleague to help her open an account for her. She had no identity proof and no address proof. The bank declined opening an account. Her male colleague suggested the same route. A joint account first and then a single account. Seema put her mind into accounts for the first time. It was the first time she decided to bother about her salary and where it is deposited. 

Seema and Punita, two women, and many other women like them, who never meet, never share their stories, who are so different, yet so similar in the lives they live and the lessons they learn about themselves, the people around them and money! May all their stories have a happy ending!

A lay person's account of mental illness

I was reading the latest post (http://bellejar.ca/2014/08/18/airing-my-dirty-laundry/ ) on a blog I follow and found these lines:. "For many people with mental illness, talking about it is the first step they take to recovering. But they’re not going to talk about it if no one else talks about it, you know?"

...and it got me thinking. Did not one of my favorite bloggers miss an important step? How about admitting to themselves first that they have a problem? Then comes talking about it, right? But then I could not agree more when she said "Everyone knows that mental illness exists; everyone knows the devastating effect that it can have, both on the people suffering from it and their friends and families. This is not new information – it’s something that we’ve known forever and ever. But the hush-hush way we’ve developed of discussing it and dealing with it clearly aren’t working. So let’s finally start talking about it, because that’s the only chance that we have of beating it."

Thank you for raising it. Let's talk about it. I would also talk about caregivers. And the supposed caregivers. Because to be a caregiver you need a person to at least vaguely recognise he/she is in need of care. Here the one in need often denies being in need. I had some first hand and some borrowed experience. Some I knew completely denied any existence of any problem. The others had inkling from time to time. And some others sought regular treatment.

 The other day, my friend wrote from USA. Her friend needs support. This girl's parents are severely depressed. They did not like to wash up now anymore. They were blocking everyone even hinting at getting support. Instead they want their only daughter to divorce her husband, leave her children in USA, come back and stay with them to take care. No. She can not come for a short duration to help them. They think their only daughter being away is the most unnatural thing that could have happened to anyone and feel most justified in feeling a sadness that crippled their everyday life. If this can not be corrected, they would like to remain sad. 

A friend of mine was constantly pushed to get married by his father who blamed his depression on this friend. His bad mood had only one cure; my friend's marriage. I wish it was this easy. We talked about the ridiculousness of it knowing there were far deeper reasons. Now that his father is no more, I know the loving son that my friend is, he would feel the pinch of this unfulfilled wish. However much he knew that his marriage was no way responsible for his father's sadness.

Another friend's mother suffered from bipolarity. She also lived two lives between her workplace and home. In her college she was very popular. At home she was a monster whom all of us feared. Our friend had a pretty horrible childhood. She literally ran away to another city in pretext of work as soon as she could get a degree. Just to get rid of that killing negativity. Her mother held this against her till she was alive. She called her selfish for choosing to work outside that city. No. Her mother was not a single woman. Now that her mother is no more following a massive heart attack, this friend examines and re-examines whether she was really selfish in leaving her parents behind? She often tries to picture her mother as a nice, warm, loving woman in her conversations with us.  Some of us have been with her through this journey and find it hard to take. However, we hear her patiently and keep our sighs well hidden. It may be her way of coping. We often wonder whether she needs help.

Then there is that identified someone who is the root of all the problems. This identified person changes from time to time but it is always someone else. At times more than one. And that is part of the illness, right? The person sees the source of all his happiness and sorrows outside himself. Someone else causes them. Everything that she does is done for others. Every time he feels bad is because of situations created by others. She feels constantly controlled by others. He feels constantly pulled into other's agenda. Its a tough life. Can you even imagine living that nightmare? Its a struggle to wake yourself up everyday. To get ready. To go to a office that you hate. Especially when all you want is to sleep. Scary. Isn't it? 

But, have you tried sitting on the seat of those supposedly creating this unhappiness? Being those who are constantly causing pain? Or being those who have pushed them to do these terrible things that they are not happy about? And tolerate this almost forever? Then you would know what I am talking about. Have you tried to make things alright? In all your naivete somehow believed if you find a solution to this one problem, things will be better? Have you constantly tried to change your life, curbed your idea of happiness, limited your ideas of living because you wanted to see the other person happy? And have you given up, finally? After years of trying to make someone happy and then trying to help recognizing the issue and then trying to take them to a doctor and trying to make them follow the treatment plan and giving up, finally? Have you run for your life? Have you felt so sucked into that environment of negativity that the only way to live, seemed to run? Or have you accepted their wish and let them move away? Then you know what I am talking about. At the same  time you also know that if they seek help at a moment of desperation,  you will stand there again. You will run to be of help. 

If you have gone through any one set of these experiences, you would appreciate it so much that there is movement to recognize depression as a major illness. Depression however, is the most treatable of all the mental illnesses. It has the best prognosis. Please seek professional help. Do not self diagnose. Do not prescribe medicines to each other. Counselors being churned out of short courses scare the hell out of me. More so when I hear experiences of some of my courageous friends who have tried to visit a so called psychological counselor in India. Please take good advice. As people discuss depression, I would also urge all of you to raise consciousness about other mental illnesses.  There is not enough awareness on other mental illnesses like bipolarity. It does not have a good prognosis, especially if the patient is non cooperative. Or the DSM II category issues. Popping a pill will not help always. That brings me back to the caregivers. There is tremendous pressure on them. Unsolicited advice is part of their every day life. They are made to feel guilty about the unhappiness of their spouses. It is in any case difficult to manage a patient who is not cooperating and not responsive. Its not only a thankless job, a caregiver often finds himself or herself completely isolated from the patient. She/he gets blocked out. And the pressure of keeping the household going with children, senior members in need of care is so much that one feels one would break down any time. Therefore the caregivers need good advice too. They need support too. There is a need for support group for caregivers, where you can discuss feeling wretched in a guilt free manner and get support. Do they exist?