Of Fairytales and Hope

Lavanya looked up from her laptop once more to glance at the person sitting opposite her at the airport. And for the third time, the guy yawned heavily while flicking through her book. Her book! She didn’t know how to feel about this. Over the years, she had learnt not to take these things to heart. She had trained herself to accept disinterest and criticism towards her work. It sort of came with the territory of being a novice, small-scale writer but it was definitely one of those things that was easier said than done. After all, he was reading the book she had written; painstakingly, tirelessly and he was halfway to the land of nod. If that wasn’t reason enough to burst her little writer bubble, she didn’t know what was.

‘Excuse me?’ she interrupted him, trying to keep her tone of voice mellow

The man looked up, a little startled. He was an elderly gentleman, probably in his late fifties, dressed for comfort in a simple grey sweater and worn out jeans.

‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ Lavanya apologized, ‘but I couldn’t help noticing the book you’re reading.’

He seemed confused for a second.

‘This one?’ he held the book up at her.

‘Yes, I saw it in the bookstore here and was thinking of buying it for my flight. Is it any good?’ Lavanya asked. She wrote under a pseudo name anyway and her picture wasn’t anywhere on the cover so there was no fear of her little white lie getting caught.

‘Right,’ the man looked at the book again, his gaze thoughtful, ‘It’s worth a read, I guess.’ He shrugged non-committal.

‘You don’t seem too impressed,’ she pointed out.

He looked a little surprised that she had noticed, ‘I found it a little average. But that’s just me, ofcourse,’

Lavanya felt her stomach plummet.

Average?! She had spent a year of her life writing that and then, even more time convincing publishers that the story was worth putting out there. Even though her mantra –accept criticism fairly –started chanting in her mind, the egoistical author in her reared its head. Her story couldn’t be that passable.

‘That’s too bad’, she mumbled. She gave herself a moment to recuperate and then tried finding an opening to discuss it further. ‘Doesn’t it deal with the topic of depression?’

‘It does.’

She waited for him to continue, maybe even share his views on the book but he just sat there, looking into the distance, with the slightest of frowns on his face.

‘Has the author not done justice to the subject? Maybe she wasn’t sensitive enough?’ Lavanya prompted.

‘Oh she has done her research alright and to be honest, the story is not bad. It’s just…’ he trailed, looking for the right words ‘maybe I was expecting more.’

‘I don’t want to spoil the story for you.’ He continued, smiling kindly at her ‘Maybe you should read and decide for yourself.’

There was something in his voice. She didn’t sense indifference; just a little disappointment.

Lavanya had her moments of self-doubt as a struggling writer but she had never been so blind so as to not probe for constructive feedback when the opportunity arose. Her ego would just have to take a backseat here. Yes, it was disappointing when her work wasn’t appreciated but she could take it. She had handled worse.

‘Or I could listen to your opinion on it and then decide. It would save me the extra cost.’

He laughed.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

‘Deal,’ she smiled.

‘Well then, let’s see’ he looked thoughtful.

‘The male protagonist in the story is a young boy in college suffering from clinical depression. He stays withdrawn and isolated from everyone, because nobody seems to understand him or the struggles he faces on a daily basis. Friends and family try and help out in their own way but nothing seems to really work. Things change for him when he befriends a girl in one of his classes. With her help, he quickly snaps out of his condition and is able to turn his life around. The story then goes on to show how he reconnects with family and friends, graduates, get a great job, gets the girl, lives happily ever after bla bla bla’ the last few words were finished with a bit of a scoff.

‘Not a fan of love stories?’ Lavanya asked.

‘Quite the opposite, actually,’ he smiled, ‘but not in this case, no. I felt the author oversimplified the health condition in her aim of giving the main characters a happy ending.’

‘What’s wrong with a happy ending?’ Lavanya challenged.

‘Nothing,’ he explained, gently, ‘Except depression is not a switch that can be turned on or off at will to suit a fairytale. It is a medically diagnosed disorder – not a byproduct of someone’s romantic imagination. You shouldn’t have to wait for the arrival of Cindrella or Prince Charming to ask for help. Nor should you have to put a timeline to your healing process in order to catch up with others. Mental health is important and more people need to be talking about it but while we are at it, we need to be talking reality, not some made-up dramatic version of things. People battling depression are not abnormal nor are they crazy. They are regular people who go to school, graduate, get a job, travel and spend time with their family. Yes, they have some very, very hard days but they also have regular days. Life is not lived in extremes now, is it? It’s not like if your life is not perfect all the time, then it is automatically terrible.  There is a middle ground and that’s where a lot of people dealing with depression find themselves. I feel the author failed to depict this reality in her book.’

There was silence while Lavanya thought over his words. When she had written the book, she had never looked at it from this perspective. Had she really oversimplified a topic that needed more awareness in todays world than ever before?

‘Not to underplay the seriousness of anything but maybe what the author was trying to show is that having a mental health disorder doesn’t mean your life is over, that there is light at the end of the tunnel.’ she stated.

‘If that was the intention, then I’m afraid it didn’t translate over too well. There is no denying the power of love and emotional support in such situations. God knows, we need more people to be able to show compassion towards these issues but what the author wrote was that the boy could only find his happiness after he was ‘fixed’ or ‘cured’; that while he was still suffering from depression, he was somehow not lovable enough for a partner or good enough to get a great job.’

By this point, Lavanya didn’t care if he figured out who she was. His analysis of the story was a little jarring.

‘True,’ she said softly, ‘but it seems to me that maybe the story was meant to give hope to anyone dealing with depression. To say that even if you do suffer from a mental health disorder, you can still make it.’

The man contemplated that for a moment before answering. ‘Just because someone is suffering from a mental health disorder doesn’t mean happiness has to remain elusive to them. Would you say someone who has cancer somehow cannot fall in love or graduate with distinction? Yes, we all have our share of physical and emotional struggles but through it all, can’t we still have our moments of love and happiness and success? I think that would be a message of hope now, wouldn’t it?’

Lavanya acknowledged his point with a slight nod.

‘Maybe I’m being too harsh,’ the man conceded, ‘but when you have the medium to reach out to a large audience at hand, it places a certain sense of responsibility on the shoulders of the messenger. You then need to handle that responsibility carefully. Wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Absolutely,’ It was a point she was not going to argue. There was too much truth to it.

‘I hope I didn’t completely ruin the story for you?’ He looked apologetic. ‘As I said, it’s not a bad read.’ He offered her the book, ‘If you’d like, you can start reading my copy and if it appeals to you, maybe then go buy it?’

‘Thank you,’ she accepted the book gratefully. Then, gathering all her courage she asked, ‘do you know someone suffering from a mental health disorder? It seemed to me like you were speaking a lot from personal experience.’

He smiled, ‘I do, as a matter of fact. My daughter has been battling depression for a while.’ Looking a little forlorn he said, ‘I hope she doesn’t think that because of that she is any less lovable. In fact I bought this book thinking that if it was a positive read, I might even share it with her. Safe to say that is definitely not an option,’

With a slight grimace, he handed the book back to Lavanya and excused himself to grab a cup of coffee.

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This little piece in all it’s flaws is dedicated to someone very close to my heart. I have seen the struggle and I have also seen the smiles and optimism through it. You may not realize this but your strength gives me hope. The sky is the limit and I’ll always be here to have your back <3