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Today I heard the news of a Marathi film producer who had committed suicide after putting up a Facebook post about ending his life. In fact, he also got riled that people were liking the post but not reaching out to him.So, he apparently chastised his followers, consumed poison, and died.
What struck me is that a couple of days ago (or was it yesterday), I had put up a post asking for some kind of prayer to help me get through the news of the raped girl. One friend sent me a hug. I got several views on that post but no comments. Since I have been on social media, especially blogger, for a long while now I know that views don't really translate into connect. In fact, in every office that I have worked, people have read my blog but never come right out to say that they have read it. Even for the posts where I expressed distress, etc., the people who read my blog by night and made eye contact with me by day did not reach out. I wonder if they were embarassed. Anyway, I think that when you write to express something, the expression itself must be the coping mechanism. When the anxiety is out, the strength unspools. It is best not to expect commiseration.
I feel really sad about the producer. He had reached out.
What struck me is that a couple of days ago (or was it yesterday), I had put up a post asking for some kind of prayer to help me get through the news of the raped girl. One friend sent me a hug. I got several views on that post but no comments. Since I have been on social media, especially blogger, for a long while now I know that views don't really translate into connect. In fact, in every office that I have worked, people have read my blog but never come right out to say that they have read it. Even for the posts where I expressed distress, etc., the people who read my blog by night and made eye contact with me by day did not reach out. I wonder if they were embarassed. Anyway, I think that when you write to express something, the expression itself must be the coping mechanism. When the anxiety is out, the strength unspools. It is best not to expect commiseration.
I feel really sad about the producer. He had reached out.
Comments
Reaching out is an act of commitment in and of itself. It is a massive step forward. And isn't that really the beauty and sadness of our world? That the yin and yang exist simultaneously but somehow don't always (if ever) find each other. There are questions and there are answers; there are people distressed and people wanting to help out; there are writers and there are readers. And yet, in spite of it all, so much is still and always unresolved.
Of course, apart from this, there is pure apathy, numbness, and general desensitization that are part of it all as well. But that is the shitty, non poetic side of it.
Not advocating anything here, but if someone is seeking closure on any issue in life (or life itself) I can sort of understand. Unless you are able to offer actual medicine to go with it, a mere band-aid or a sedative isn't of much help. As I said, goes back to your life view.
On a separate note, I also think small things like screening comments for moderation etc., can spurn away someone in distress from reaching out. Cuz I imagine, at that point, for a person looking so badly for an outlet, even the slightest roadblock can be a sign to just keep to themselves.
In the letter, he the producer has written that he had wanted to consume poison for a few days but lost the nerve and so he had been drinking instead. Do you see...can you...Do you not think that even a 'ray of hope, however small, however trite - might have helped? You get to the real solutions if you live through a dark night, no? He had tried. He was using alcohol for a few nights in a row and then he wrote a post...and no-one said anything.
I guess collectively we can all try to let ourselves off the hook by saying whatever we say to our selves. But you know all the messages out there that are telling people about not suffering in silence, et...many who take their lives are NOT suffering from silence. They used their voices. They didn't get heard.
But tell me something? Would you have written this if you I was not allowing anonymous comments? I don't know if you have a blog or something - but if you do, you know exactly the kind of crappy messages that come in. I cannot allow that. I have to keep my head above water befoe I help someone else.
But my question to you again - why are you anonymous? Have we met? Do I know you?
If I was to think of it as an optimist, I'd think a little bit like you; maybe someone could have talked to him, given him hope, and maybe that would have turned a new page, one that would hopefully lead to a new, positive, fulfilling life.
As a pessimist, I'd think talking to someone would only make the suffering worse. Nobody really cares about anyone else but themselves. Talk is cheap. You utter a few hollow platitudes in someone's direction but eventually leave them to their own devices, to do as they would. You move on, and the person is left just as miserable, a little bit more drained, with one fewer person in the world to potentially make it better for them.
If I was to think of it as a nihilist, I'd say good for him. Life wasn't working out for him and he decided to fix that by ending it. Why is that so bad?
You see? That's the thing. There is no way for us to know. We can only project our life view on the situation and read it back to ourselves. That is why I am just not sure if someone reaching out would have helped him or made it worse, for him. Him being the operative word. This should be about him. Not about you and I sleeping better at night. And we just have no way of knowing what would be good for him, because we haven't lived his life. I wish I was as convinced about it as you are.
And commenting anonymously only helps stay true to the topic. If I am someone you know, you are going to look at what I am saying through a lens of your impression of me. If I am someone you don't know, we will start to get to know each other, and that would adulterate any future conversation. This way, we keep it a little more objective. How do you even know if I am the same person who's commented above! :)
If you ever need to reach out to anyone, write to me. I don't believe that platitudes don't work. I don't believe that there are any platitudes. So for whatever it's worth, you can reach out to me. mukta.raut@gmail.com.