Of Deepika Padukone and the battle against depression: awe and support

Courtesy: hdwallpaperscool.com

“We talk about all kinds of aliments [sic], but this is probably one of the deadliest mental disorders. Nothing, including life, makes sense to people suffering from it”; thus spake Deepika Padukone, heartthrob of a billion, to Hindustan Times.

Deepika has admitted that she suffered from acute depression (acting in Happy New Year was not the reason).* The lady who had bowled me over in Om Shanti Om with her vivacity, who was so full of life, the woman with one of the most disarming smiles, was actually a victim of depression without the world knowing.

And she has been honest about it. No pretensions. Nothing. Coming out of the closet does not mean admitting an affair. Coming out of the closet is more about winning an affair against demons. Like depression.

But then, so was Robin Williams. The funniest and most cheerful people are often the saddest ones. Throughout his life Robin Williams played the cheery loner on screen; we failed to understand he had been playing himself all along.

It is a fact we will read and choose to ignore till it concerns us some day, simply because we think it is a luxury one can afford if the person

(a) has time and money, or

(b) does not have any responsibility to deal with.

Makes it sound like a trip to Mauritius or Seychelles or wherever Blue was shot, does it not?

Wrong.

This is (copy-pasted) exactly what Deepika had to face herself: “How can you be depressed? You have everything going for you. You are the supposed number one heroine and have a plush home, car, movies. What else do you want?” Does this sound familiar?

I said this immediately after Robin Williams had passed away: depression is an ogre that nobody barring you agrees to acknowledge. The worst bit is, you would want people — someone who loves you and cares for you — to surround you, to talk to you, to listen to you, to hold you, only to realise that they do not have the time; or intent.

It is then that the battle starts — one against the worst conceivable feeling. Consider this: you will not have a wound to show; you will not run a temperature; you will not need to go for scans or blood tests; and yet it will keep eating you from inside.

In other words, you will be withering away without anyone knowing.

Let us see what Deepika's experience (I never imagined I would quote Deepika, but here you go): “Every morning, it was a struggle to wake up...There were days when I would feel okay, but at times, within a day, there was a roller-coaster of feelings.”

She hated waking up in the morning. This is not the usual Monday morning blues — it happens on Saturday mornings as well. That is what depression does to you. Every day starts with a horrible empty feeling that the day ahead of you is going to be a useless one. Even if you wake up, you need to drag yourself out of bed.

Every day. Every day. Even your birthday.

Depression can make you cry, just like that, when you drop a bar of soap in the shower (no, using shower gel will not solve this) or you lose a pencil or whatever.

Depression can make you crave for being understood, to be held, even if for a minute. The longing does not happen all the while, but it does not go away completely either.  

What do you do once you hate waking up every day and do not feel like doing anything?

You feel your existence is futile.

What do you do if you feel your existence is futile?

You get suicidal thoughts.

What do you do if you get suicidal thoughts?

You do not want me to spell that out, do you?

That is what depression can do to you, and it will be too late if that happens.

But, what do you do if you get suicidal thoughts and are too weak to take your life? What if even the suicide seems futile?

That is what depression can also do to you, except that it will not be too late.

So, if you think you suffer from depression, do not hesitate. Go to a doctor before it is too late. Counselling may not help completely, but it will help improve things. At least you will know there is someone who will listen to you patiently, even if for money.

But there will be a stage after which counselling will refuse to work.

It is then that the medicines will come in. You may be scared of being addicted to them, but you will not be addicted. If you do not believe me, read up; look at Deepika, who has been coping brilliantly since she recovered. She had taken a two-month break, but is back in full swing.

Anxiety,Depression and Panic Attacks are not signs of weakness.They are signs of trying to remain strong for way too long.
— Deepika Padukone (@deepikapadukone) December 31, 2014

Do not give up. On the other hand, do not try to act too strong, for you will never know when you spill over the brink. Remember:

1. Consulting a psychiatrist does not make you a mad person. Go. Do not delay. A day’s delay can be detrimental, and may push recovery by a month.

2. Just because friends do not reach out to you during depression does not mean they are avoiding you. It can have to do with the fact that they do not understand — which is perfectly feasible. Tell people. There is no harm. You never know who the person is.

3. Do not wait for those arms to come to you. Maybe they will not. Keep trying. Reach out for the world.

4. Anti-depressants do not kill people. In fact, a cause for clinical depression is chemical imbalance, and there is no other cure if that is indeed the cause.

5. Do not try to fight depression. Accept it instead, and find a way around it. It is a demon that needs to be killed slowly. You cannot hurry things and cannot be impatient.

6. Most importantly, depression is nothing to be ashamed about. It happens.

Here is what World Health Organisation had to say on the topic as early as in 2001: “If we take the example of depression which is currently ranked fourth among the 10 leading causes of the global burden of disease, it is predicted that by the year 2020, it will have jumped to second place.”

If it is predicted to be at number two in five years’ time, why be ashamed? Why stay in a closet? There are solutions. Come out. Seek them out. Find out others who have been through this. Seek their help. Change your physician, if required. 

But solve it. And once you are done, help others come out. Be the helping hand to them that you never had when you needed. Hold their hands. Hold them tight. Who better than you to cure others?

WE are not alone...
— Deepika Padukone (@deepikapadukone) December 31, 2014

You have vowed to solve this, Deepika. Whatever your team does to eradicate this, I am with you on this (I am sure you will not be reading this, so it will really not matter to you, but just in case) — simply because there are few things in the world as cool as helping others overcome depression.

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* Farah Khan, I am still loyal to you; still; I remember Main Hoon Na and Om Shanti Om and forgive you for Happy New Year. Anyone who has given an Om Shanti Om is a legend despite everything else.

Robin Williams: random thoughts

Courtesy: Somewhere on the internet

Dear Robin Williams:

If you did not believe you were funny, you should have watched yourself react to what you did while watching your own movies. They (I have no idea who this “they” refers to, but it sounded cool when I wrote it) did not take you as seriously as they took, say, Al Pacino, but then, they never saw The World According to Garp, which was possibly your finest performance till date.

Garp, as John Irving had taught us, was to be taken seriously. And you were the Garpest of all possible Garps that had ever existed in Garposphere. It was not before yesterday, however, that I realised that being Garp was not a challenge for you: in a way you were Garp.

***

PS:

This is the last time I am using the name Garp in this email. I won’t be Garping about it anymore.

***

PPS:

Sorry. This time I am serious.

***

But this email is not another fan mail. I guess you have received more fan mails than the number of minutes I have lived till date, so there is no point.

We did not know who you were. We knew about you. We did not know you.

***

PS:

When I say “we” I assume there are others.

***

Let us move on, then. While you were making the entire world laugh there was something else going on. Along with Billy Crystal and Whoopi Goldberg, you had co-hosted Comic Relief’s maiden fundraiser; you were actually multitasking, rehearsing for the fundraiser, as Good Will Hunting, Patch Adams, and Deconstructing Harry released in the same year.

Let us not digress. We all laughed at your antics on screen, but as Greatbong has pointed out, we had failed to realise at the staggering number of times you have played a “morbidly lonely” character, with “morbidly” being the keyword.

Laughing is difficult. Making others laugh is difficult.

Crying is difficult as well unless you’re Sukhen Das (Tollywood alert). Making others cry is difficult as well.

Making others laugh and cry at the same time is nigh-impossible, and you were a master of that art, Robin.

Then you hanged yourself. Just like that. They said you were suffering from depression. They have already moved on after RIPping social media and mentioning how you have made them laugh and why depression is crucial.

I wonder how many of them really understood you. I wonder how many get what depression actually is.

***

Note:

Unless mentioned, Robin, “you” would not refer to you anymore. I am addressing goodness-knows-who from now on. When I refer to you again, I will mention.

***

Let me cut things short: depression is a demon; it is just that it stays inside you and it’s extremely difficult to counter what is inside you (neither Kalashnikovs nor Uday Chopra movies seem to work under such circumstances).

But depression is not just a random internal demon: it is an ogre that nobody barring you agrees to acknowledge. There are times when you will be told that depression is a state of mind that can be overcome with a flick of the thumb.

You will have to get accustomed to two kinds of reactions:

1. Depression is a luxury not anyone can afford.

2. You’re depressed because you do not have enough responsibility (which is somewhat synonymous to “an idle brain is a devil’s workshop”).

Then they move on. You feel like reaching out to them, desperately wanting them to talk to you. Then you realise that there is nothing to talk to and they are busy and you are acting dumb and they are doing you a favour but you still want them to do that favour and you realise that they are confused because you have nothing to tell them and yet you have a lot to tell and time passes by and since you get the feeling that they are getting tired of the entire thing you get into a shell that becomes impregnable with every passing day.

Once you reach that stage you do not want the others to break in. Then that shell becomes a mask. And then you realise that laughter is the most indestructible of all masks that have ever existed, for who would suspect that a man who laughs and makes others laugh can actually be the most depressed soul around?

Thus, the mask gets stronger; and harder; with every passing moment; and then, when the maggots start eating into the flesh and all you are left with is the mask. The “you” in you ceases to exist. The world never gets to know that there is no face behind the smiling mask; the fact that the mask is mocking at them; and they laugh their way to glory.

One can easily dish out statistics regarding the number of people suffering from depression at this time with some research, but it will be a futile effort: this is merely a guess, but I strongly suspect most people suffering from depression refuse to come out of the closet. They think it is a sign of weakness, and it is a widely accepted notion that being weak is being un-cool, especially for grown-ups.

***

Note:

Robin, I will be addressing you from now on. You may choose to ignore, though. A lone voice may easily get drowned.

***

When you made us laugh and cry at the same time, Robin, we thought you were acting. We thought it was the usual mask actors put on in front of the camera. We never realised that you were not. We were morons. We never realised that you never needed to act in any of the movies. Even in Patch Adams.

You were unhappy. You put up a mask. We thought it was an artificial mask. We never realised the mask was a real one. When we did realise, it was too late.

Not that it would have mattered. Depression, after all, is a luxury people with a lot of free time can afford. You are not the first, though.

Charley Case (sometimes referred to as the man who had started stand-up comedy) was an introvert off the stage, had suffered a nervous breakdown, and had died “while cleaning a revolver”.

Darrell Hammond (of Saturday Night Live fame) had memories of being brutally abused by his mother in his childhood. He attempted suicide at 19, went to rehabs following substance abuse. He also suffered from bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and borderline personality disorder. He had also tried to cut himself backstage during a Saturday Night Live episode and on another occasion had to be taken to the show directly from the psychiatric ward.

The ebullient Chris Farley (also of Saturday Night Live fame; he was also shortlisted to play the lead in A Confederacy of Dunces) was treated for obesity and drug abuse seventeen times. Seventeen. He died of cocaine and morphine overdose. He was 33.

Katt Williams (nominated Choice Comedian for Teen Choice Awards in 2007) became a marijuana addict. He went into rows with audience, and worse, missed shows, changed religion twice, and called himself a “social recluse” in an interview with New York Times. He has given up making others laugh because it conflicted with his health: he could not conceal it anymore.

You could, Robin; until you could not anymore.

Let me do something, for once, that I seldom do: quote someone else.

“Eighty percent of comedians come from a place of tragedy. They didn’t get enough love. They have to overcome their problems by making people laugh.” — Jamie Masada, owner, Laugh Factory (a comedy club based in Los Angeles).

You did not run away. You are not an escapist, Robin. You are a superhero who merely chose to move away from us. Just like Hercules. We have never deserved you.

A fan.