The Bigger Picture

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I was having the worst time of my life. Why? Because I'd just had a horrible fight with my close friend. No, not the one where we argue over whose better, Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal (Federer ofcourse). We had the other kind of fight. The one where the friendship ends.

As if that wasnt enough, my grades were tanking. Life was horrible for me. I would wake up every day, and stare at the ceiling, not knowing what to do.

Sure, I tried to get out the depression. Tried listening to music. Didnt work out. Tried watching a movie. Realised that they havent made any movie that's gripping enough to prevent you from thinking about your miserable life. I spent days just surfing Facebook, until I finally got sick and tired of all the stupid statuses and Farmville notifications. For the first time in my life, I hoped the 'You-Will-Die' predictions on Facebook were right. Would make the world a whole better place, I thought.

Finally, when everything else failed, I decided to share my sorrow with my close buddy Vineet. Have you ever felt as though God was playing a cruel prank on you? That's how I felt after trying Vineet's cell for the sixth time. It was switched off.

My mother, who had made it a habit of reminding me of my last academic performances, started her usual summarizing. I couldnt take it any more. In a fit of anger, I stormed out of my house, and sat on the stairs outside.

Sitting near me was a Lebanese kid, perhaps my age, listening to loud metal song. Why on earth does he have to listen to such junk? I got up, and decided to walk till Vineet's house.

I'd planned out everything I would shout at Vineet when I met him. I was furious at him for being so careless with his mobile. Taking out your anger on your friends, is perhaps one of the best ways to deal with depression.

But everything melted away the moment I saw him standing outside his house. Tears were streaming down his face. And I knew something was horribly wrong.

"What happened?" I asked, consoling him as he broke down in front of me.

"Its....it's my....brother!" He chocked.

That was the last word he spoke for the next hour or so. We spent the whole time walking through the streets. What do you say to a person who's lost his brother in a car crash? I tried talking, not because I believed I could ease his pain, but because I wanted to. Finally, he spoke in a whisper.

"Life was perfect till yesterday. I mean, yah, I wasnt completely happy, but...God, I just wish I could go back to how it was. Just....go back....."

I convinced him to go home and get some rest. As I walked back home, I began thinking...

There was a Professor once, who taught me subjects such as Islamic History, General Studies and so on. He used to talk about how societies are supposed to function. And there is one example he said that's stayed with me all this while.

"What will happen if you cut your finger?" He asked once.

"It'll pain?" I replied.

"Yes, what if you cut it very deeply? What'll happen then?"

"I'll cry, maybe. I dont know..."

"The pain will be terrible, yes? You might cry, you might not. But you'll worry about the cut?"

"Yes."

"Good. And just as your sitting in your house, cursing your bleeding hand, imagine the roof catches fire. Within seconds the whole house is burning. What will you do then?"

"Get out. Run out of the house ofcourse," I said obviously. 

"But what about your finger? It's paining badly, isnt it?"

"Who cares about the finger when the whole house is on fire?" I asked incredulously.

My Professor stopped, and smiled softly. In a second, I understood what he meant.

We all go through tough times in our lives. Yes, we'll lose friends, we'll be alone in a crowd. We might fail in exams. And what can we do about it? Sit and cry? We could. Watch movies, listen to music, smoke cigarrates? Your wish. Or perhaps even pretend as though nothing's wrong, and fake a smile.

But the only way we'll ever get through the pain, is by helping others. And they're all around us. In our classrooms, our tuition classes, at the football match, in the shopping malls. All we have to do, is reach out...and lend a hand.

I reached back home, and saw the Lebanese kid sitting there. This time, I could hear loud, shouting noises from his house. His parents were yelling and screaming at the top of their voices. I looked at the fellow sympathetically.

"Atleast now you know why I listen to this," he said, pointing towards his Ipod.

I smiled sadly. And then sat down next to him. "Hey," I said, not too sure of what I was doing, "What's it like?"

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean, back there," I said, pointing towards his house. "It must suck big time, right?"

He chuckled, and began telling me about his life. And I finally figured out how to get out of my depression...

Note: To those who've noticed,
I'm very sorry for not posting for the past one month. I had my exams going on, followed by my school's Annual Day program, and then the Eid holidays. And by the looks of it, I'll be apologizing like this for quite some time. Exams are coming up again! Still, hope the comments wont dry up...

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