What If Every Month Was Pride Month?

By: T S Venkat Narayanan

One of the most common issues people around me have raised is –

“Why do we have to treat them special in the month of June? What even is the purpose of pride month? Isn’t it just another way for corporations and clubs to increase their profits/appeal?”

Okay, so first- pride month is celebrated to commemorate the Stonewall riots, which took place in the June of 1969.

Second, yes! It sure is a way for corporations to appear more ‘woke’ and youth-friendly.

Now, the most important question- 

“Why do we have to treat them special in the month of June?”

Well, pride isn’t about treating the people from the community in a special manner. It is more about treating them with respect (like we would treat other humans with), acknowledging their struggle and making them feel part of society instead of an outcast.

In this piece we shall look at how it would be if every month were to be pride month.

Now, with every month being pride month, the significance of pride month would obviously reduce.

“Ohh, how angry it would have all the gays with the spotlight off them for good.”

Ironically, this would instead make the community even happier as it would make more people aware and sympathetic of their struggle. 

It would also normalize their existence in the society.

What would this mean?

People would stare less at them, make them feel less uncomfortable. Companies and organizations would stop using them as a prop like they do in the month of June just to be discarded once the month is over.

Violence and crime against them would reduce in numbers, the members of the community would feel more empowered which would lead to them being more accepted in society, having better healthcare which would cater to their needs. 

Now, wouldn’t that be just nice?

He Couldn’t Really Break Free

By: Vishal Agrawal

Mr. Martin died a peaceful death they said. There were no signs of pain or agony. His wife gave her condolences and came down to sit beside her son. When almost everyone was about to go, a man went up to the podium and called attention to him. It was as if they knew him from somewhere. All of them had seen him some time, somewhere. 

When that man read out Martin’s note, everyone was moved. They somewhat understood where this was going. He knew the actual Martin. For everyone, Martin was the ideal male role model. He led the ideal life as social norms defined it.

Nobody really believed it when the letter claimed he never truly loved his wife. Everyone thought they were the ideal couple. But his wife didn’t seem surprised. She appeared to have known bout this all along. His kids appeared to be experiencing a life-changing shock. The scenario goes back to the 1960s.

He told it all in his letter. Martin had his first crush in his college days. “I realized I was unique after I lived in the men’s dorm. I still wasn’t able to speak it aloud.”Being gay in those years was not considered natural. He felt loneliness creeping over him as he thought he could never find love.

He never felt attracted to girls, when everybody around him was. For the longest time, he believed something was wrong with him. There was no representation for somebody like him, there was no validation.

In front of his parents and friends, he explained how he was able to act normally. What would one do if you were unable to communicate but were confined within your body with your brain still functioning? How can you maintain your sanity when everyone you know and love cannot see you? He claims that as a young boy, he had a weird coma. As his mind started to work again, he was left with nothing but his own thoughts. He was confined and had nothing to do except think. Additionally, they weren’t exactly pleasant ideas.

“Nobody will ever be kind to me. I’ll never be loved by anyone.”

And of course, there was no way out. You are doomed, he believed.

He concluded that leaving his ideas behind was his only choice. According to conventional conventions, he continued acting normally. Even though he had a crush on a boy in college, he nevertheless made friends with a girl, She fell in love with him and the two of them eventually got together. Even though he had no idea why he was deceiving himself, he was aware that something was wrong. He continued living in his cocoon, He didn’t know that coming out was really an option. He married the girl and had two children, but he always felt incomplete. When he told his wife one day, she didn’t really believe him.” You can’t be gay”, she said in response. It was a challenge rather than a command. She implied that he was definitely not gay.

But by expressing that, he felt better. He didn’t care if she believed him or not. He got to hope when he saw advertisements for a gay Bar. He started going out and meeting new people, people like him. He met different people, He met a man who was very different. He was quite older but Martin’s world slid when he was around him. Martin began to have feelings toward him. He could sense movement all around him. He felt like himself for the first time. The man reading the letter wiped his eyes and said, “yes, that was me.”

 He realized what it was like to be joyful and in love for the first time. He was too delighted to give it much thought, even though he knew what he was doing was wrong for his family. He then began the relationship in private. His family could never know about this. Alongside his daily responsibilities, he did enjoy this. Later, he was promoted to manager at work.

He was really skilled at living a double life – but still, he knew something was missing.

All he wanted to do was live freely, and come out. But he knew in his heart that he was powerless to do so. He lived his life, took care of his obligations, and retired early. He remained faithful to his partner and carried out his marriage vows till the very end. But he had split apart somewhere between social pressure and love. He led a normal life for so many years, but what others didn’t realize was what was going on inside his head. Others watched in surprise as Mr. Martin’s true love wiped his tears stepping down from the podium. All were wondering how a seemingly flawless man could be so sad for years and realize that true happiness was found elsewhere and still couldn’t enjoy it to the fullest. 

Masked Love

By: Anagha V

“Dear Friend,

Occasionally, when I lay down and closed my eyes, I used to feel like a skatefish in pisciculture. Bleak lifelessness around me – a world drained of joy. They only saw in black and white, do you realize?

The funny thing is, I swam around. I floated around like a little plastic toy, discarded into the vast ocean by some rich spoilt kid. As light, weightless, and wasted. I felt my fins and tail as I traversed the water, the strong current against them. 

My teachers had always told my parents that I was a queer child and that I daydreamed too often. Maybe they did get some part of it right, but I never dared to make the pun evident. Who are dreamers but lost souls, right? 

My room used to be no different from my terror of a thought loop. It was almost like a black hole, everything sucked you in, and you lost your nature. You know, like the universe is no longer to be governed by the Laws of Senses. If absurdism gets narrowed down, the only thing defined in it would be human hypocrisy. They ask you to love and then say you are not supposed to. They preach to you to be true to yourself but accept only sugar-coated lies. I know.

My school was no better. It was not like my friends were any kinder. Their images flickered in and out of my daily life like a television channel on a poor signal. Despite being left with all these people around me, I was permitted only to use one bland, broken communication device. Will they ever know me for who I truly am? And then I’m in the pond again, my form obscuring my vision. Would it have changed who I am? Would I have forgotten who I was? I am glad you were there through all this. 

At times I used to feel like this life was a conspiracy. But then you told me about the other colorful, joyous worlds I could spiral into when I was lost. Maybe all everyone in such a wicked world as mine needs is an ally. Things did not seem as hard. I finally had the courage to stand up for myself. You were not right by my side physically, true. But you were with me, in your heart. That is more than anything I wanted or needed. All this suffocation of shutting myself inside is finally off my shoulder, and I just wanted to say thank you.”

People are often just scared to speak up for themselves. They have to realize that what makes them unique is everything about them- their age, gender, identity, sexuality, interests, and whatnot. The pride community is not for today’s relief or tomorrow’s comfort. It is a movement for as long as it takes. And it is home. To love is human, and to love is divine.

To Be Loved or Not To Be Loved

By – Krishanu Das

The feeling of love is one of the most beautiful feelings in the world. It’s a powerful emotion that can make us feel both happy and sad at the same time. The term “love” refers to an overwhelming emotion of heartfelt affection. But does it exactly define the true essence of Love? 

I was about 15 or 16 years old at the time, and I was trying to figure out a lot of things in life. I was running late, especially for an Indian kid from a middle-class family who was expected to have figured out their life by this point. It was difficult for me to find significance in many things, but one day I came across something that made perfect sense to me. It was probably insignificant to most others, but it meant everything to me at the time. My life was turned upside down, and everything that didn’t make sense before began to make sense. I met a girl. She wasn’t perfect, but she seemed to be able to complete me.

My friends thought I was crazy and that I wasn’t making any sense, but at the time, their opinions didn’t matter to me. This girl was all that mattered to me. She was in my class, so I made it a point to speak with her daily and get to know her. She was incredibly sweet to me, and I always felt “PERFECT” when I was in her company. I was so delighted that I used to look forward to going to school, and when school finished, I was upset, but the anticipation of seeing her again kept me awake all night. I was genuinely happy and everything was just “PERFECT”, but I suppose nothing is supposed to be perfect in this universe.

I went up to the girl and confessed my feelings for her with a lot of courage. Her smile had vanished, and I couldn’t think of anything else at the time. I’d exhausted all other options and was simply hoping to God that she’d say yes. But it appears that the universe had other plans for me. She said “no”, and I didn’t know how to react to it. Everything just went blank for a moment and I didn’t have anything to say. 

Everything that previously made sense to me began to disintegrate, and nothing appeared to make sense to me. Going to school was a burden, sitting in class was excruciating, and seeing the same beautiful face every day was depressing. I had blamed everyone up until this moment, and then I started blaming myself. Was it, however, entirely my fault? I’d only done one thing: I’d fallen in love. I had no idea how to communicate my feelings, and all I could think about was being rejected. My sorrow had turned to rage, and I couldn’t seem to settle down. The tension and restlessness were unbearable.

At this moment, all I could think about was blaming the girl, and my rage seemed to know no bounds. I simply wanted to express my rage, and I had painted her as the villain in this situation. I couldn’t accept the fact that she had rejected me, and seeing her made me feel horrible. Was she, however, the “terrible” person I painted her to be? She made a decision that she had every right to make.

At this point, I realised the issue was with myself and with society, which believes that if a person makes a decision for their own good, we label them as “bad” people if their choices do not coincide with our own. Every individual has the right to make their own choices, and we, as individuals in society, must respect those choices and learn to accept differing viewpoints. I felt it convenient to blame the girl because I had to learn it the hard way. “Consent” is something that transcends people’s and society’s opinions, so maybe I was supposed to be blamed at this point?

“Time is the finest healer,” as someone once said. I believe in my case, I just analyzed the situation and realised that sometimes not everything is in my control. That’s when I realised that not everything is supposed to make sense and that some things just “happen.” I believe that at this moment, I had made peace with all of my sadness, anger, and restlessness and that this helped me to escape from the situation.

Holy Matrimony

By – Danika Shrivastava

The year started on a good note for Amna. Last year, her elder daughter, Ayesha, got married to a very mature and handsome young man from a prosperous family. But for the past few weeks, she was worried about her younger daughter’s marriage prospects; Ahana, who had gone to London to pursue her economics major and just graduated. But instead of returning, she stayed back in London. She wanted to find a groom for her daughter, the way she found one for her elder one. But when Ahana, her younger daughter, decided to stay back and explore the city, a myriad of unholy thoughts erupted in her mind. What if she decides not to marry, and all the eligible guys get married to other girls? Or even worse, what if she married outside her religion. But they seemed meaningless worries of the past, as only a few days back, Ahana had decided to get married. And not just that, her daughter had called her to inform her that the person she chose as her suitor is Shahyar Khan, a well-off lawyer by profession.

Their home was decorated, kebabs were rolled on the grill, dry fruits were steeped with sweetened milk as the preparations to welcome the guest were underway. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Ahana. She pulled her into a tight hug while her eyes were meandering to see her groom. But instead, all she saw was another girl, whom she assumed was a friend of hers. She asked her, “Where is Shahyar?” A slight smile rose on her face as she said, “Ammi, this is Shahyar.”

For a moment, Amna was bewildered. She thought it was a prank, which her daughter had been very fond of playing since her childhood. But when they came inside holding hands, her fears began to rise again. She inquired about her again but got the same response. Finally realizing the truth, she lost her cool. 

“How can you do this? This is forbidden. A woman can only be a wife to a man. Are you out of your mind?” she screamed. Within minutes, this evolved into a full-fledged fight. While Amna tried hard to justify her thinking, Ahana only made things worse by questioning her blind faith and ridiculing her thinking.

Amna retired back to her kitchen in tears. Shahyar tried to talk to Ahana to realize that it takes time for people, unknown to the LGBTQ community, to get along with it. But Ahana kept saying that they both should return to London, get married, and forget anything happened.

While a sorrowful atmosphere surrounded their house, Amna’s maternal instinct kicked in when she realized that both the girls must have been hungry. So, she took some kebabs and brought them to the girls, parallelly trying to make her daughter realize that what she was doing was wrong. 

Suddenly, Ayesha stepped in through the front entrance, tears flowing down her face, murmuring something between her cries.

Ahana and Amna rushed to her side and asked what was wrong. While weeping, Ayesha told them that her husband had just decided to remarry another girl, and when she protested, he instantly threatened her with divorce and yelled “talaq” twice. And now she cannot live under the same roof with him and demanded that before he could, she wanted to separate. 

This incident shocked Amna to an extent she could not have imagined. How could the perfect groom do such a thing to her daughter? Words failed her, and she ran back into the kitchen in utter shock.

While the situation was not what Shahyar expected, she still believed that Ahana’s mother would eventually accept her.  Ahana’s mother reminded her of her own mom. She supported her from the streets of London to getting educated in one of the top colleges.

Since Ahana was preoccupied with consoling her inconsolable sister, she sensed Amna alone in the kitchen. So, she decided to go and comfort Amna. She saw Amna cooking milk before putting in dry fruits in the kitchen. She gently passed the bowl of dry fruits to her and calmly said, “Aunty! I know I am not the son in law that you might have expected for Ahana, but I can promise that I will always be there for her. And I will never let her cry”.

Listening to Shahyar, Amna started to question how someone supposed to be the perfect husband could treat their wife this way. What is the true essence of marriage? Is it love or is it to be with someone because society deems it so? And as she was questioning her thoughts on marriage, she further doubted whether love was bound to gender or the person and their beliefs. 

Without love, even the best of the marriage may tarnish, and with love, no matter what society says, even the most eccentric marriage can flourish. 

She may not have accepted Shahyar yet, but she began to question her beliefs to fit into this modern society. Amna suddenly smiled at Shahyar and made her sit with her daughters, Ayesha and Ahana. Amna had tears of happiness in her eyes as she brought out the kheer and served it to her three daughters.

The Prosecutor

-by Devika Marathi

The weather was pretty awesome, so I went for a walk in the sandalwood forest. This was my first time visiting it. The sandalwood forest in my city has a walking track and citizens are allowed to visit it, but there are guards 24/7 to make sure that no one steals the sandalwood. By the time I entered the forest, it was almost sunset. People normally never go into the forest for a walk after the sunset. But who cares about it when the view is so fabulous. After walking for half an hour, I realized that thinking so was a big mistake. I suddenly started to feel an ominous vibe as if something bad was going to happen. I chose not to go back to the entrance because the entrance was farther than the exit. Anyhow, I continued going forward towards the exit. 

The forest was huge, so there was more to it other than just the walking track. As I was walking, I suddenly heard a faint voice. I was not that scared now as I was a few minutes ago. I wasn’t even sure what the sound was, even then I went to check where the sound was coming from. This was such a stupid act of mine. Who the hell goes into an unknown forest just to check some unknown sound!! As I was going forward, the voice became fainter. Yes, you guessed it correctly. I was going in the complete opposite direction to where the sound was coming from. I turned back and started to walk towards the sound. I could finally hear the sound clearly, but I still couldn’t recognize what the sound was. Now, at this point, any person with a sane mind would go back and call someone for help, but I didn’t do that, because I was insane. Instead, I gathered up all my courage and went to see what the sound was. 

I saw a person lying on the ground with a gunshot wound. He was bleeding heavily. I was in shock for a few seconds and didn’t know what to do. I then remembered seeing in a movie that I should first stop the bleeding so that he can still be alive by the time we reach the hospital. I immediately tried to stop the bleeding by applying pressure to the wound and then I called the ambulance. The ambulance arrived sooner than I expected. The person was taken to the hospital and he was treated. Thankfully he survived and was out of danger. The police arrived and took my statement. They also wanted to take the victim’s statement and ask who shot him. But he was unconscious, so they had to come back after he regained his consciousness. 

The police sent me out of the room when they were taking Mr Harry’s statement. But I kept the door open a little so that I could eavesdrop on their conversation. Again, who in their sane mind would do such stupid things that might make them fall into trouble. When the police asked him about his details and who shot him, he said that his name was Harry and he was shot by the men of Mr Jacob. He added to it that he knew about all the illegal activities done by Mr Jacob and even had the evidence to prove it. Mr Jacob tried to kill him when he refused to hand over the evidence to him. I was shocked to hear that Mr Jacob was behind all this. Mr Jacob was the richest man in our city and he was known to be a good man. To my amusement, the police didn’t seem to be surprised to hear that. It was as if they already knew about it. Then, they threatened Mr Harry to keep his mouth shut and never reveal the truth, or else his entire family would be killed. And they also asked him to tell where he hid the evidence. This time Mr Harry seemed to be scared by their threats because he knew that Mr Jacob would go to any lengths to destroy the evidence. I didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation because I was scared that I might fall in trouble if I knew any more details about it. 

Mr Harry’s family was present in the hospital, so I went back home. I never visited Mr Harry again. But I was still troubled by the truth. After a few months, I got to know from a friend who is a prosecutor that his fellow prosecutor named Linda was investigating Mr Jacob. She filed a case against Mr Jacob and was strong-willed to put Mr Jacob behind the bars. The very next day I went to meet Ms Linda. I told her about the entire incident. She thanked me for giving her useful information and asked me to give her the details of Mr Harry.

She reached out to Mr Harry and asked him if he could file a case of attempt to murder against Mr Jacob. At first, he said that he couldn’t help her in any way. But when she persuaded him, he mentioned that he secretly kept a copy of the evidence of all the illegal activities done by Mr Jacob. He told her that he would give it to her if she guaranteed the safety of his family. She promised that she would protect both him and his family. He gave her the evidence. 

In the next court trial, she presented the court with the evidence. The evidence that she obtained was enough to prove Mr Jacob guilty and put him behind bars for his remaining life. As expected, the judge ruled that he was guilty.

Many officials knew about the tyranny of Mr Jacob, but they did not dare to either file a case against him or investigate him. Only Ms Linda dared to do so. This could have threatened her life, even then she did not care. I would like to conclude by “Countries who don’t have brave prosecutors and fearless judges will instead have plenty of thieves, many killers and even stupid dictators!” 

Rural Poverty

-by Shreyan Sanyal

India recorded its lowest economic growth rate during the pandemic. There has been a rise in rural poverty over the past few years, but this year Rural Poverty significantly increased due to the lack of jobs. Rural Indians — mostly an informal workforce and poor by any accepted definition — have lived with irregular jobs for over a year. In recent years, India emerged as the country with the highest rate of poverty reduction. In 2019, the Global Multidimensional Poverty Index reported that India lifted 271 million citizens out of poverty between 2006 and 2016. Contrast this with the situation in 2020: the highest global poverty increase happened in India. India has not counted its poor since 2011. The United Nations estimated the number of poor in the country to be 364 million in 2019 or 28% of the population.

The topic of rural poverty struck me one day when I went out on the road to throw some extra food which was there in our house. On my way, I saw a small kid of around 8 to 9 years old begging. His shirt was covered with dirt and it was not in the best condition and he was asking for food from the rich people. He was running all over the place and I decided to ask him about the problem. He claimed that his father is a farmer and doesn’t have any money in his house to feed him or his family. His mother is ill and he has a younger brother and sister in his house. Then, I decided to give him extra food so that he can take him to his house. He smiled and went away.

This made me feel that various Rural issues remain unresolved in our country. One of them is Rural Poverty. People are either directly or indirectly dependent upon agriculture in rural areas. The poor farmers receive inadequate compensation for their hard work. They work day and night in farming so that they can produce food for urban people but still they earn very little money which makes it difficult to feed their own families. Sometimes, they do not have enough money to have access to basic facilities i.e. education, healthcare, electricity, proper water supply and sanitization. Due to the high poverty rate, many rural areas in India now have to depend on loans with relatively high annual interest rates. While this seems like a good solution to the poverty crisis and reduces the immediate pressure of economic needs, in the long run, it will negatively affect these rural areas. Such loans lead to future debts and increase the need for funds to pay back the loans. This debt trap sometimes leads to suicide. People are scattered in rural areas as compared to urban cities. This isolation means that their access to services like banks, hospitals and schools is also minimal. People in rural areas have traditional values but their access to modern infrastructure is very less. While the urban sector is characterized by the concentration of large populations in small areas with modern infrastructure, rural areas have nothing as compared to urban areas. Lack of education and healthcare facilities makes people unemployed which further leads to the rise of poverty in rural areas.

It is the right time that we need to think for the people living in rural areas. During the Post-Pandemic situation, the government should help in the creation of jobs for the poor people. People in rural areas should be provided with proper skill sets so that they can be provided with jobs and can earn money easily rather than being unemployed and earning nothing. The government should start helping the farmers in whatever way possible. Children should be provided with proper education and healthcare facilities so that they can later be an asset to their family. 

Therefore, taking these steps can help in decreasing the percentage of rural poverty and thus help in boosting our economic growth.

The Orphan

-by Manya Prasad

“Get up fast; today is important. Please make yourself presentable”, bellowed the old caretaker. I woke up rubbing my eyes, trying to not get caught up in all the excitement. I knew I couldn’t get my hopes up. It was the same routine every time. Hopefully, they will also get the food this time. “Wake up Amer ” I whispered my friend awake. We scrubbed and cleaned ourselves. We were already ten, there was very little hope for us; so we spent time on the younger kids; they still had a chance. We reminded them to behave. The people arrived, they looked rich, the lady had glittery earrings. They spent time with us; we also got the food along with the girls. It was rare. Maybe they will adopt a boy for a change. Perhaps donate some books or toys to the boys’ orphanage and not run to the girls’ orphanage like everyone else. We need writing books for the younger children; another toy won’t hurt, the cricket bat is also broken.

The girls are so lucky, here the caretakers have difficulty getting us a 3-time meal and they have special Sunday meals. I don’t understand what is so special about them, I know it’s because we are scrawny. The younger caretaker takes young boys to their rooms at night, he took Amer once, Amer still gets nightmares. Thankfully the older caretakers at the girl’s orphanage are more vigilant, my 2 sisters were there they got adopted. Our roof is falling since we don’t get enough donations. Sometimes the other orphanage tries to share its money. We even get books from there sometimes. Oh no the rich people are leaving, they don’t want to adopt one of us, they want a girl child. The lady with the earrings is saying something about how the girls have been forsaken and deserve a good home. All these people saying they have been mistreated and they are not safe, I don’t see it maybe because I am small. Don’t I have any value? Do I not deserve to be safe? Oh! There is an extra ice-cream for everyone, today is not as bad as the other days, at least the rich lady came to our side. The old nursery rhyme presents the choice quite succinctly: you can have snips, snails, and puppy dog tails (presumably along with tailless dogs) or you can have sugar, spice and all things nice. Most adoptive parents prefer sugar and spice. Gender preference in adoption is very real.

Adoption agencies, both domestic and international, tell me that if given a choice, 75-80% of adoptive parents prefer to adopt girls. It’s a sad irony that there are more boys available for adoption than girls. Interestingly, numerous researchers have found that parents expecting a child by birth prefer a boy, at least for their first child. There are many reasons for this kind of discrimination. Parents want to adopt girls because of the image that they have of being sweet and easy to handle during adolescence Teenage boys on the other hand have a notorious image. Also, the fact that a girl child is seen to be at a disadvantage makes parents want to adopt them. The family name has traditionally been passed through the males of a family and some families are less willing to have a male outside their bloodline carry the name into future generations. While adopted daughters seem easier to accept into the family. Children of both genders are equally important and they are equally vulnerable. This kind of gender bias at this young age ruins lives. If a girl child should not be forsaken by her birth parents, so should the plight of young orphan boys not be ignored by our society.

The Ghost

-by Sanjana Senapati

“Ravi”
“Present ma’am”
“Ashna”
“Present ma’am”
“Yash”
There was no response.
“Yash?”
“Yash!”
No one responded. Ma’am shook her head in disappointment and continued with the roll call. It looked peculiar. Yash had not come to class for the whole of the past two weeks after the results had been announced. Ma’am was visibly annoyed until yesterday but today she looked borderline furious. She had already told us that not attending her classes would not go down well with her. Surprisingly I didn’t even remember seeing a certain Yash in class distinctly. In fact, none of my friends did too. One guy said he had spoken to Yash once when Yash had asked him for some help in an assignment but he did not pay much heed to him, after all, Yash was one of the lowest rankers of our class and he did not want to waste his time in a lost cause. A few boys giggled as he said that.
What was this mystery? We were all left wondering whether he even existed. We dubbed him as “The Ghost”. From that day onwards whenever his name was called and no one answered, we giggled among ourselves as ma’am became all the more furious. One such day Ravi went ahead and shouted “the ghost” when ma’am called his name during roll call.
A week went by and yet there was no sign of ‘The Ghost’. Did he vanish? More importantly, was he fine? But these thoughts went away as quickly as they popped in. I had a whole load of work to do and quickly stopped thinking about it. Oh and yes at this point ma’am had exhausted her full range of fury at Yash’s absence and had transcended to plain and simple indifference. She still called his name during roll call, mostly for comic relief since the whole class responded to her calling Yash’s name with a loud “ABSENT”, that too in perfect unison. We had had a whole month of practice after all. I felt a tad bit bad while doing so. God knew how Yash was after all but as I said these thoughts were transient. They did not stick and quickly vanished. However this one time, I felt like I must at least try to do something. So I went to ma’am after class hours and asked her if she had any contact information on Yash. I almost said “The Ghost” by mistake. She dismissed me and said she does not have the time to look and she was too disappointed with his absence to care anymore about him. So I retreated empty-handed. I tried to ask people if they knew him but no one seemed interested and rushed to their next class. Sadly, indifference was the only thing that I saw people reeking of that day. Funnily enough, we did not know what was coming.
The next day in class, ma’am started the roll call again but she did not take Yash’s name.
We were all surprised, some even tried to remind ma’am but she ignored them. There was a strange awkwardness in her face at that moment. But as usual, no one cared. Indifference had consumed all of us.
The day rolled into the night and we were up again the next morning for class. We were about to take the stairs to the classroom but were dumbstruck to see a big hoarding with an unknown face but a very known name under it. It said “Yash Gupta” “2001-2021”.I froze in my tracks. I felt numb and could not move. I felt a few people pushing me to get to the staircase. I was angry that they did not even care. Below the poster there was a line that said “ Do not hesitate to ask for help.” and I immediately knew how he had passed away. But still, no one cared. Is this what our generation will be known for? Indifference and Insensitivity? I could not attend classes that day.
Later I got to know that Yash was a victim of clinical depression and bipolar syndrome because of which his social life and academics suffered badly. No one would help or talk to him, he was left to fight his demons alone and he lost that fight. No one helped him. No one wondered why he would not come to class. We simply called him ‘The Ghost’ until he became one. But the worst part was that we could have saved him. Kindness would have saved him. But we lost him and with him our kindness and humanity too.