“How Are You?”
A Plea For Empathy
Sometimes, you are the only lifeline to someone struggling with feelings of inadequacy, and other fears. This someone waits for a word or a call from you through the day: because you are the only bright spot in her day. Yes, you have other things to do, because you are a busy and popular person, and you are juggling a hundred other demands on your time. Your busyness is understandable, and perhaps talking to, or exchanging a word with this needy person might besmirch your otherwise spotlessly perfect day.
It is also easy, and natural, to say, “she needs to pull herself out of this situation, and get a life”, or “If I as in her place, I would have helped myself, rather than seeking mental assistance from others.” But it is also quite possible that the person in question has exhausted all possible resources, before turning to you, and your empathy.
Sometimes, all they need is an affirmation, an acknowledgment of their existence, a voice telling them that they are not alone, that someone is listening. That someone cares.
And often and often, some telepathy, some sixth sense informs you that a friend is going through a bad time, and all they need is that lifeline of a voice that enquires, with concern, “How are you?”
A decade ago, I was examining students during the Viva, preparatory to the Board Exams. One of the students answered all the questions accurately and intelligently, but something in his face and demeanor alerted me. I indicated that I would like to talk to him: and after the Viva was over, I chatted with him. It was a long conversation: the students initially answered with grunts and monosyllables, and later on spoke without stopping. He told me of his home, and the dysfunctional nature of it, about breakups and breakdowns, about alienation and depression.
I remember how the sun set behind the sea I could see from my lecture-room window. The sky darkened, but the face of the boy lightened as he continued to speak. He spoke till he was spent. Then he stated with chilling simplicity, “I was planning to go home and hang myself today.” I gazed at him, hardly daring to breathe. He smiled faintly. “But now I want to live.”
He lives. He is an airline pilot, and he touches base with me from time to time. He invited me to his wedding and he introduced me to friends, family, and his bride, as ‘my second mother.’
I remembered this incident when I called up a cousin who runs an Air B&B. What was meant to be a quick and casual conversation, went on for the better part of an hour. He later sent me a message thanking me for calling him. He was in a bad space mentally, he wrote. Both on the professional and personal front, life had taken a turn for the worse, after the lockdown, and he was stressed at both levels. “Thank you. You can’t imagine how much you’ve helped.”
Last month, a friend who was a victim of domestic abuse recently lost her surviving parent. I either message her or call her every day. I know she waits. I have the time and the inclination. I give her some of both.
I remember when my husband and I were caring for my mother-in-law, who was suffering from age-related physical complications, and acute dementia. This was during the pandemic-induced lockdown when no help was available for love or money. Every day was torturous and traumatic, the nights, more so.
On one of those days, one of my cousins rang me up. She knew about my mother-in-law, and how unwell she was. But before she asked about her, she asked me, “How are you, Suma? Have you eaten anything today?” I felt the breath whoosh out of my body and I had to sit down. The realization that someone cared enough to ask that question made all the difference to me. I don’t remember what I answered, or how, but I shall remember always the feeling that someone had reached out across the miles, and the isolation, and given me a hug.
And because of her, I call up people randomly and speak to them. If I sense that they need to talk, I allow them to talk. If it feels like I am intruding, I terminate the conversation quickly.
No woman is an island. We all need each other. We need to care. Sometimes it is the only thing that stops a person from spiralling into an abyss of no return.
In the present climate of political correctness, and fear of commitment, these statements are probably a red rag to a bull. But unfortunately, I know no other way to live.
So I ask all of you, “How are You? Have You eaten today? Are You doing well?”
ⓒ 2023 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.
Please read this inspirational piece by Don Johnson
A piece of advice and motivation for those days and times when writer’s block creates blank pages, from Darrin Atkins:
Relevant, necessary, and valuable advice from Margery Bayne about using strong verbs, to strengthen one’s writing:
