Learning To Embrace Anxiety

It is 30th December 2023 as I sit to pen my reflections of the last two years - 2022 and 2023. Two intense years of my life. However, I cannot reflect on these two years unless I talk about a significant shift in my very being. 

2022 started on a great note. It was the end of the pandemic, and the world was beginning to move forward. I could not wait to get back to my travels and reconnect with all the inspiring people in my life across the world. The first half of 2022 took me to Austria, Jerusalem, Tanzania and Zanzibar. It included many local trips to Delhi, Jharkhand and Nagaland. I was back after the long hibernation of the pandemic and eager to go. 

My body wasn't. After a second bout of COVID in-between my travels, I did not stop and surged ahead. While my body was hurting and ill, I pushed through my travels to Jerusalem, Tanzania and Zanzibar and finally a week in Nagaland. My mind was driven, my body was cracking. I remember coming back from Nagaland and my body collapsed completely as I had a complete nervous breakdown. I developed intense anxiety and for two months, I was too scared to step out of my own home. 

I remember stepping out for a haircut to a salon twenty metres away from home and I was shit scared, I was palpitating, developing intense body pain, my stomach was churning, I was sweating profusely, and I felt like it was the end of the world. It took me many many months before I could step back to a salon without an anxiety attack. 

On another occasion, I was catching up with a dear friend for lunch about one hundred metres from home. The anxiety started building up from the morning of our meetup. I met her at noon and my body was already in high alert mode. Joint pains, palpitations, intense headache, breathlessness and a feeling of doomsday. Within 15-minutes, I could not sit there anymore, and I needed her to drop me home. It took a few hours after that incident to find my bearings again.

While I have been living and dealing with depression for a few years now. This was new. I did not understand any of this. I have never felt like this before, ever. Who am I becoming? What is happening to me? I felt something was terribly wrong with me and I could not figure out what? I started cancelling on meeting with friends, work meetings in person, visiting parents and being in social situations. The fear gripped me. The fear of, 'I don't know what will happen if I step out so its best I stay at home.' I was scared, very scared. 

This also resulted in multiple medical complications and aggravation of old issues. My stomach could not hold food down during an anxiety episode. Vertigo was back with a vengeance. Migraine attacks, body pain, cramping of the joints, high BP and Cholesterol, low B12 and D3 and extreme fatigue. We would address one issue, and another would crop up.

In July 2022, I had intense pain in my abdomen and after 3 extremely painful days, I found out that I had kidney stones. I was in the hospital for pain management in the morning and we had a book launch of my maiden book of poetry, 'My Soul Stirring' the same evening. It was a surreal weird day. 

New doctors, many medical tests, multiple medical complications, tons of new medications and I was drained - physically, mentally and emotionally. My doctor said it aptly, 'Your body is carrying so much trauma and stress that it has lost all ability to manage any stress at all.' Taking day-to-day decisions, stepping out of the home, meeting family and friends, responding to emails, meeting deadlines, daily news and any kind of conflict would trigger bouts of anxiety. Even something as simple as taking a decision of a meal preference was causing anxiety. 

I was embarrassed to step out. I did not want to tell people I am dealing with anxiety. I did not want to embarrass myself in social situations with wanting to leave abruptly so I stayed at home. Stepping out now meant carrying a whole lot of medicines, SOS tablets for anxiety and my partner accompanying me. 

Work took a backseat, and I was barely able to keep up with commitments. I had a beautifully sensitive team of colleagues who understood, never asked questions and supported me. There would be days when I would just sleep through the day. I would get up, have a meal, catch-up on a few emails and then exhaustion would take over. I would sleep again. I was constantly tired like my body needed all the rest I could grab. 

My partner, able doctors, therapists and I worked through it all of 2022 and I was getting visibly better. Therapy, medications and counsel of good doctors helped me get through the year and slowly rebuild my resilience. The medications began to work and calm my body down. It involved tons of rest and accepting that I needed it and could not feel guilty for it. It involved learning to say 'NO' and it involved accepting that I am dealing with anxiety, and I had to embrace it if I wanted to change it. I had to learn to not make anxiety my identity but look at it as a medical problem that can be resolved. I had to learn to normalise it and talk about it without guilt and shame. This was the toughest. I had to learn to prioritise my needs over the needs of my partner, family, work, friends and others. I was getting better.

Cut to February 2023, my father had a stroke, and he was in hospital for 5 1/2 months until we lost him. During those months, I along with my family had to be there for him every single day and that unfortunate life event propelled me out of my anxiety as I spent every day in hospital with him, caring for him and being there for him as he dealt with the complexities of his life situation. 

I believe that the nervous breakdown came into my life, at the time it did, to help me stop, slow down, take a pause and prioritise my wellbeing so I could be strong and available for my dad when he fell ill. If I had continued in my old ways, I would have probably committed to multiple international engagements and would not have been there for my dad. If I had the nervous breakdown when I dad fell ill, I would not have been able to care for him and support my family through this crisis. The nervous breakdown and the anxiety happened when it happened so that when my dad and family most needed me, I could be there for them a hundred percent. The anxiety was a boon in disguise. 

We lost him in July 2023. After completing all formalities, I got a breather and the anxiety lurked back again. This time I was better prepared. 

My doctor announced that I had no physical symptoms of any illness and that we were going to stop all medications. She let me know that I was dealing with psychological issues which were getting manifested in the physical body. We moved to a new psychiatrist and now moved to just one medication for depression and anxiety. Since July 2023, I have had fewer and fewer episodes of anxiety, I am much better in social situations, I am meeting friends and family and after a hiatus of nearly 1 1/2 years, I took my first flight and have since done three domestic trips across India. Travel anxiety persists and I do not enjoy travel at all anymore. I am not sure when I might be able to do international travel again, but I am working through it. I still carry my SOS tablets and just knowing that I have them gives me confidence. 

I have realized and learnt that this is a new reality for me now and I have learnt to embrace it. This means that there are some things I will not be able to do in life and I am learning to accept it. I have learnt that instead of hiding from it, I can embrace and bring my family and friends into supporting me with it. 

I still have moments of fear, shame and guilt. I have my terrible days. I have anxiety episodes and sometimes it takes me days to recover from them, but I have also come a long way from where I was in June 2022. Friends and family have held me close, given me strength, visited me, shared laughter with me, sat in silence with me, watched me cry and be helpless and believed in me. These journeys are difficult alone and I am eternally grateful that I have such a massive support system and most importantly a partner who is an absolute rock in my life. 

The Cook I Never Was

Some of my most vivid memories of my childhood are always to do with food. We are a family that loves to eat and loves to feed. Weekends were extended, lazy lunches at Grandma’s place where the whole family gathered to eat and share stories mostly about food. Some weekends were picnics in the park where we would eagerly await the aromas of pipping hot Biryani filling up our senses and other times it was the excitement of smuggling delicious parathas into the cinema hall and gorging on them while watching my favourite hero bash up goons.

While I enjoy food tremendously, I didn’t grow up learning how to cook and could not cook to save my life. Coming from a deeply patriarchal family, I was never held accountable for the important life skill of cooking. Watching my dad, never cook, meant I didn’t need to. Watching my mom cook three meals a day, sometimes four for the entire family meant that it was an expectation I had from my wife / partner.

Not knowing how to cook and all that goes into planning a meal, meant I never learnt to appreciate the hard work in cooking. I remember, many a morning, I would be irritated by my mom’s overtures to push breakfast down my throat while I was rushing to college or work. Disregarding her early morning wake-up, her planning, hours spent in the kitchen making a healthy, hearty meal all lost in that moment of irritation when her son growled for being late to work and disappeared without even a glance to the heartbreak she felt. My dad continues to do that for many a meal, invalidating her effort. Other than a cup of tea and flipping a Dosa over, my dad still can’t cook to save his life.

It was only after marriage and when I moved out of home, that I was made brutally aware that not knowing how to cook was laughable. My partner forced me into the kitchen to ensure we played an equal part in our partnership for life. I struggled with simple tasks such as putting on the gas cylinder and cutting vegetables. For months, we ended up eating out / ordering in because I didn’t know how to cook and  both of us were tired after a full day’s work. The initial years were a struggle to say the least, adjusting to our respective new realities and learning the failings that we each had.

Not knowing to cook was no longer an option in the relationship and with many disastrous first attempts with an encouraging and unforgiving partner, I pursued. Slowly and steadily, I learnt to cook and now cooked for pleasure, over a weekend meal or when I felt like. The smells, tastes, textures of the food I had grown up eating intuitively guiding me and of course hundreds of online tutorials. Being a man, also meant I was not an easy student to teach, for my ego hurt every time she pointed a mistake I made or attempted to correct a dish. Even when cooking, which I was still learning, I needed to believe and let her know that I knew more than her. Really? It is a surprise she even tolerated me. My partner continued to do the heavy lifting even though she didn’t enjoy the grind of daily cooking. But we needed to eat right?

Anyhow, my cooking improved and with it my confidence in the kitchen. My repertoire was limited but the intention was growing. However, I was not rising to the task soon enough, so we decided to keep a cook and my cooking was limited to weekend attempts.

When the pandemic hit in early 2020 and we were confined to our homes and could not have our cook any longer, we were forced to plan, prepare and cook all our meals. Thus, started a whole new journey. From cooking for joy and experimentation to now cooking three-meals a day everyday to survive. My partner and I learnt to divide our meals – Breakfast is mine, lunch is yours. If you do dinner, then I do the dishes. So, now cooking had to be planned – What do we cook for the week, what ingredients do we need, how do we plan our cooking to ensure minimum wastage of food resources, etc., etc. In the initial days, there was tremendous food wastage because I could not for the life of me manage quantities. With my newborn interest for cooking, I also ended up purchasing many exotic ingredients that were never used. It took me a long time to realize that the fantasy of a gourmet chef in my head is different from the daily grind of cooking.

Everyday, I was getting comfortable with vegetables, spices, combinations and ingredients. Soon, I was churning out better and better food, cooking faster and enjoying the process. I also learnt to listen to my partner, my mom and anyone with useful advice on cooking. For many months, the regularity of cooking a meal was the only thing keeping me sane in the lockdown.

In the second wave, when my mom contracted the virus and we decided to bring my dad and her to our place to care for them, things truly changed. Now, we were responsible to make three healthy meals everyday for them and had to run like a lean-mean machine. Between, my partner and I, we planned every meal meticulously and had to have it ready on time, tasting well, having the right nutritional content and catering to their palette. Since, we could not have any house help, it meant we were also ensuring the house is cleaned, sanitized, clothes are washed and dried and the dishes are done. There was always a pile up of dishes after every meal that needed to be cleared.

This daily grind has helped me realize what it must take for my mom and for many like her to cook everyday for years, decades and all their life. I acknowledge and appreciate many of my colleagues, who wake up at ungodly hours to ensure 2-3 meals are prepared for their family, packed and ready to go while also making sure they get to office on time and repeat that when they go back home at the end of each day. It is insane to plan ingredients, to think on the fly, to be creative, to not repeat a dish soon enough, to have variety, to attempt new dishes, to not waste, to cater to the demands of different family members, to have disasters in the kitchen, to deal with lack of acknowledgement, to be invalidated and yet show up every morning in the kitchen and cook all over again, day in and day out and it does not matter if one is tired, sick, demotivated or feeling lazy. And mind you, for many like my partner and my mom, it’s not the only thing they do – they also have active, busy, fulfilling and demanding careers that they truly enjoy and thrive in.

Today, cooking is a not just a hobby, an essential life skill, a way for me to rewrite my own story, a way to break stereotypical mindsets about men in the kitchen, an acknowledgement of all the women in my life who have fed me unconditionally and a therapeutic outlet to stay sane in these troubled times. It hasn’t been an easy journey, more so for my partner who has helped me, held me accountable, nudged me and not given up on me as I have attempted to break out of a deeply patriarchal upbringing.

Now, I enjoy cooking, I am much better at it, have a reasonable variety and am becoming a meticulous, efficient cook but still unsure, I want to do this every day of my life. From a cook I never was, today, I am a proud almost cook and happy to say it.

A COVID Memorial - My Personal Appeal

The idea of 'Dignity in Death' is deeply personal to me. Many years back, a relative of mine fell into a ditch in the dark and was left there to die. After nearly 24 hours of searching, we found him in the ditch in a busy main road, barely alive. People around him walked past him without helping, a local street vendor just assumed he was drunk and left him in suffering. He left us a few days later, battling multiple internal injuries. He didn't deserve to go in such an undignified manner. Since then, whenever I see someone lying on the road, I make it a point to stop and check-in if they need help. We were fortunate that we found my uncle. Many are not and don't get a chance to say their goodbyes and find their closure with the person they lost. This memory came flooding back to me today as I read this article of this beautiful human being who 'provides dignity in death' to unclaimed bodies - https://lnkd.in/gerAGSA.

Last year during the 1st lockdown, I lost an aunt whom I was close to as a kid. Over the years, I had stopped meeting her claiming to be busy and always hoping that there will be a time when I will catch-up and we can relive memories from my childhood. As I heard the news of her passing, I could not step out to pay my last respects due to the lockdown; I could not say 'I am sorry' for I thought, there was time still. Some of her children could not pay their last respects, say their goodbyes and grieve as a family because of the lockdown protocols. Ironic, that the last moments of this special person were lonely - for this person was always the first to show up for the family, for the community and for God!

A young graduate from Dream a Dream who is currently in the US completing his education and attempting to build a career lost his father to COVID a few weeks back. As much as he would have liked to be here in India to support his father and family during this difficult time, he could not.

There are thousands who have not been able to say their goodbyes to their loved ones due to the current pandemic and restrictions with lockdowns.

As I continue to see the toll that the COVI19 pandemic is taking on thousands of Indians and watched with helplessness as people have died, many of them without dignity; as families have grieved for their loss without having an opportunity to say their goodbyes and find their closures; as families have not been able to reach their loved ones and are deeply traumatized by the losses around them - a bunch us felt that we need the nation to commit to a COVID Memorial to accord dignity and justice to the ones we have lost in the 16 months by recording their names and identities and not leaving them as invisible statistics. 

As a way for families to grieve, reconcile, heal and find closure, we have started this petition urging the Indian Government to commit to a COVID Memorial. The Daily Mail and St. Paul's Cathedral in the UK (https://amp.theguardian.com/.../fund-for-covid-victims...) are committing to an online book of remembrance with photographs and tributes of all the people lost to the pandemic. Such a powerful and beautiful gesture to accord dignity to the departed and create a space for remembrance, grieving and closure for the bereaved families.

We are inviting the Government of India to commit to a COVID Memorial that will record the names of ALL the people we have lost in India since January 2020 so that they are identified, accorded dignity in their death and a space where families can grieve, heal and seek closure for the goodbyes they couldn't say. It will also be a reminder to all of us for generations to come for the lives lost and what we need to change in our healthcare systems so that we don't repeat mistakes made at this time ever. We are not asking for a mammoth structure as symbolism of power and status but are requesting a gesture of honesty, authenticity and transparency coming from a space of love, humility and acceptance of loss.

There have already been multiple ideas brewing - A COVID memorial book similar to the one planned in UK; a symbolic structure, maybe a wall with names, in every village and town where people have lost lives; an online memorial; every Primary Health Centre (PHC) having a wall or a book with the names of people who lost their lives during this time in that village and town; a community quilt woven by family members; inviting artists from across the country to design art celebrating and acknowledging the ones we lost. There might be other ideas too to truly make this a community memorial.

This petition is important for me because I don't want my aunt, my uncle, this young man's dad to become an invisible statistic. I want to grieve for the people I have lost and I want the family to have the space for healing and closure and I believe a COVID memorial will be just what all of us who have been through collective trauma as a nation need. A space for acceptance, acknowledgement, remembrance, healing and closure. A space that reminds us that we as a society failed and will hold us to account so that we never fail again. We make a commitment to do better, to be better as individuals, families, communities and as a nation.

We invite you sign this petition - http://chng.it/jKfzxqpc6z and spread this so we don't ever forget the ones we lost and this time in history. 

In Gratitude! #COVIDMemorial #DignityinDeath #JusticeAndReconciliation

What Narratives are we offering our Children?

The COVID-19 pandemic has had immense impact on human and economic activity in recent memory. It has pushed many global economies, including India, into an economic recession and disrupted life as we know it for adults and children alike. With schools being closed since March 2020, this has been the longest since children have been out of school. 

Over the last few months, the Indian government started opening up the country, its industries and daily activity. However, schools continue to remain closed for physical engagement while online classes have started since September.  

In all this, I wonder, if we think about what narratives we, as adults, are offering our children and young people at the time of such loss, anxiety, distress and disruption of life as we know it. 

The Indian government announced a country-wide lockdown with a 4-hour notice. This disrupted life, livelihoods and incomes of millions of people, largely from vulnerable backgrounds. Overnight, millions lost their daily-wage jobs, were left with unpaid dues, debt and without homes and sources of income. Over the next few months, we saw with horror one of the largest migration of families within a country as millions walked thousands of kilometres to get back to their homes, villages and safety carrying their children and meagre belongings. I saw with helpless grief as images of children on their mother's laps, father's shoulders, sleeping on suitcases on footpaths and pavements as they made this journey home. 

Ever imagine, what Narratives children and young people picked up from this suffering? Why do we have to walk? Why did we have to leave our homes in the city? Why isn't someone coming to help us? I a hungry and thirsty, why am I not getting any food and water? Why is the government not coming to our aid? 

The story of a young father who sold his mobile phone to get some food for his stranded family and then died by suicide is an image that I will take to my grave. Do we wonder what his 14-year old daughter is picking up as a narrative? There is no one for us. We have to fend for ourselves. It is easier to die than to live in so much suffering. 

As families, who did manage to reach their villages, they were ostracised, not allowed to enter the villages in fear that they might be carrying the virus. Families were stranded on the outskirts of their villages and towns, helpless, hopeless, hungry, thirsty and on the verge of giving up. States decided to shut down their borders and soon hundreds of families were stuck at State borders - not been able to crossover and not being allowed to come back too. Bunched in crowded camps until the government could decide what to do with this situation, many feared for their lives and lives of their children. 

What narratives do we think children picked up then? I am not wanted. I am an inconvenience. I am a discard. I am a virus spreader. Worry, anger, frustration, fear, neglect, loss of dignity and identity were all possible emotions that children felt. 

With school closures, millions of children lost their only source of daily meal that they got in school. For many children, school was a safe refuge from the violence and abuse at home and it was no longer available. For many children, school was a safe space from a unsafe neighbourhood while their parents went to work and now they had to spend all their time in these unsafe neighbourhoods. For many parents, school offered a safe space of care for their children and gave them the strength to go out and work in the hope that their children are safe and learning. The burden of learning now fell on parents who themselves might not have gone to school. For many children, school gave them safety from their abusers and now they had no safe space leaving them vulnerable all the time. 

With dwindling cash resources, children have to go seek work to support their families; girls are being pushed towards early marriage and are more susceptible to trafficking in desperate family situations. 
With the advent of online classes, there was hope of a pivot towards online learning resources to re-engage children. Yet, early reports have shown that online classes are not working for the most vulnerable with limited access to devices, internet and network issues and unconducive learning spaces. 

There have been cases of adolescents who died by suicide because they were unable to join online classes. There have been cases of enhanced bullying in online forums by teachers and peers. 
In all this, what narratives are our children and young people picking up? That, they do not matter. They are not important. 

In all this, No political leader has reached out and spoken directly to children and young people, giving them hope, assurances and strategies that prioritises their wellbeing, safety and learning. As the country starting opening up, it was important to revive the economy first and not prioritise opening up of schools and colleges so we can help children and young people heal first. Examinations were conducted in the midst of the pandemic putting young people at risk of contracting the virus. 

As people step out of their homes, they decided it was 'back to business' when markets got crowded and busier, when religious places got crowded and when restaurants, shops and malls got crowded. In all that, we told our children - you are not yet important. your learning is not important. young wellbeing is not important. your future is not important. 

As people stop taking precautions, stop washing hands and wearing masks. Start organising weddings, get-togethers and celebrating festivals while schools remain closed and young people continue to live in confusion, distress and anxiety, we are telling them, you are not yet important. 

As young graduates live in anxiety around their future because there are no employment opportunities, there are no adults given them assurances of a secure future. 

As we adults continue to ignore one of the most important stakeholder, our young people, we are telling them that they do not matter. 

Young people are watching us. learning from us. learning from our actions. learning from what and who we choose to prioritise and we are indeed failing them. 

This trauma that children and young people are experiencing is going to make place in their bodies, deeply entrenched in their being and yes, while some young people will come out stronger, most won't. Most will carry this trauma and it will shape the adults they will become in the future. Adults who don't care; who don't show up for young people; who don't stand with young people; and those who choose individualism over the collective; choose Ego over the Eco, choose development over wellbeing, choose economic growth over biodiversity, choose GDP over the planet. 

We still have time. We can show up for young people differently. We can show with our actions and words that they matter. That their safety, wellbeing and their future matters to us. 

Let's acknowledge and accept that we are failing our young people and commit to changing that. 

Lets think about what could be our most compassionate offer to our children and young people? 

Let's prioritise safety and care, take precautions to stop the spread of the virus, come together as a collective human force, as a nation to fight this pandemic. Let's show our young people that we can listen and support each other. Lets show more kindness and care for each other. Let's hold our political leaders accountable. Lets invite them to talk to us with plans, strategies, ideas to combat the pandemic. 

Lets support government directives and initiatives designed for our safety. Let's show up everyday as a role model that we want our children to become one day. 

Lets give our young people newer, bolder, kinder narratives that build in them the capacities to help us, our communities and our planet to Thrive. This pandemic has given us an opportunity to let go of the past and embrace a new future with love, care and kindness. Lets show our young people that we truly care and are willing to change. 

A Decaying Society

A six-year old brutally gangraped, intestines removed and then murdered. A dalit man thrashed to death because he didn't remove his slippers while walking through an upper-cast neighbourhood. A man severely injured in a drunken pub brawl when a group assumed the man belonged to a different State. A young girl kidnapped, raped, murdered and eaten by a couple in the hope of conceiving a child when someone told them that they will be able to have a child if they ate the organs of a child. 

These form the predominant news in a national daily this week. These are, for me, all signs of a society and species in unfathomable decay. Over the years, I have felt this gnawing sense of a decaying society around me as values of compassion, love, empathy, care, truth, justice have rotted. Ofcourse, there are cases of human kindness, empathy, love and care. But, they are so few that we need to celebrate them like we are trying to hold onto the last few shreds of a fast burning rope on a bridge. 

The Himalayas have become a stockpile of human trash, pristine rivers drying up faster each year. Plastic and human waste found on the insides of sea and land life as human trash becomes fodder for the millions of animals and birds who have lost their habitats and thriving eco-systems. Rich mangroves been destroyed to build four-lane highways, coastal belts succumbing to man's need for more and more land. Vibrant western ghats torn down to make space for railways to transport the 'gold' of a developing nation called Coal. Tribal belts taken over with spurious legislation to mine rich minerals for a hungry country seeking to make it presence felt in the superficiality of global super powers. 

It is a decaying society that sees its humans and the planet just as a resource for extraction for an infinite growth paradigm.

In the privilege, I live in today, I can choose to not see the decay for it hasn't yet affected me. It is a mere inconvenience for me, something to talk about during our weekend catch-ups with friends and family. Something to share to feel angry about momentarily, give a privileged analysis of it, blame the government or a certain community for it and grab my next drink with an air of superiority that I belonged to the civilised breed. 

Yet, I feel it creeping into my bones as I feel more distrust and suspicion around me. I feel it in the anxious insecurity I feel in unfamiliar spaces. I feel it as I secure myself and my family further in gated communities, in closed homes, in air-conditioned cars and in having backup plans after backup plans to escape into my privileged cocoon when things get bad. A home in another country, a bungalow in the hills, a business in a safer country all ready to move when things will get crazy. 

I see it, I know its happening and yet this decay is not mine to own and take responsibility for. This decay is not my doing and not mine to undo. This decaying society will not affect me, might actually benefit me so let it be. 

Haresh

He had a cut on his lip and walked with a wobble probably from polio but I will never know. My earliest memory of him is when I was a kid and he would come home and help my mother with carrying 20-30 buckets of water from the tank on the ground-floor to our home on the first floor, everyday for years. Always had a smile and always hardworking. My mom paid him a few rupees for his labour and he never argued about how much he was paid. 

In addition, I saw him do odd jobs for people within our community in our neighbourhoods. Buy stuff, deliver stuff, fill up water tanks, repair things - He did all that he was asked to do and receive with humility all that he was offered. I am not sure if it was really humility or just desperation to earn his daily living. I remember, one time, when he did find courage to ask for more, he was told off sternly and said never to come back and we can find many like him. He bowed, apologised and turned up the next day. 

As I got busy growing up, Haresh became a hazy childhood memory. I saw him once or twice at community functions, always on labour for some family like ours. Always helping out, never really hired. I remember him for I admired him. I looked upto him. He represented humility, hardwork and grace to me. Alas, I didn't know then that he also represented oppression, exploitation and injustice meted out to the likes of him, who didn't fully comprehend the ways of the world. I don't know how he saw it from his own perspective and now I will never know. 

For many years, Haresh did odd-bit jobs for my mom and she used to pay him what she thought was a fair wage and sometimes gave him an old shirt or trouser that no longer fit my dad. She, ofcourse, always fed him for no one, absolutely no one can go out of her house without something to eat. 

With time, I completely forgot about him. I married. Moved out of my parent's place. He continued to visit my mom, always working. marriage, that had its own challenges. Never felt the need to check on him, ask him about his story. How he came to be the helper that everyone depended on in our community yet no one felt to improve his quality of life. 

I never found out where you lived. How you lived. Did you have dreams of your own? Who looked after your dreams? Your needs? Who held you on days when you didn't feel it. Who was really in your family? Your parents? Siblings? Argh! so many questions, all a bit too late. 

He passed away last month. September 2020. My mom felt terrible. She felt sad for him. She said, 'He was always there for everyone, until his very death. Yet, when he died, no one was there for him." It hurt to learn that he died; that no one was around when he was dying; that the very people he supported never knew that he was ill or that he died. Even days after his death, people would call my mom and ask her to send their medicines through Haresh. 

I don't know Haresh if people saw you, really saw you. I know I didn't. I don't want your life and memory to disappear into thin air so I acknowledge you here Haresh. 

For my mom, who held a job, three kids and a household to run, you mattered. You were important and it was because of you, our mom had more time her us. 

For the ailing widow, a relative, that you supported until your last day, your mattered. You gave her the reason to live on. 

You mattered Haresh. 

Resilience in Adversity

In many conversations, around the world, I have had well-wishers who have always remarked that children who grow up in adversity have more resilience, so they are likely to do well in life. I have always cringed at this naïve correlation between adversity and resilience. I agree, some children growing up in adversity do have higher resilience, but that resilience needs a champion and needs a support system for it to truly help a child thrive.

A powerful way to explain this is through the story of Poorna (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poorna:_Courage_Has_No_Limit), one of the youngest girl to climb Mount Everest at the age of 13 years and 11 Months. If you haven’t seen this inspiring true story made into a movie by Rahul Bose called ‘Poorna’, do watch it and one will understand what I am trying to say.

Poorna is born and grows up in abject poverty. She has loving and supportive parents, but they don’t know much and are easily influenced by people and circumstances around them. Her first champion is her elder cousin sister who teachers Poorna her first life lessons, about not giving up, having a dream and doing everything you can to achieve your dreams. Even choosing to run away from home. It is in this relationship that Poorna’s tenacity and resilience are seeded.

Poorna’s father does put her in a government residential school but not because he is invested in her education but because he doesn’t have money to get her married immediately. When left with a choice to be in school or leave this new school (which has not been what she expected), she chooses to run away again. Not a choice made from resilience but out of disappointment. She doesn’t yet have the life skills to make a healthy life choice. Had this choice become true, she would probably have got married soon and her life trajectory would have been different.

Here she found her champion, IAS officer, Dr R S Praveen Kumar. In his very first interaction, which is beautifully captured in the movie, he shows care, respect and creates safety and trust in the relationship which helps Poorna make a different choice. One can see, she is now building her support system – Her parents, her sister and now a caring adult who is invested in all children like Poorna.

During her school break, when she is planning to come home. Her sister comes to her support again. Her sister has her back and does not want Poorna to end up with the same fate as her. She must make a difficult choice again. ‘Do I go home, and risk being married off or do I go for a rock climbing trip?’ She chooses rock climbing and life changes forever for Poorna.

Praveen opens opportunities for young people like Poorna. He visits the program. He remembers her. He talks to her with respect and care. He gives her the sense that he is backing her. Poorna’s confidence is building. Now she has more supporters. Her rock climbing instructor who is tough with her but also encouraging. He notices that Poorna is special and validates her. He teaches her new skills and new ways of being. Praveen and her instructor now start building her vision, her aspiration and the medium of rock-climbing, intrinsically rich in developing Life Skills, becomes her tool to achieve her dreams.

Praveen pushes Poorna to find her reason to climb the Everest. For a purpose is key to accomplish such a challenging task and without purpose, he knows well, that she might give up when faced with difficulty. Poorna finds her purpose in the death of her sister and then there is no turning back.

All through the story, Praveen is also deeply respectful of Poorna’s choices even if they seem different from his own choices for her. This is critical for one to be truly a champion for young people. It is to know that the goal is for young people like Poorna to learn to make their choices for resilience emerges from the difficult choices we make in life. When Poorna decides to go ack home at the death of her sister and not pursue her dream, Praveen, while disappointed, does not show it, but backs her choice. When Poorna decides to make the Everest summit despite her illness, Praveen backs her again and lets her make her own choice. This will stand in good stead for Poorna for life.

And as one can see in the movie, the rest is history. Praveen, her parents, her sister through the poignantly beautiful letter she leaves for Poorna, her instructors, her colleagues like Anand are all her champions now. They are all seeding tenacity, resilience, healthy choice making, self-awareness, critical thinking in Poorna through their interactions with her. She has a village of champions now. 

That’s how Poorna learns to soar and that’s what gives Poorna the resilience to make through the last hurdles before she finally conquers The Everest. They are all by her side through her journey.

Children like Poorna who grow up in adversity don’t naturally have resilience. They need champions. They need us. We as parents, colleagues, teachers and every single adult have the capacity to become a champion for at least one child like Poorna around us. Let’s play our role. Let’s be that Champion and then the world is truly at their feet.