We’re All Crying
Biologically speaking, the lacrimal gland in our eyes produces three types of tears — basal, reflex and emotional. Basal and reflex tears act as protection from external stimuli and prevent the eyes from drying out. Emotional tears, a prerogative of humans only, are produced as a reaction to any emotional situation and stimulate the body’s release of endorphins — the feel-good hormones. In short, crying is a form of stress relief.
Contrary to biology, many people feel crying is a show of weakness. My maternal Aunt has two kids — both boys and almost 8 and 10 years younger than I am. When they were kids, I often had an occasion to spend a few days at a stretch at their house. The boys were naughty and would often get into small skirmishes for which they both would be punished, but they were not allowed to cry. To quote their parents, “Why do you have to cry like a girl? Are you weak?”
Though I love my Aunt and Uncle, I have never been able to accept this barbed criticism and often questioned the logic of their anti-feminist approach. When the boys were infants and shrilly cried their lungs out because of hunger, pain or whatever reason took their fancy, they used to be coo and shushed. Why now, because they have spent 5 years on the earth and have graduated to being addressed as boys, do they suddenly need to be reproached for demonstrating their emotions?
Sometimes, the outburst of emotions became a tad exhaustive when the waterworks happened more often than not. I had several encounters with a few clingy relatives and friends where a minuscule argument led to huge drama, comparable only to the Ekta Kapoor soaps on Hindi television. By the end of a crying episode, when both parties meted out an equal number of insults, emotionally blackmailing each other out of sheer exhaustion, would they call a truce, each feeling victorious in their exploits. The silent bystander cried too — inside.
It is a struggle to be able to withstand such theatrics and maintain a solemn face, all for the purpose of goodwill — when one is well aware that the reasons for all the expletives and bawling out loud is but a mere misunderstanding that could have been easily resolved as mature adults.
And then there are the cathartic books, novels, music, and movies which trigger a strong sense of realistic connection to the environment woven into the stories, transporting us into that realm. Sometimes the characters, their fate, loss, sorrow, and conversations become so poignant — as if they are one among us—living and breathing, their actions and their souls become intertwined with ours. They stop being inked words in the pages of a book or some scenes in the movies — It seems as if we are living their lives via the stories. Their loss becomes ours; we unhesitatingly transfer our entire life on to those characters and feel their pain.
Anyone who has watched Titanic or Forest Gump or had the chance to read “The good earth” and managed to walk away dry-eyed deserves a standing ovation. While I have tried my best to maintain my composure when watching or reading these tear jerkers, I have never been successful.
For my part, the circumstances when I shed tears varies. My father had suddenly taken ill and as his condition continued to deteriorate, there was a point when we all feared the worst, especially after my father, himself a doctor, raised self-doubts of surviving the ordeal. Those months were a living nightmare. He was in and out of hospitals and the very air in the house smelled of medicines and helplessness.
During this entire period, never a day went by when my mom did not cry. She cried so much that I was afraid she might harm her eyes. She cried that nothing went well and if something went right, she would cry again anticipating that it might not stay right for long. I was too numb to be able to give assurances, my brain fuzzily trying to work out options. All I could do was be with her. In all that time, if I reflect back, I think I have not given way to tears much except for once or twice — when I was all alone with my thoughts. Either because I was so focused on acting and doing something, anything to improve the situation, or it was the constant buried fear of disaster ringing in my mind that shocked my brain enough to stop it from sending emotional pings to my tear glands.
If I am asked to rate my crying category on a scale of 0–5 (5 being the highest), I would be a 2.5. When I started out on my own in the big bad city of Mumbai trying to make ends meet, it was an eye-opener. Fresh out of college, coming from the ensconced home environment, the city that never sleeps was not one to mollycoddle me. The city and its people shocked me to start with. It was a ruthless teacher, it made me struggle and it made me understand the harshness of hunger, the pangs of rejection in seeking jobs, the pains of betrayal by co-workers, the tussle of surviving on a meagre salary — all of this was a bit too much for me to take in and I dare say I did break down more often than not.
It, however, taught me life lessons — never to lose hope, to keep trying, to keep your head down and do your work, be honest, be punctual (a few missed trains and buses did the trick). I learnt that putting a bit of love in what you do made the work easier, I made few friends, I dared to dream and try for better jobs, saved money. In the midst of all this, one of the people I crossed path with told me something which I am going to carry with me for the rest of my life - “Cry, if you must. But refocus and act the next day”.
Crying is no benchmark to the weakness of a person. Anyone who says otherwise is underestimating the scientific machinery of the humans. Crying is healthy since it releases the stress hormones and toxins and balances the body and mind. Asking of one not to cry or belittling one for sobbing is like asking one not to drink water. Each one of us cry in our own way. We cry because we are humans. Some cry in public and some seek solace in solitude. Life is unfair and gives us ample reasons to cry. My mantra — Make the most of it but be sure never to cry again for the same reason.
