A silent killer lurks behind emojis
Rushed hellos and half-forgotten chats is how communication occurs in a fast-paced age
In a world controlled by technology, in which real intimacy is steadily, silently and nonchalantly replaced by emojis, it is now more important than ever to remember that there is no substitute for communication that makes us so uniquely human. The real communication where words are heard not seen, where a hug is felt not sent in an emoticon that has a face and two arms, where a kiss is physical, not posted in a smiley and a mouth that is puckered in red, where concern is expressed through gestures not virtual flowers.
While most of your life is recorded in selfies and photographs of the big moments of your day, what remains invisible is the strain behind the happy smile, the unshed tears hidden behind mascaraed eyelashes, the unsaid words of a lipstick-ed mouth, the questions of a mind that is in turmoil, the anguish of a heart that is restless. Photographs and quotes become your story, as you wander into the transience of Snapchat, the virtual, where everything is looked at without being seen, where nothing is heard despite constant wording of every thought that goes in your mind.
On December 1, as I participated in the TEDx Islamabad Women conference, speaking for the first time as a sole speaker instead of being part of a panel, there was pin-drop silence in the hall. I spoke on a subject that was painful to think about, painful to write about, painful to speak about and painful to hear: Suicide of two young women in Lahore, and the issue of depression. The suicide of 26-year-old model Anam Naveed Tanoli and 20-year-old university student Rushaan Farrukh is the agonising darkness that has re-compelled people of all ages to acknowledge the reality of a silent and deadly condition commonly and carelessly known as depression. Anam died on September 1, 2018. Rushaan died on November 26, 2018. I didn’t know them, but the news of their death devastated me. I cried for them many times. May they find their peace.
Depression, the invisible disorder, has the potency to play havoc with a young person’s mind, sucking life out without any physical symptom.
What made me write today was the reaction of the many people in the audience. What I’d not forget in a hurry is what some women in their 20s told me. That my speech resonated with them. What one young woman said deeply moved me: “I loved your speech. Can I hug you?”
All who told me they loved my speech, and were truly affected or moved hugged me. That to me was the best validation of my words that I spoke that day for Anam, Rushaan and all those who suffer in silence. When I left the Crystal Ballroom of the Marriott Islamabad that day, despite feeling awfully sad about the beautiful, the wonderful Anam and Rushaan, there was one feeling of positivity: That my words made some young people think that depression is something many go through, and that it is treatable. That there is always a window that is open. That there is always someone you could talk to when the world seems foreboding and scary. That depression is lonely but it is not the end of the world. And that even when it all seems dark, you are not alone.
Read the ache
Notice, care, reach out. Your words, your presence, your concern and your love can help lessen the feeling of hopelessness, of loneliness, in someone’s life. Before therapy, psychological counselling and anti-depressants are the most important. And the fundamental factor: Empathy. Notice the pain in your loved one’s eyes instead of ‘heart’-ing their photos and posts. Read the ache in the words of a stranger when you ‘favourite’ a post. Anam was reportedly suffering from depression; social media trolling and online bullying were a major catalyst. She was seeing a therapist. She seemed fine. One day, Anam killed herself.
Those who knew her say that the 20-year-old Rushaan seemed happy, and that she smiled all the time. There was just one thing that was there, and that no one noticed: Her months of Instagram posts that were full of angst, signs of pain, hidden pleas for attention, and her one-way journey into pain-free darkness.
No one understood what Rushaan wrote. No one really paid attention.
One day, Rushaan killed herself.