Stress is what the modern race offers us along with various other achievements: the race to become legendary, the race to become rich or the race to become famous. And everyone seems to be chasing it. But who is guaranteed the success? Even if we give all of us or put in everything in our control, we lose sometimes. We fail sometimes. But what does that mean? We pack our bags, and embark on a journey to live in isolation? Or the simple way: do we end our lives?
Suicide: to end one's life, to end the little hope that exists, to extinguish the little light that is burning at the end of the dark tunnel. What possibly could be the trigger? What possibly could have driven us to this decision?
Suicide happens a lot in India. There are many reasons, many igniting factors, but the one I would like to focus is the non ability to accept failure. Depressing thoughts that follows the failure, the feeling of despair that surrounds us after we have been unable to reach a career goal can be intimidating, but that doesn't mean we succumb to the failure. We can't lose our life to it.
But what is the shame in failure? The real shame doesn't lie in failure; the real shame is not trying. The saying can never grow old, "Jaan Hai to Jahan Hai!" There might be no alternative visible, there might be no sounds audible, but if we persevere and find it, there is nothing impossible.
If you ever find yourself contemplating suicide, take help. Talk to a therapist. "An aeroplane takes off against all odds, against the winds," thus find your worth. The parents should understand too. A periodic talk can bring a change. To know of your kids' mental state, and to take depression as serious problem, and to channel their energy in the right direction can be things to start with. Many people can't talk to their family members because they fear that their family might judge them. It's a lot easier to talk to a stranger. If you are unable to talk to a known, there are various help lines.
We should work to see our worth. We should know that we're important. In this all, I couldn't help but wonder: when did we cease to recognize our worth?
;t*
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Stories from A Troubled Boy
Non-Fiction..and I was different. "He is weird," said my seniors, tone redolent with mockery. And nicknames began. I have now lost count of the names. There are many, and it reached my home. My single mother was worried about who I was going to be. Though...
