As to project an air of confidence, and seeming self-assurance? Did they use words larger than necessary? How many words did they use? Was it a reasonable amount? Did they shoot off on a tangent, as to avoid the subject at hand? Did they give you a straight answer? Did they answer at all? Did there eyes dart from side to side? To the left, to the right? Did they look up, away, down, into your eyes? Did they fidget? Look repulsed? Shock & awe? Satisfied? Nonplussed? In the time before they answer what were they doing? Taking a deep breath? Looking away? Trying to stare into your very soul? Trying to search out the answer you seek?

Whether or not it is the true, or a fabrication of fiction. A bare thread of a lie, or a neatly woven tapestry spun into an elaborate picture of chivalry, daring, self sacrifice, and atonement? Can this person be trusted? Have they always been telling the truth? Are there lies just so grand and majestic that the mere fiction of there truth seems to actually be an irrefutable fact. Why would they lie? Lies like ripples in a glass resonate, and overlap. If you asked them if they were lying how would it be done? Directly right then and there? What if the truth was the answer present, and you are now they fool? What if the don’t confess? Most won’t lies trigger more lies. It’s not true, not all lies hurt. Everybody does it.

Everybody. Whether it be the lies of our childhood, teenage years, or adulthood. When people have mastered their craft sunk so deep into a web of lies it becomes easier than truth. Even when the truth is an easier answer. One day everyone must attest for the lives they’ve lived.

Rather the nurse came rushing through the door.

“What is it?” she asked, obviously freaked out at the outcry.

“It’s my b-baby…she’s awake!” the patient’s mother spoke, tears of joy filling her eyes.

“Jesus! Keep her calm while I get Doctor Hanson,” she replied exiting twice as fast as she entered.

An aura of joy diffused all through out the room. Even the flowers in the vase seemed to be blooming. Each alphabet on the Get-well-soon cards seemed to have leaped. The tears overflowed and the smiles lingered. The cries of “Thank you God!” echoed in the ears of the awakened patient. She stirred, swept the room with a squint and smiled at them. Her mother, her younger sister, her father and then finally the one she wanted to see the most. He was here, just as she’d expected.

“Hi baby,” her mother sobbed out.

“Hi mum …. dad …. Kelly …. D-”

“-Now there’s our survivor?” The doctor burst through the door, stethoscope around his neck and wearing a wide smile. He shook his head a couple of times in disbelief. He checked the IV, scribbled on his notepad and proceeded to check her pulse.

“Your have one helluva of a strong daughter Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, she’s a fighter!” he said, “I hope you understand that we still have to run a couple of tests before we can say anything solid?”

Both parents nodded, “Do all you must doctor. No one will get in your way.”

“For now though, you can get your hopes sky high … Er, one more thing … I know how much you want to be around her but she really needs to rest” he added and waited for the response.

“Sure thing, doctor, we understand … just give us a minute,” Mr. Peterson pleaded.

“Er-Doctor … Can I at least have one of them stay with me till I fall asleep, please?”

Doctor Hanson sighed, “Okay, but make sure you rest Barbara”

“Thanks doctor.”

For the next two minutes, everybody just showered her with their joy. They’d been warned days before not to specifically tell her she’d been in a coma. Needless to say, she already knew she had definitely been in a serious condition. She hadn’t seen her dad smile this wide in a long time.

“Honey, you want me to stay?” Barbara’s mother asked.

They probably knew this beforehand, she thought. Everyone besides her mother had picked up their coats, ready to leave. She cast her eyes at him. He hadn’t said anything all this while. All he did was smile along with everyone else. Wasn’t he happy to see her? Surely, He had to be. He just had to.

“Danny?” She said.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, shocked that he’d been noticed.

“Will you stay with me?” she said, “please?”

The effect was as expected. Everybody froze for a moment. She could swear either her mother or father would’ve challenged if she wasn’t in such a situation. Instead, they seemed to realize she’d noticed their furrowed brows of surprise and immediately faked smiles. Danny, in turn was pleasantly surprised. He’d least expected this request than any of them.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay, honey……I-” her mother started, assuming her situation had turned her a bit gaga.

“-I’m sure mummy,”she interjected feebly, not wanting to sound rude, “Will you, Danny?”

“If you want me to…..I’ll stay,” he replied, struggling to remain calm.

“Thanks……………….see you soon Mum, Dad……Kelly”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the replies came.

“All right honey…take care of yourself. Make sure she gets some rest Danny,” Mr. Peterson added, hiding his confusion almost perfectly.

“See you soon sis….your Dior shoes are itching to be worn!” Kelly said happily, ignoring the seemingly disapproving look from her mother.

They each planted pecks on her cheek and headed out of the room, not hesitating to cast quick looks at Danny before doing so. The door shut behind them.

Barbara chuckled, “I thought they liked you? You pissed them off in my absence?”

“Your absence? You’ve always been here, just uh….sleeping, right?” Danny replied.

“If you say so,” she smiled.

“And no, I haven’t done anything to piss them off, I’m sure. They’re probably just as confused as I am right now. Your daughter asks for a non-relative to stay with her right after she’s awoken from a coma?” he said, only realizing his blight seconds after.

“I’m s-so sorry Barbara. You weren’t supposed to know just yet. Sorry. Don’t tell anyone I told you…please?” Danny pleaded.

For about a minute, the hospital room fell silent. Barbara soaked in what she’d just heard. The angel was right. He’d said she wasn’t dead yet and it was true

“Danny?”

“Yes?”

“Help me sit up. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

“O-Kay?” he asked, not hiding his surprise from her.

He adjusted the bed so she could sit up. What was this all about? He thought. First, she chose him to stay behind. Now she had something to tell him! What the hell was going on?

“Thanks….move your chair closer,” she said softly, noticing the awe on his face. Hopefully she’d get a better reaction after telling him.

She waited for him to draw closer before starting,” How long have I been like this?”

“One week since the accident if you leave out today,” He replied.

Ah yes! How could she have forgotten about the accident? She couldn’t remember how long since, but it was an afternoon. Her dad had just brought home new chandeliers and lamps. She’d dared to fix the chandeliers all by herself. She remembered the yells for her to descend the ladder. The screams following her fall re-echoed through her ears. She quickly regained focus.

“You’ve been here often?”

“Every single day since. I would’ve stayed nights but your mum insisted she could handle it.”

“Tell me, what’s the doctor been saying?”

“I don’t know details cause I’m not family. But they claimed you had slim chances of recovering. Listen, Barbara….I’m supposed to make you rest, can you j-“

“-All right….no more questions.”

A ten-second moment of silence prevailed in the room before Danny spoke.

“You wanted to tell me something?”

Barbara nodded, Took in a deep breath and began.

“Now Danny I know I haven’t been exactly nice to you. I know it was five years ago but ever since that day you and your parents had dinner at our place; I’ve had a grudge against you without reason. Hated my parents for trying to get us to be friends. I know I made it quite obvious anytime you said “hi” and I only nodded,” she paused to catch a glimpse of his expression. He was straight-faced, impassive, paying rapt attention to what she was saying.

“I’m really sorry for treating you like that Danny, I really am. I kept on teaching myself to not like you. All you wanted was to be a good friend and I acted as if you were some kinda demon. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it Barbara. I never felt treated badly. You still gave me the keys to your garage anytime I borrowed your lawn-mower, didn’t you?” he said

“That was nothing, Danny. I didn’t like you but I wasn’t totally heartless!”

“Good…so stop apologizing then.”

She smiled at him and received a warmer one in return.

“I had a dream Danny……I dunno what to even call it. It felt too real to be a dream. I’ll just tell you either way. I was climbing a golden stairway with an angel. I’ve always held a very faint belief that these things exist: Angels, Ghosts……..you know. Somehow though, I just knew he was. Plus he had wings too, same kind we see in movies. He held my hand, walking me up a flight of stairs. I couldn’t see where we were headed because what was supposed to be the topmost landing, was a blinding light. It was just too bright for me to see anything. In no time, we’d already reached the top and when I looked down to the bottom landing, it was just as bright as the top had previously been. The angel noticed my confusion and spoke. “Don’t worry about that Barbara. Your real worries lie here.” I turned to see him pointing at a large round mirror about five feet away from us. It was so huge it must’ve taken a dozen people to move it. I struggled to fathom how the mirror was of relevance to me. I started to ask a question but the angel raised a finger to keep me silent. “Now, here lies the mirror of second chances. Not many people get to see it before their afterlife,” he told me. I nearly fainted at what he’d said. ‘AFTERLIFE?’…..Danny, I began to harbor the thought of being dead already. By some form of telepathy, the angel spoke again, “No Barbara….not yet….I’ve seen your span. It doesn’t end at twenty and that’s why we’re here in front of this mirror. This mirror will reveal all the people in your life by order of those who love you from the highest to the lowest.

We drew closer to the mirror and about a foot away, he asked me to place my right palm on the surface. I leaned forward and did as he’d said and together we watched faces that seemed to be smiling at me, emerging out of nowhere and arranging themselves in vertical order in the mirror. I saw relatives. My grandparents, close aunties and uncles as well as cousins, some lower down the list than I’d expected. Only four friends from school and I wasn’t surprised. I pretty much wasn’t the friendly type in school. There was a blank space at the top and I wondered why. I turned to the angel. “Barbara dear, you know God loves you more than anyone else don’t you?” he said, disappointed that I couldn’t even guess who occupied that space.

My mum was second from the top, my dad followed and then my sister. I expected to see perhaps another cousin or some aunt or uncle but there was a smiling face of someone. Someone, I’d least expected to see. I turned to look at the angel and he only nodded with a grin. I looked back into the mirror Danny, thinking the face would disappear but it still smiled back at me. I couldn’t believe it Danny, the face belonged to you.”

Barbara couldn’t tell whether he was as shocked as she had been. She had been looking straight ahead at the dark screen of the television-set meters away all along. She turned to look at him and a slight smile, like a knife mark in fresh dough, parted his lips. She smiled back and went on.

“At first I thought it was some kind of error or perhaps it was just a dream so anything out of the ordinary was possible, but that feeling of reality still existed. I just knew it was real….I just knew it was. The greater shock came minutes later. The angel let me know that for me to return to earth finally, it was time to reveal which of the people in the mirror wanted to see me back the most. He said further that though some people loved me, they had little faith in my recovery and such began to welcome the idea of me not awakening. There was no reason for me to be disappointed in them. “No human possessed spotless love to be able to detest people whose are stained” he said and I understood. All I had to do was place my palm back on the mirror. This time around, it was a two-sided outcome only. After my hand had touched the mirror, two things might happen. A face might appear, with a transparent goblet next to it. This goblet would be filled with a shiny, white liquid. If the goblet next to the face was more than half-full, it meant whoever appeared had enough desire to awaken me. Anything less than half meant it was over. It indicated a time to let go and let die. There would have been no use for this except that God wasn’t going to appear this time. Only the people I knew back on earth were. My fate lay in their hands.

Barbara shook her head and looked Danny right in the eyes. The empathy was right there on his cornea. She went on.

“I was scared, Danny. He told me to take my time, no rush .With heavy steps I walked forward for like forever and placed my palm on the mirror. I turned around facing the opposite direction with bated breath. I didn’t wanna look. I feared what might happen. It was no use, a force of which source I didn’t know spun my body around till I was face to face with the mirror. I couldn’t feel my heart beat in my chest, didn’t feel my lungs inhale air. The longest second I’d ever experienced .Then a silhouette appeared. More like a sketch of a face. I couldn’t make out who it was. The goblet shone brightly on its right. The liquid, just above the half level of the goblet shimmered in the mirror sending gushes of relief through my body. I was safe. The face became clearer every second and my focus was now on the one person who’d saved me. Danny I stared right into the smiling, handsome face that belongs to you.”

Danny sank in the chair. He opened his mouth but words wouldn’t come out. His pupils ignited with emotion. He opened his mouth to speak but the words only followed a minute later.

“Barbara, I…..I….I dunno what to say. I-I-“

“Just say it was more than a dream. Say it was real. That your face appeared in that mirror because it was supposed to. Say that you love me right after my mum, dad and sis do. Say that it’s because of you I’m awake. Say you forgive me for how I’ve treated you in the past and that you’ll be by me tomorrow and for the rest of my life” she said, with tears running down her cheeks in a steady stream.

A tear slid out of his eye as he heard her pour her emotions out. He stood up and made no attempt to wipe it off. He leaned on the bed and did what only dreams had ever allowed him to do. He kissed her with love that was overflowing its banks. The first real kiss they’d ever have. She opened her eyes and for a split second saw a familiar smiling angel on the seat where Danny had sat. She blinked and he was gone.

“I love you….I love you right after your mum, dad and sis, if you say so”, he chuckled with her, “and I’ll be by you tomorrow, the day after and everyday for the rest of your life. I promise”

He kissed her once more, turned around and slowly walked out of the hospital room a new man. A man who’d bumped into what he’d been looking for all his life. A treasure that had eluded him but still found him before he’d found it. His feet seemed to soar out of the hospital, carrying him into a new place.

She watched him leave through the door and thought of the boy she’d hated five years ago. Now, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. At that moment she didn’t feel scared to close her eyes again. She closed them and slept deeply. Slept deeper than snow white ever had, knowing that no matter what, her prince would be the reason she’d awake.

However, what hits one with great surprise and emotional disturbance is the suicidal death. It is that one stage in a person’s life when he becomes exceptionally tired to live another day. He becomes so weak and doomed to failure that at this point, suicide is his only answer – the point when he breaks the mirror of his fears into countless pieces and walks over them daringly. He feels no need to tell anybody about what he is going to do next. Perhaps, this is the only time when he thinks about HIMSELF most selfishly and leaves no room for any sort of interference.

I know when a man decides to sit down one day and finish himself and all boundaries of undue tolerance, he must be unafraid of God – for suicide is an unpleasant act in His eyes without any argument. He must be a coward as he chooses to leave the people behind to deal with the mess. Lastly, he must be a loner, unaided and figuratively dead already before committing suicide.

If the issue has become very fragile and you are feeling suicidal now, please stop long enough to read this. I do not wish to talk you out of your bad feelings. I am not a therapist or other mental health professional; only someone who knows what it is like to *feel* suicidal. I do not know who you are or why you are reading this page. I only know for the moment, you are reading it, and that is good! I can assume some of you are here because you are troubled and considering ending your life. If it were possible, I would prefer to be there with you – to sit with you and talk face to face and heart to heart. But since that is not possible, we will have to make do with this.

Well, you’re still reading, and that’s very good. I’d ask you to stay with me for the rest of this page. I hope it means that you’re at least a tiny bit unsure, somewhere deep inside, about whether or not you really will end your life. Often people feel that, even in the deepest darkness of despair. Being unsure about dying is okay and normal. The fact that you are still alive at this minute means you are still a little bit unsure. It means that even while you want to die, at the same time some part of you still wants to live. So let’s hang on to that, and keep going for a few more minutes.

Start considering this statement:

“Suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain.”

This means that you can survive suicidal pains if you do either of two things; find a way to reduce your pain or find a way to increase your coping resources. BOTH ARE POSSIBLE!

1. You have to believe that people do get through this — even people who feel as badly as you are feeling right now. Statistically, there is a very good chance that you are going to live. I hope that this information gives you some sense of hope.
2. Give yourself some distance. Say to yourself, “I will wait 24 hours before I do anything.” Or a week. Remember that feelings and actions are two different things – just because you feel like killing yourself, doesn’t mean that you have to actually do it right this minute. Put some distance between your suicidal feelings and suicidal action.
3. People often turn to suicide because they are seeking relief from pain. Remember that relief is a feeling. And you have to be alive to feel it. You will not feel the relief you so desperately seek, if you are dead.
4. Suicidal feelings are, in and of themselves, traumatic. After they subside, you need to continue caring for yourself. Therapy is a really good idea. So are the various self-help groups available both in your community and on the Internet.

Well, it’s been a few minutes and you’re still with me. Im really glad!

Since you have made it this far, you deserve a reward. The gift you will give yourself is a coping resource. Remember, back up near the top of the page, I said that the idea is to make sure you have more coping resources than you have pain. So let’s give you another coping resource, or two, or ten…! Until they outnumber your sources of pain. Here are a few online links that can be helpful to you a great deal.

• How serious is our condition? …”he only took 15 pills, he wasn’t really serious…” if others are making you feel like you’re just trying to get attention… read this.
• Why is it so hard for us to recover from being suicidal? …while most suicidal people recover and go on, others struggle with suicidal thoughts and feelings for months or even years. Suicide and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
• Recovery from grief and loss …has anyone significant in your life recently died? You would be in good company… many suicidal people have recently suffered a loss.
• The stigma of suicide that prevents suicidal people from recovering: we are not only fighting our own pain, but the pain that others inflict on us… and that we ourselves add to. Stigma is a huge complicating factor in suicidal feelings.
• Resources about depression …if you are suicidal, you are most likely experiencing some form of depression. This is good news, because depression can be treated, helping you feel better.

Other readers, if you know someone who is suicidal… or if you would like to be able to help, if the situation arises, learn what to do, so that you can make the situation better, not worse.

• Handling a call from a suicidal person …a very helpful ten-point list that you can print out and keep near your phone or computer.
• What can I do to help someone who may be suicidal? …a helpful guide includes Suicide Warning Signs.

And lastly …take care!

At this hour only one or two autorickshaws can be heard in the distance. All other traffic is still sleeping, waiting for the crack of dawn to start buzzing like a bee or a young lover desperate to suck the nectar before it falls prey to some other, before fading in the summer heat, amidst cows, stray dogs, hawkers, beggars, road-side Romeos, shoppers, buses, trucks, cars, more rickshaws and anything and everything that can stir and crawl.

It is at this hour that she stands with her back against the about two and a half feet high balcony handrail. To say that her back was resting against the banister would make no sense, since she was far from it, even though she was touching it. Though, she might have felt at peace having made up her mind on how to escape.

She pushes herself up to sit on the still-wet railing, not even wondering if she would fall in the process. If it would all end before it all began.

Droplets of fear race down to her swollen lips which she licks without blinking hoping they would quench her thirst. This was not the time to give in to the urge, run to sip that last sip. Let fear cripple, society hold back, and love to vanish. They had given some, taken some, and now was the time to exchange some more. It was to be now or never.

He had said, “I love you.” They had said, “Never.”

Having got this far, she does not look down, her mind does not waver, even though her body quivers. Chickening out, pulling back, giving up, running away had never been her style. Instead, she lowers herself down holding on to the vertical balcony rails. By now she’s dangling. In spite of herself, she wants to cry out for help, but does not. She does not want to wake anyone up. Already her arms have begun to ache. She tries to pull herself up, but cannot. By now she’s convinced that climbing back up would be impossible, besides even if her parents did show up, they wouldn’t be able to help her up. Any attempt to do so would result in the inevitable. So she lets go first of her right hand and then her left hand.

Before time could travel, she had done so and landed on her back in the lap of mother earth, to whom it did not matter if is she had worshipped Lord Shiva or fasted during Ramadan.

Her name was Pooja Ramnani and she was eighteen when she decided to escape.

She had not stepped out of her room the night before to have dinner or to apologize to them. Instead she lay curled in a tight ball, in her bed, crying until she had no more tears left, biting her tender lips until she had tasted blood.

She had heard their muffled sounds, whispering about a couple of matrimonial prospects the matchmaker had told them. Her father, Ishwar, had wondered if she had been hungry since he was having his dinner and wanted her to join him.

“I think she’s asleep,” her mother, Parvati, had said.

“How could he have done that?” She had thought. Humiliate her in college, in front of them all. What was worse that even her mother had not helped her. And this was after she had grown up hearing over and over her mother say,

“We are all one. God is one. Hindus and Muslims are alike. We are all human beings, made from the same clay; must learn to love and understand. Here, dear Khala, take some flowers for me to the Darga; say a prayer for our good health and so that Pooja may find a good boy.”

Understandably Pooja had not wanted to speak with either of them that evening or later that night. But she knew that she could not tell them this. If they had found out that she was awake she would have to talk to them, because that’s how it was. Parents were to be respected. If they wanted to speak with you, you couldn’t say,

“Later, not up to being with you folks right now, or, leave me alone; this is my life.”

What could she do, but pretend to have fallen asleep, while all along hearing random words like “suitable boy, Muslim, Hindu, shame, name, game, dowry, marriage within a few days, or else too late.”

A couple of hours later when Ishwar had stood at his youngest child Pooja’s bedroom entrance he had not switched the light on, since there had been enough coming in from the kitchen and the sitting room to see if she was still sleeping. They had suspected about him, all along. But what in the God’s name could they have done? They could not allow it. They had left their home in Karachi to run away from people like him. And now, how they now allow her to marry him? What would the people say? He must be using her they had thought, like they all do in movies.

But now that he had caught them red-handed, they had done something about it  taught her a lesson.

When Ishwar had seen that Pooja had not stirred even though he was in her room, he knew that this time she was really asleep. Before he quietly stepped out, he covered her with the bed sheet since it was a cool night.

As soon as Pooja had seen the kitchen light go off, she had thrown off the cover even though it had been a little cool. She had done this because she had not wanted to be tricked by the mistress of sleep. As she saw it, the only option she had was to climb down from her bedroom balcony. That way she could escape from her parents and marriage to a complete and absolute stranger.

A sensible option would have been to pretend to go along with the marriage. And then just as she and the chosen by the parents stranger, to whom she was to be handed over so that their name would not be completely tarnished, were about to make the sacred rounds around the fire, she could have untied the knot and walked away. Just like that.

But this had not occurred to her. This could have made it clear to the general public that this in fact had been a forced arranged marriage, one to which she had never consented.

She had ruled out setting herself on fire, because her intention had never been to hurt herself or destroy her parents home. She knew how hard her father had worked his entire life to provide for them.

The bottom line was that she wanted to escape, but without harming anyone, or financially ruining her family. So she had decided to stick with her balcony plan.

Having thought that if she could get herself down from her balcony, she would walk fast or even run down the dark, quite, narrow streets of her neighborhood to get to Mustafa’s apartment, which was no more than a couple of miles away. She had been aware that the possibility of her getting a fractured limb or two existed, but she was willing to bear the pain, as long as she could escape. With her new-found tolerance for pain, she would be able to make her way through to Mustafa’s.

By now he seemed to be her only hope. She had reasoned that if she walked close to the edges of the narrow street, where it was bound to be darker, perhaps no one would notice a pretty young girl out alone in the middle of the early hours of the morning. The planned time to escape was around three in the morning, because by that time there would be minimal traffic, and hence less people would notice her. Even the homeless would be asleep a little after three.

Having decided her route of escape, she had concentrated on details.

By the way, has anyone ever stopped to wonder why is it in life that our good deeds are always overlooked and our bad deeds are always in the spotlight? It is very rare that one will remember that good “thing” you did for them in their life but once one bad incident happens; an enormous issue is made out of it instantaneously. It is quite interesting how that never fails to happen to us every so often. C’est la vie, n’est-ce pas? (That’s life, right?)

So as I may proceed to continue with the incident, I do also want us to keep in mind that if there is anything good that we are doing out there, it is not for anyone in particular. It is for ourselves and that goodness that we carry out, will give us peace of heart and mind. It is God that knows what is in our hearts at all times and these things never go unnoticed and I truly and honestly believe that.

It so happens that one mid-afternoon last July, my friend had received a call from a passionate though frustrated customer. Now mind you, she had happened to be quite an elderly lady in her late 80’s. She had started her conversation that day yelling, screaming and cursing at the top of her lungs however my friend stayed calm. I was surprised at her reaction after she had told me this. After a few minutes the lady started crying on the phone. Obviously very astonished at this point my friend had naturally wanted to know what was wrong. She went on to explain to her how she had 3 sons that had been married off and had left her behind. They had not looked back at her once or even had called to check up on her once in a while just to see how she was doing. Last week, she had claimed that she had slipped and fallen in her bathtub while taking a bath and had managed to break her hip and could not get out of the tub. She had apparently spent 3 days in the tub just surviving on water only because she could not get herself out and none of her 3 sons had even made a courtesy call to their mom to check on her well-being and health. She was totally helpless that day.
After approx. 3 days, her landlord had noticed she had not come down to check her mailbox in the apartment building, which had forced him to go up to check on her. As he was ready to knock on her door, he heard cries of help coming from inside the apartment.
She had spent almost a week in the hospital recovering from this ordeal. The aftermath of this mishap left a bad taste in her mouth for her inconsiderate sons.

Apparently, my friend claimed that she had wanted to talk things out on the phone only also because she was so lonely and no one cared for her hence this incident that had happened, left her even more fearful of her health. She had asked for a promise from my friend. She had asked if my friend would be able to do her a favor and call her every Saturday just for a few minutes just to make sure that she was ok and whether all was alright. My friend agreed and took upon her shoulders the responsibility to call her every Saturday, which she had consistently done for 8 months straight.

Until one day, my friend had gotten a call from one of her sons from the elderly lady’s lawyer’s office. They had asked her to drop by for a few minutes that day so she agreed on doing so. When she got there, she had learned that the elderly lady had died only a week before and left my friend’s name and contact # in her diary for the reason they were able to trace my friend and call her in. Not only did my friend have to bear the bad news which made her come home and sob uncontrollably, but to her surprise she had left my friend with $200 and a thank you card for all my friend had done for her. Which was just a simple few minutes call every Saturday. Even I had become emotional and tears had filled my eyes when my friend had told me this story. I was so surprised at the good deed and gesture my friend had put forth by just lending a hand to her and acknowledging her presence as a human being.

After my friend had shared this with me, my respect has risen for her tenfold. I admire her for her “ Noble Deed ” that she carried forth just to make the elderly lady’s last days all the more merrier and it cost nothing other than a few minutes of her Saturdays.

Today, I must say that by sharing this story with you all, I have given praise and credit where credit was due.

I think that after learning about this incident, I am sure it would make you want to do something good for someone out there just for the sake of doing so. I am a strong believer in the saying that goes, “What Goes Around Comes Around”. If we take care and do good for others, we will certainly have good done upon us one day or another. We must always keep that in mind.

What is the solution for this?

How can stress be reduced in the IT world?

The answer, may be surprising, but is very simple:

Creative dance Education

Dance, as a balanced social, physical, emotional and spiritual activity, touches every part of us.

The study of creative dance deepens our understanding of movement expression as a basic human need.

Through dance we can connect to our inner selves as well as to others transcending barriers of language, race and gender, with the potential to overcome negative attitudes due to different economical, social, religious and cultural backgrounds. At the same time we maintain our own particular identity. Creative educational dance uses our natural abilities to encourage potential and inspire confidence while the movement vocabulary of the participants continuously develops.

Dance as a stress reliever

“There is a dancing bone in every body” said a prolific philosopher. Dancing is known to have a number of beneficial effects. After a good bout of dance, the release of endorphins is immense. The reasoning behind this is simple – if you are dancing to tune that you enjoy, you tend to grin and smile a lot more than you ordinarily would.

Dance and its forms reduce the occurrence of wrinkles to almost 63 per cent.
Dance therapy is recognized world over as a methodology to bring down the stress. Commonly known as DMT, Dance Movement Therapy is the psychotherapeutic use of movement (and dance) for emotional, cognitive, social, behavioural and physical conditions. It is a form of expressive therapy.

Dance therapy is founded on the premise that the body and mind are an interrelated continuum (refer body-mind), that the state of the body may affect mental and emotional wellbeing in manifold ways. In contrast to artistic dance, which is usually concerned with the aesthetic appearance of movement, dance therapy explores the nature of all movement. Through observing and altering the kinaesthetic movements of a client, dance movement therapists diagnose and help solve various psychological problems. As any conscious person can move on some level, this therapy can work with any population.

The research article titled, “Manifestation, Attribution and Coping with Depression among Asian Indians from the Perspective of Health Care Practitioners” published in the Journal of Transcultural Nursing in 2005 discusses in some detail how the Indian social and religious beliefs impacts us in the US and how those affected with a mental disorder cope with the illness in the US.

The primary reason for Asian Indians not seeking help in the US could be the lack of awareness of resources or the existence of a mental disorder.

Not too long ago Perveen Babi a popular actress in the 70’s and ‘80’s, featured on Time magazine’s cover in 1975, known for her unconventional behavior and roles suffering from paranoid schizophrenia was reported dead on January 20, 2005 in her Mumbai apartment. The oddity of her behavior had been reportedly witnessed by several on numerous occasions. It is said that many tried to help her as best as they could. But alas it was too late. In her later years she lived her last years as a recluse with diabetes. Mahesh Bhatt’s semi-autobiographical movie Who Lamhe is his tribute to their relationship.

Recently there have been a handful of other movies like Hiding Diva, 15 Park Avenue, and Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara that deal with mental disorders, but by an large mental illness remains hush-hush because of the social stigma attached to such illnesses.

Diseases such as diabetes, heart conditions, cancer can easily be blamed on stress, eating habits, and the environment. Some of us even proudly go out in public with our several inches bigger than healthy waist-line because of our age-old belief that the size of our bellies or being overweight reflects our prosperity. But most people suffering from mental illness go unnoticed in society. If they do get attention, it is not the correct type of attention. This is not necessarily because medical help or support might not be available, but because of the barriers associated with seeking and receiving help.

How does one explain to society at large that their autistic child is not their fault? Or the fact that their child has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is not their fault? And neither is depression or anxiety in their spouse or child?

How do make sure we do not commit suicide or are not responsible for helping our loved ones try to take their lives?

Our first instinct is to immediately deny that no such thing could happen to us. Because we are after all one of the most educated, affluent, upward mobile and politically savvy ethnic immigrant community. We are Indian-Americans.

But let us not forget that we have left our homes to make a new home in a foreign county, some of us voluntarily and others not so voluntarily. Even to the most adaptable of us, this can prove to be stressful. Once we arrive, we have to adjust, accommodate, keep compromise, and keep proving to our selves and others 24/7 that we are just as good, if not better than others at what we do. At some time or another we face depression, anxiety, stress, isolation, feelings of guilt, pressure trying to assimilate into mainstream American culture outside our homes. In the case of some of us, these symptoms are heightened by socio-economic status, family structure, work conditions, cultural expectations, violence, generation gaps, and the universal gender discrimination.

Whereas elderly women report feeling isolated due to lack of established family and social networks, which served as support systems back home.

What and where does this get us? We get to keep our jobs, climb professional ladders, put our kids in good schools, and do our best to make sure their lives are secure at the expense of our health and families. We even try to get dual citizenships.

At the end of it all, if things don’t always work out as we expected or would have liked to, what then? Whom do we turn to? With the change in our family and social structures talking to a friend or two is not always a viable option.

In general, feelings are kept bottled in going day in and day out about our business. And it works for most of us, because perhaps we expect a certain level of disappointments, misery, stress, and aliments because we are originally from another country, belong to more than one place, in more than one sense. We speak differently to the native’s; our English is not quite of the Queens. Ours has color, whereas there is bland. We know this and even make light of our accents and differences during stressful moments in our lives as foreigner. But how do we face problems that persist and do not going away in spite our trying to make light of them?

It not surprising that November 2006 results from the Asian American paper drawn from the first larger National Latino and Asian American Study (NLAAS) showed that overall Asian immigrants have a lower prevalence of a mental illness compared to all Americans (almost half, about 25 percent).

For this paper, the researchers interviewed from May 2002 to November 2003 nearly 2,100 native-born or immigrant Asian Americans who were 18 or older. Participants included 600 Chinese, 520 Vietnamese, 508 Filipinos and 467 other Asians including Japanese, Koreans and Asian Indians.

However, according to the National Institutes of Health (NIH), based on NLAAS, US born children of Asian immigrants are not so fortunate where mental health is concerned. They have more lifetime cases of mental disorders. What is disconcerting is not only that Asian American immigrants seek less help, but also their children show similar patterns in terms of seeking mental health care compared to the general population.

The burden of mental illness is high among Asian Americans. This is reflected in the high statistic for suicides rates, more so in the immigrants from India.

A study done by Patel SP showed that suicide rates of young women immigrants from the Indian subcontinent are consistently higher than those of their male counterparts and of young women in the indigenous populations of the countries to which they immigrate. In most cases, family conflicts appear to be the precipitating factor. More research is needed on the epidemiology of psychiatric illnesses and their contribution to suicide in Indian immigrants.

It is not surprising that Asian Americans show lower rates in terms of seeking help for mental disorders. The associated stigma and importance to social status does not make things easier. In the study presented at American Psychological Association 2005 Annual Convention in Washington, D.C., the investigators found that 74 percent of Asian-American NLAAS participants said they had experienced some kind of unfair treatment and 63 percent attributed such instances to racial factors.

It has been speculated the disparities in treatment could be due to the unfamiliar culture or their proficiency of the English language, making seeking treatment less important.

Unfortunately, when Asian Americans with mental illnesses do present to primary care providers, providers often find it difficult to identify their patients’ mental disorders, because typically these patients present to their primary care physician with somatic (physical) symptoms such as dizziness, aches, and pains. Doctors don’t tend to ask about mood and feelings, making mental illness under diagnosed in such patients.

Lack of understanding different cultural sensitivities further hinders accurate diagnoses, since unlike other illnesses mental disorders can be diagnosed only from verbal and nonverbal communications with a doctor.

According to the US Surgeon General’s Report, finally when Asian Americans do use mental health services, severity of disturbance tends to be high, because of the delay in seeking appropriate treatment.

When Asian Americans do get prescriptions for their mental health, successful treatment with drugs is often times less, because compliance is low due to more side effects compared with Caucasians or other the races. In short, a lot more needs to be done towards helping Asians have better mental health in terms of medical practices. After all they are an influential race in America in terms of education and financial progress of the country.

It is not surprising that the supplement released by The US Surgeon General in 2001 to a report on mental health entitled “Culture, Race, and Ethnicity,” states that “culture counts” in the diagnosis and treatment of the identified ethnic groups.

The clearly increasing cultural diversity of the country requires that physicians without ambiguity understand how cultural differences impact diagnosis and treatment.

According to the February 2007 survey report released by American Community Asians released there are at least 12 million Asians, a 4.2 percent of the total population, and the number is increasing rapidly. According to a May 2006 CNN report there was a 3 percent increase in Asians in the US from 2004 to 2005, yet the US Surgeon General’s Report shows that there are only about 70 Asian Americans providers available for every 100,000 Asian Americans in the U.S., compared to 173 per 100,000 Caucasians.

The dilemma with mental health is that most consider “Asian Americans” as a single entity, wherein the term includes more at least 43 different ethnic subgroups originating from different countries and speaking over 100 languages and dialects, making effective communication on both patient and physician side challenging and reporting of accurate analyses. Pacific Islanders are also lumped in under the term.

No reliable information is available regarding the Asian language capabilities of mental health providers in the U.S. To add to the problem, overall about 21 percent of Asian Americans lack health insurance compared to 16 percent of all Americans.

The Centers for Disease Control Fact Sheet indicates that disparities in mental health between races in the US exist. Only 25 percent of Asian Americans are likely as whites and 50 percent likely as African Americans and Hispanics to seek outpatient care and are less likely than whites to receive inpatient care, which largely accounts for their under-representation in most mental health services.

If these trends continue, rates for Asian Americans with mental health problems will rise dramatically, especially since we know that patients with chronic illness such as diabetes tend to have a higher prevalence of depression, impacting costs from every angle and at each level.

It is obvious that more needs to be done for this group in terms of research, prevention and treatment, in particular for the Indian-Americans as it has been reported that the suicide statistics for immigrants in general from the Indian subcontinent are at least 2 to 3 fold higher (particularly in the UK) compared to other countries in Southeast Asia.

More needs to be done so that the Asian American community seeks more help before mental health crises.

It is the responsibility of parents to do whatever it takes to ensure that their children are protected and in safe hands at all times. If something is bound to happen then it will happen and we cannot be prepared for the inevitable however we can at least take some safety measures ourselves to prevent something serious from happening. After all, our children are the future. Not only do they need us to guide them but we also need them to give us the drive and direction in life to live and let live. To also help carry us through those difficult times. If there is one thing that will always exist then that would be the unconditional love of a mother or father for their beloved children. I am sure today if we nurture them, groom them and discipline them well enough, then hopefully they shall grow up and take care of us in our old age or at least give us some of their precious time and attention. Sometimes I wonder how careless some parents can actually be when it comes to their children and their children’s’ well being.

Right now I can just recall a particular day about 2 years ago, that I remember very clearly in my mind about such careless parents. Now I am sure this would only be one example, whereas you can only imagine how many others there are out there.

It was only 10 minutes after finishing off from a hair appointment in a little strip plaza nearby my house, I picked up the payphone to make an important call home. It had only been a few minutes into the conversation when all of a sudden I noticed a toddler perhaps not even 2 years old running and screaming through the food court while tears were bursting from her eyes. I could not help but notice how helpless she looked. I started taking note of who it was, that was behind her or there to run and grab her as she looked ever so desperate to perhaps find her mother who was not nowhere in sight. She continued running past all the onlookers who didn’t seem to take this situation too seriously. I was just appalled as I saw this entire scene taking place right before my eyes and even more astonished as to why no one had gotten up to do anything about it by now.

I felt at that very moment that I had to do something to help out this little girl before she got hurt or was taken away by some unknown stranger. When I noticed that she was headed towards the exit doors, I abruptly hung up the phone while in the midst of a conversation and just started running after this screaming, frightened child. During this ordeal I started sweating myself as I ran faster just to catch up to her so that I could grab her before she stepped foot onto the middle of the road. Yes, it did make me feel like ‘SuperWoman’ for a moment but I knew there was just no other choice. Luckily I made it just in time and held on to her arm and apparently her father came running up behind me while she continued to cry. He was in complete shock at the time however he did have a relieved look on his face. I could tell his heart was probably pumping faster than ever after seeing how scared his toddler was because she had somehow managed to walk away from her parents while they were strolling in the plaza.

Although the ending of this little story was a happily ever after one, not all endings with such circumstances that involves children are as happy. We have to pay much more attention to our children and we must learn to take care of their every need while we are away from home with them. That is where good parenting comes in and I must say that parenting is NOT an easy task. With the story told above, the little girl could have been struck by an oncoming vehicle or if no one had been paying attention long enough, she could have been kidnapped or stolen. Even if they are not your own children, they do still belong to someone and are just as precious. So it is all up to us to do what we have to do to take care of them and give them our undivided attention as much as possible. That should certainly help to avoid those close calls.

All I really desired was to test the untested; I had just asked you to comeback to me forever. All I did was let you go, hoping and desiring that for once you would come back to me and say that you loved me equally as much and could not live without me, just like I found it impossible to move on.

It was always a secret wish to be loved by someone for whom your presence affected so much that life would feel incomplete without. But what shocked me the most was the fact that it was so simple for you to just break the trust that was covering my existence like a mother’s womb, and leave. Just Leave…Walk Away…Move On.

The sound of your voice still haunts me, when you said “Are you sure, you never want to call me again. Ever?”

Laughing in the middle (like mockery at my sudden discovery of courage to breathe without you) you said “so you are not even going to SMS me?”

I stayed calm (don’t know how a sudden peace had filled my restless soul) and I said “Yes! I won’t call you, you will call me on my birthday (2 months from then), you know where I live; I will wait for your arrival on that date.)

You said “Are you sure?? (I could sense that your male ego had kicked in).

I said “Yes!!! (With my mind swirling in front of my eyes).

And then the phone went “Click”. I disconnected! With not a single sound around me or inside me; I walked towards my home. Not knowing what this simple test of love would bring me in the coming days….I needed to sleep. I had just taken the heaviest step of my life.