CHAPTER 6: Breaking and Rebuilding

A Parent’s Perspective (again)

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Ramesh sighed again as he grudgingly got in the car. Did the principal HAVE to set up this therapy rubbish on the day of the India-Pakistan cricket match?? He’d even taken the day off so he could watch the match. Therapy was only for trauma and actually important things, not mere laziness! He resolved to watch the game on Youtube later. 

When he reached the school, the halls were deserted. At this time, the students would all be on the bus, on their way home to watch the cricket game. He was so lost in his maudlin self-pity about the match that he nearly crossed the door to the counsellor’s room. That one plywood door that he scoffed at every time he saw it. He never dreamt that he would ever need to enter that room. He noticed that brown-haired grumpy Italian guy Ayesha kept hanging out with, sitting on a sofa outside the door. Must be waiting for his turn, thought Ramesh with a smirk. What was his name? Alexander or something no? He seemed… different somehow, less morose maybe. He ignored Alexander’s wave, as he sighed for what felt like the 12th time that hour. He opened the door. 

The bright interior was far removed from the sad-looking door. It looked like a lounge mixed with a play area. Not what he imagined a counsellor’s room to look like. There were plants in the corners, pictures on the walls, and a drawing board. At the centre of the room sat a large round wooden table with two couch chairs on either side. There was also a stuffed lion, who looked almost as downcast as the person holding it: Ayesha. Across from her, facing the door, was a middle-aged woman with blonde hair who was presumably the counsellor. He had entered in the middle of a conversation.

“...so yeah, that’s what happened as I cut-” said Ayesha.

“Oh! Welcome! You must be Mr Venugopal, I am Ms Longe. I’m the school counsellor, as you may have guessed. We’ve already been introduced,” the woman said, gesturing across at Ayesha.

“DaAaAd, what are you doing here???” Exclaimed Ayesha, who was apparently not informed of his visit. She gave a betrayed look to Ms Longe.

“I don’t know either. The principal asked me to be here.”

“Why don’t you join us? Sit down, have a cup of tea,” she said calmly, pouring out a cup from her thermos. 

He glowered as he sat down and took the cup. He could feel the warm steam condensing on his face. 

There was a pause before the counsellor said pensively, “Ayesha just told me what she has been experiencing. Now I would like to hear your perspective.”

“Huh?”

“As in, have you noticed anything that suggests your daughter might have a mental health disorder? Her experiences suggest something like that, but your perspective is needed before we can conclude.”

Ramesh was perplexed, did she mean depression and anxiety and all? Those are so rare, right? How could she even think to believe this nonsense!? Ayesha can’t have one of those… right? 

“No, no. Our household is perfectly normal and happy, right Ayesha?”

Ayesha looked around shiftily, and it seemed like she wanted to evaporate then and there. 

“I think it would be important for you to hear her out and acknowledge her feelings. Irrespective of your beliefs towards mental health, awareness of our children’s mental state is necessary. 

“Okay. Ayesha is fine. She seems somewhat tired, but that’s because she doesn’t sleep when she’s supposed to; the other night, I saw her up at quarter to one, two hours past her bedtime, playing with the cat! Anything she’s telling you is probably because of exam stress. She gets sad more often, but it goes away. There isn’t anything to worry about. She’ll be back to normal after exams!” 

“Of course I’m stressed! My boards are next month, and you expect nothing short of 95% in math AND science; my least favourite subjects! How am I supposed to NOT be stressed!”

He had it with this girl. Couldn’t she understand that he was going EASY on her compared to other parents? Didn’t she see the benefits of what he was making her do? Didn’t she see that he was just trying to help!?

“Oh yeah!? When I was your age, I had to get 95% in all my subjects, or I would get beaten up! On top of that, I had to prepare for my engineering entrance exam!! I HATED ENGINEERING! Your generation can’t even comprehend how tough studies were! And I had to bear that with a smile, A SMILE,” he exclaimed saltily. 

Ms Longe smiled soothingly. “Couldn't have been easy,” she said. “Mood or interest changes that last a long time must be taken seriously, as they can indicate depression. These could be due to stress, a change in context, a loss, or even just a hormonal imbalance. Do not confuse sadness with depression. While sadness is a symptom, it’s not the only one. Others include a lack of energy and focus and a complete loss of interest in old hobbies. And these symptoms must be consistently seen for several months.”

Now that he thought about it, Ayesha had entirely stopped gaming. He was pretty sure it was because of exams, though.

"You may have missed this, but from what I have put together, Ayesha is not feeling well emotionally and may be going through depression. She needs help,“ stated Longe, maintaining her infuriatingly calm demeanour. 

Does she think I’m stupid!? Does she think she, who has just met my daughter a few minutes back, knows more about her than me? Her father? He was seething now. He had enough!

“EY YOU VELLAI-KAARA*! WHAT IS THIS DEPRESSION BULLSHIT??” He yelled, practically bursting with fury. ”I DIDN’T COME ALL THE WAY HERE JUST TO HEAR YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR HOITY-TOITY WESTERN RICH-PEOPLE CRAP!!“ Every one of his words was laced with frothing, acidic outrage.

*tamil for white man (written as: வெள்ளைக்கார)

“DAD-” An appalled Ayesha tried to interject.

Longe tried to maintain her professional mask. However, she did let slip an expression of suppressed shock! “Sir, calm down. It is not exclusively a western concept by any means. In fact, India leads the world in teenage depression AND in youth suicide rates. Nearly 1 in 4 teenagers here suffers from depression, and one Indian student dies by suicide every hour. It is a very grave issue - as serious as any physical ailment. When you get home, search it up. There are plenty of articles out there. If you can’t trust google, please trust me. I have a masters in psychology. ” Arrey yaar! Of COURSE she had to spew all this master’s- degree research mumbo jumbo at him!

“In addition, setting unnecessarily high expectations is bound to lead to stress and burnout, which can negatively impact productivity. “

Hmmph… so she’s going to fall for Ayesha’s sob stories too. Time to share the real story.

“Of course you would say some stupid nonsense like that! Ayesha’s just doing this to get out of work and to get attention! She’s too lazy to take even the most basic suggestions to improve her condition! She refuses to even go outside for fresh air and sun, yet she complains and whines about how her problems don’t go away! These problems aren’t going away because she doesn’t want them to! She wants to use them as an out from difficult tasks. She does this all the time; she’s faked fever to skip school more times than I can count! I know my daughter better than you!”

“You don’t understand how hard it is!” Exclaimed Ayesha, who was clearly affronted. He could see her pained expression, but Ramesh just wanted the lie to end at this point.

“Do you believe this is a surface issue? I think Ayesha has some evidence to the contrary.”

Huh? What “evidence” would she have told this stranger that she wouldn’t have told her father?

“Go on Ayesha, tell me about this so-called evidence,” said Ramesh. Ayesha was also looking as perplexed as he felt.

“Oh no, it’s best shown, not told. I would advise you to brace yourself. Ayesha, get up and roll up your sleeves.” 

Ayesha jumped, and that cornered-deer expression from the other night reappeared in a flash. Ramesh wondered if she was referring to the cat scratches… wait, were they even cat scratches?

Reluctantly, she rolled up the sleeves of her black hoodie, and there they were, the cuts from that night, all dried up like scars of battle. Some of them were hastily bandaged. On closer inspection, they looked neat, almost artistic. More like furrows in a field than something an angry animal would do. 

“Th-these are cat scratches only right? …right?”

Ayesha looked petrified, on the verge of shattering into thousands of tiny shards. She slowly shook her head.

The force of that shake of her head hit him like a truck. What!? No. No. NO. Ayesha? Self-harm??? It can’t be… Why didn’t she tell me??? 

It felt like all the trust they had built came crashing down like a Jenga tower. You could have talked to me! We could’ve handled this together long ago! Why did you have to lie about it!?!? 

Those were all the things he wanted to say. He wanted to go and hug her, and tell her it’ll be okay, but he was paralyzed to the chair in slack-jawed silence. He could not remove his eyes from those ugly streaks of crimson.

Ms Longe was the first to break the suffocating silence.

“Mr Puri found these marks on her hand and took her to the principal, who then called you and me. These are clearly self-inflicted cuts.”

“Ayesha…”

Ramesh had to strain to pronounce every syllable; as though a serpent had coiled around his throat.

“…why?”

==========

That was it. Ayesha couldn’t bear this anymore. What’s wrong with self-harm!? It only hurts me and nobody else. So then WHY do Ms Longe and Mr Puri and Mr Pal and Dad act like it’s such a big deal!? WHY does dad look like he was kicked in the gut - like I kicked him in the gut!? WHY does this room feel like a damn funeral!? WHY CAN’T THEY JUST LET ME BE!?

With that thought, she burst into tears. 

She had been carefully crafting a facade of composure for years now, a fort of sorts, and this was the cannonball that crumbled it down. She had been tied together with a smile for so long, and now it was all coming undone. 

She clutched the stuffed lion so tight that her knuckles whitened. Her vision was so blurred with the waterfalls of all her sorrows and anxieties and guilt that she didn’t notice Appa getting up until he wrapped her in his bear-like embrace.

===========

After Ayesha regained some sort of composure, Ramesh let go and returned to his chair. Sssssp, the counsellor sipped her tea, which radiated a scent similar to warm cake. 

“I-I think I’m ready to continue,” said Ayesha in a shaky voice.

“Okay, now that we’re on the same page, we can talk about the way forward.”

“Okay,” said Ramesh, who was not entirely okay with the idea of continuing. He was too shaken. He gulped down some tea to compose himself.

“For you Ayesha, you should take some of your Dad’s suggestions: go outside for half an hour every day, and sleep for 8+ hours daily too. It won’t be 100% effective, but it helps some. Most importantly, you have to be more open. It’s not healthy to bottle this up, and there’s no reason to either.”

“Mr Venugopal, you should seek professional help for her. This could be from a therapist, who would counsel her or a psychiatrist, who can prescribe medication if necessary. Try different things and see what helps. It is paramount to find a person she gels with and trusts. Also, she will need your support and understanding. I would recommend not underestimating your and your wife’s roles as parents. You should first inform Mrs Venugopal about our conversation.” Arey, he thought, they would have to have this painful conversation with Ayesha’s Mom. He sighed yet again. 

“Always be vigilant for any signs of her condition worsening. You must be supportive and listen if she needs to talk about something. If she seems to be lapsing back into old habits, give her a gentle nudge. Keep researching anxiety and ways you can help. I will send you a few articles now. Also, don’t be so harsh on her. 

A big concern for him at that point was the reactions of others. Without the rude awakening he got, he never would’ve taken any of this seriously, so how could he expect his family to NOT mock her condition?

As if she read his mind, Ms Longe said:

“You both may be wondering about what your friends and family will think. Remember, mood disorders are not specific to one culture or country. If they do not believe you, you have the data to back you up. Having depression or anxiety is not shameful or weak at all. Admitting to them is the strongest thing you can do and is the first step towards healing. You should treat them like you would any serious physical ailments. “

Ms Longe leaned back in her armchair.

“Well, I think that’s all for today.“

Phew! Finally, this rollercoaster of a session was over. It was… something. 

“I must thank you, Ms Longe, for this eye-opening conversation. I-I never knew any of this. Also, I must apologise for my... erm.. outburst earlier.”

“Then I’d say that this session has been successful! And no worries about the argument. I’m used to it,” Longe said with a chuckle.

“Thanks, Miss Longe. I’ll see you next week,” Ayesha said.

As they left the room, he noticed that Alexander guy get up from the sofa, grin at Ayesha, and enter the room. The door shut behind him. Ramesh looked back at the plywood door with new-found appreciation. 

“Oh what’s Alessandro doing here?” Ayesha said, looking back. So that’s his name. Ramesh felt slightly sheepish, but not really.

“Hey, we need to talk to Amma when she gets back from work,” he said, dreading the prospect.

Ayesha shrugged. “Yeah… I know. It’s okay, though. I don’t think it’ll be so bad. But don’t you wanna watch the match?”

Ramesh smiled and put his arm on her shoulder. 

“Maybe. But this is more important.”

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