Our World Inside!
A requiem for death. a paean to life; a star returns to the galaxy
India is currently under a pall of gloom. A bright, young, talented, successful Superstar from the film world ended his life, just a fortnight back, at the promising age of 34. Sushant Singh Rajput has jolted the Millennial as little else has in the more recent times.
There have been insanely successful people at different ages who have cut short their journey in this world, by making a ‘snap’ decision that they have had it in this lifetime. There are unlikely names like Anthony Bourdain at 61, Avicii at 28, Kurt Cobain at 27, Ernest Hemingway at 61, Alexander McQueen at 40, Sylvia Plath at 30, Kate Spade at 55, Robin Williams at 63 — the list is tragically long and heart-wrenchingly unbelievable.
There are many, many more amongst us, the common folk who take the short route to the final frontier. Studies show that suicide is amongst the top five killers globally.
Seeds inside our Beautiful Mind
“Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don’t kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, “He fought so hard.” And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong.”
― Sally Brampton, Shoot the Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression
There is a parallel world that exists concurrently inside our mind — many times in unison, yet most times incongruent to what happens in our outside world.
The invisible people living in our heads laze around in the hammock stretched out in the crevices of our minds. Some hang from pointy cliffs, poised to take the jump out onto the façade, tearing our masks away as they slide down pulling us with them.
Some of them we make peace with; not letting them starve, nor letting them gorge on the bank of our emotions either, yet keeping them plied with a steady diet of reason and rationality.
These strange beings living inside our heads are not demons. They are actually fruits from the same tree. Some took a fall hard and turned squishy in parts they fell on. Others let a wound grow into a festering sore. Then there are those that stayed unmoving for too long, letting the unexposed part to rot.
Identifying the Point of Return
“The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets through many a dark night.”
― Nietzsche“What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question.” ―Margaret Atwood
Still, the invisible people coexist with our conscious self. They spar, they may have a spitfire relationship with us, but they don’t always harm.
As a Grief virtuoso and the Chosen Child of Loss, I know. I have been there at the deepest middle where I may have drowned. I have been at the point where it has gotten to be insufferably stifling and suffocating.
I have been at the edge where one push on a certain day would have taken me to the other side, over the bridge between life and death. But myriad other pushes — many internal, some external — nudged me ever so slowly back into the world of the living.
Acceptance! Acknowledgment!
“There comes a time when you look into the mirror and you realize that what you see is all that you will ever be. And then you accept it. Or you kill yourself. Or you stop looking in mirrors.”
― Tennessee Williams
Sometimes we may sink, other times swim out. There is no us and them. There is no judgment to be made, no strange looks to be cast, no opinions to be tossed around. We all have it in us, a house inside that is full of rooms — some deep and dark, others stroked with sunlight.
There are days, we all plunge into the darkest room with our hearts grated and stoked by the contorted train of thought or cold and callous stimuli from outside that cruelly, mercilessly push us down into the raging ball of fire.
But there also exist threads, some fine as hair, some thick as a rope; suspended like stalactites that we can and must latch on to. When we swing from the threads they rub against each other and get entwined, giving us a thicker cord to pull ourselves up and out with.
But sometimes, in the saddest hour, the string snaps and the final slide happens, hurtling us into the nether world with unfathomable ferocity. The concluding countdown takes you on your last journey, giving you respite and lending you succour in its wake.
What is needed is an Empathetic Point of View
“Did you really want to die?”
“No one commits suicide because they want to die.”
“Then why do they do it?”
“Because they want to stop the pain.”
― Tiffanie DeBartolo, How to Kill a Rock Star
Those who choose to be their own Yama are not cowards. It takes courage — though from the other end of the continuum — to put a gun to your head, to tighten a noose around your own neck, to jump off a cliff, to jump in front of a speeding train. They aren’t weak. Only that they have made a decision, to call it quits, to kick their bucket, to not to be on the present cruise.
They deserve respect; their decision need not be decried. They simply wanted to ship out.
They do leave a bloody trail behind that takes a bit of time to mop out. They cause unimaginable misery to those who survive them. But all forms of death do!
If you have a matrix of relationships — and most of us do — then the severance is bound to stab and scar, torment and torture, wound and vandalize; those who will be departing at different times and different stations from us.
Departures are tearful. Farewells are heartbreaking. We are never really ready to bid adieu to those we hold close and dearly even when we know that we will only be traveling together for part of the journey.
Getting a Grip on It
“…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?”
― Vincent Willem van Gogh
But those of us who have chosen to stay on; must learn quickly to bring confluence between our inside world and the one that exists outside. Our own perceptions must learn to shake the hand of posits and postulations outside, the differing opinions and beliefs too. Both have their reasons and their antecedents. Both have the propensity to be dogged but must meet at least half way, if not with amicability then with acceptance.
Those of us who have decided to continue with our travel will have to learn to plant gardens of Eden in our inner cities of sorrow. Learn to draw elixir from our wells of tears and paint beautiful sceneries with brushes soaked in our blood. While it is true that for some it is going to be a smooth, easy, bump-free ride — and that is their Karma — for most of us it will be a cross to bear and drag through, naked-footed on rocky roads.
As the much experienced General-in-Grief, with each decade of my half a century life marked with one Goliath-size loss after another, I must tell you that it is possible to stay afloat. And it is wise to accept sadness as a companion. For, it has been known to add the fifth dimension to your mindscape and present a palette of emotions, deep and delicate, sensitive and sublime. It is a proven fact that a grieving mind and a sorrow-stricken soul has written more poignant poetry, painted the most ethereal masterpieces, and penned the greatest opuses.
A young, promising life is snuffed out before its time. Or was it? Who is to know? While conjectures fly thick and fast, the young, dashing star of celluloid has embarked on a new journey to scale heights and soar with his ambitions perhaps far greater than what he did or planned for here. The Star will be orbiting on a different trajectory.
In popularly held belief, his apparently good life had checked all the right boxes. But the invisible people inside us have their own definition of attractiveness and wealth, fame and fortune.
In the late 90s, I was severely jolted by the sudden, untimely demise of a dear friend. The good-looking, debonair, famous young man, who held two successful jobs and courted fame in both, decided to come to the hotel I worked in, take the elevator to the topmost floor only to jump to his death.
We all collectively let out gasps of disbelief and tsk-tsked our agony-coated tongues on what a huge loss it was. We all looked shocked and surprised at the whys and wherefores. He was such a charming man. He was so calm and collected at all times and completely unruffled, we said incredulously.
Yet, we failed to see the dual life he led. We failed to spot signals that were awry and fell out of line. Did he allow the invisible people to step out, even for just a few moments, enough for us to catch on?
“But in the end, one needs more courage to live than to kill himself.”
― Albert Camus
When the conflict between the inside and the outside worlds diminishes and takes strides towards convergence, when there is an environment of empathy and affection, care and concern away from scorn and derision, apathy and absence of support, then the two worlds conjugate creating newer, richer experiences; stronger ones too.
The finest truth and the biggest relief in all this is that even the deepest ravine within has cracks that can be pried open soft-footedly and gently to allow the light to peep in and the shining radiance to pass through.
That and the acceptance that we all will leave in different ways, at different times!
Editorial Insert: If you are experiencing thoughts of suicide or self-harm, we encourage you to contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1–800–273-TALK (8255). This lifeline is free and confidential. It is open 24 hours a day and provides support, information, and local resources to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress and those around them. Call for more information or visit www.suicidepreventionhotline.org.
