If Depression Were A Boy I Dated – Nandita Kochar | The Storytellers

If Depression Were A Boy I Dated
Dear Depression, somedays, I wish you were a delicious gentleman
I had met at the bar on a Sunday night. Maybe then the high pitched voices of my girlfriends
would have surrounded your name the next morning and not a silence that makes one’s
stomach cringe. Maybe then the Punjabi Tinder, I call ‘mumma’
would have shown much more interest when my trembling hands tried to echo the way you
took me in your embrace, for the first time, on that
night of 7th March,2016. when
I could not bring myself to leave the outline of my bed. I could not pull the covers off this structure
even though beads of sweat ran down my spine. I could not reach for the plate of food, lying
at an arm’s distance; food my stomach strongly desired but my mind had no appetite for. when
I could not scratch down the black chart papers that covered every possible place through
which the light rays of the setting sun could sneak
in to dismantle this darkness I now found myself
enveloped in. I could not. I just could not. So I stayed in bed, in your spine chilling
embrace all night. Dear Depression,
somedays, I wish the gifts that you left at my doorstep, were as
romantic as the stones and shells I’d get back for
my memory trunk, each time I visited the hills or the sea. Maybe then I’d show
someone the razor sharp scars you left on my thighs. Or the jute chain you had tried
tying around my neck, one night. Oh and do you remember that cosmetic you’d
gifted me because only you knew how the date carved on its crimp would remind me of a machine, a machine
that would carve one more date someday, but on a grave this time. Dear Depression,
somedays, I wish the voice mails that you left on my number, brought me the same kind of love
as the love one fills up with while resting her head
on her mumma’s lap at the end of a consuming day love, one didn’t have to put up a performance for Maybe then, instead of breaking down at the beginning of each session. I could have
looked right into the eyes of my therapist and told her how your numbing words had crept
into each part of my being. A being who had to push her lips up as she stood in front of the mirror, trying to
catch the reflection of a lost smile. A being who felt ashamed each time
she looked at her feet for this feet occupied space, a space where something more useful than herself
could have grown. A being, who wanted to apologise to everyone
for the very fact that she was breathing. Maybe then, my therapist
wouldn’t have had to constantly ask me to begin or rephrase my sentences using an ‘I’.
If you’re still reading this letter and haven’t already thrown it into the shredder machine,
Let me tell you of the days I wished that the dates with you that followed tasted like the pleasant smell that escapes
the scorching ground as the fresh rain drops fall on it. Maybe then all those times when you sat back
and watched me stutter when someone asked me what was ‘wrong’
with me only to quieten down my murmurs with “ Get your act together, woman!”,
two minutes later or cry till my eyes had no more water left to spare, wouldn’t have been times that left a taste
so bitter on my tongue. Somedays,I wish I could confidently point my finger at a cross on the calendar to show someone
the exact date on which the love between us began to sour. Maybe then I could have told you that the
reason behind me not responding to your texts or calls for
weeks to come was that as you serenaded ‘me’ in that dungeon each
night, I gradually realised how it was actually not
‘me’ but the five year old Nandita who was dancing
to your tunes all this time. Tunes of cries and fits of anger, she learned
very early on in life, would make up for all the times
when her smiles, her giggles her laughter went unheard. Unnoticed. Tunes of melancholia that became comforting
and familiar for playing them was the only way she knew to get her ma’s undivided attention. Tunes that the scratched record refused to
play one night, as you brought your cracked cold lips
close to mine, because the five year old me had finally decided to lift the pin off the
record. Its been
a month has passed since I walked out the door. You’ve tried to reach for me
again and again inside those crumpled letters of hate I wrote
to myself that fall off from my diary every now and
then Or during conversations where the spotlight suddenly
turns on me in a group of ten or
at the end of those afternoon naps that stretch into the evenings; evenings that haunt you
with the cries of a lost day. But that night
I did not just walk out the door I did not just abandon the moss covered walls
of the dungeon in search of the fireflies outside That night
I abandoned your darkness in search of the light within. Dear Depression,
As you read my final words to you, a flickering jar of fireflies is waiting right
at your doorstep I hope, someday,
the torn apart pieces of this letter and the still glowing broken shards of glass, lying on the floor of your dungeon,
are able to give some strength to the girl the girl, who probably by now, would have sipped
the drink you offered to buy her, at the bar, on a Sunday night

54 thoughts on “If Depression Were A Boy I Dated – Nandita Kochar | The Storytellers

  1. Don't take me wrong bt i really want it's translated video so that i can share it with my village frnds…
    So if possible then plzzzzz provide it to me.

  2. a beautiful example of how melodious words in stories and poems can even bring out the most unmelodious events so gently

  3. Great work! Your choice of words really conveyed all the varied emotions so well. And such a brilliantly drawn analogy! I'm looking forward to your next video! πŸ™‚

  4. That some Iron lady symptoms.I think writing down your insecurity and torch it doesn't work anymore.A problem not discussed is an insecurity.And I find this method does the job.Nandita you won the bout😊 and you are on whole be level.cheers

  5. This just reminded me of someone going through the same ordeal. Beautiful written and eloquently spoken. Thanks for sharing

  6. Relating to it in every possible manner. But only can't utter a single word about it all still. amazing work!

  7. I actually had tears in my eyes by the time I finished reading this. That was another level altogether. Great work!

  8. "… evenings that haunt you with the cries of a lost day." That really resonated. Brilliant presentation. Strength and peace to the world.

  9. It was beautiful. I wish I could reach out to her and tell her how much I could relate and how beautifully it was written. I've been watching videos all evening and that's pretty much the only thing I do in my free time and this video really touched me and it's probably the best I've come across in a very long time. Wonderfully written and spoken. Loved every second of it.

  10. One of the most hard hitting pieces I have ever heard. Such powerful words! Painful to hear but proud of her. And proud of you all out there for surviving it all and emerging as the Winner. The Survivor.

  11. got goosebumps by d tym u were narrating d last lines πŸ˜… beautifully narrated.thanks for sharing😊

  12. Every emotion is so beautifully yet truthfully depicted. It was like you were speaking everything which I have always wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. It was wonderful watching yjis video

  13. why do they write so hard that it becomes tough to understand for students like me who has studied in hindi medium school……πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€”

  14. I m not able to get your thinking is very nice , why should we date depression? Can you please through some more light πŸ˜ƒ

  15. Plz nadita stop re living the pain u hv already lived in for sooΓ²ooo many years.. u do not deserv this .. try to forget n move n smile n be contended.. i kno im sounding lik amma ji.. bt trust me this is comeing frm smbdy who hv lived a diformity in entire body for 25yrs now..n understand the feeling of helplessness
    Do not liv in this pain… it gone.. n let it go frm ur heart

  16. Okay this is deep but you put this painful heart wrenching story in a beautiful way I must say……..

  17. Mam I'm suffering OCD last 7 years I don't know what I'm doing my life becoming hell…..it's toooo much pain living with ocd and dipressen….really I'm in dark god knows when I recover from this ocd

  18. It's such a beautiful concept….All credit To the creators of this platform… KOMMUNE INDIA. For those battling with tormenting things every day, it's kind of both inspiration and relief. For it makes one realize that they are not alone. Makes one feel a kindred spirit with such speakers.

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