What Depression felt like to me!

Depression-a feeling which coaxes you to stay in bed. A condition wherein your brain goes full circle and comes back to the same place to realize “I am a failure”. Something unthinkable, something mysterious and something which you just can’t define no matter how hard you try to. The only thing that explains your condition is that something is pulling you deeper, trying to shut you inside your own self.


Have you ever been alone at your home? Do you remember that feeling? That silence! Do you remember how you used to switch on the TV, just to make yourself feel a little less alone? Now just imagine that even though the TV is blaring, playing some distant song- you are not hearing anything. You don’t know why? And it feels like your own house will devour you. That is a little what depression felt like to me.
It felt like my own body will devour me one day.

But depression for our society is like Unicorns- it doesn’t exist. A serious mental condition gets reduced to an ‘excuse’ and phrases like “It is just a phase”, “It is a part of growing up.” “Go out for drinks, you will be fine.” “There is no such thing as depression.”
There are so many counter arguments against depression that it becomes really difficult to deal with the problem. Some of us don’t even understand that we are going through a problem-Let alone knowing how to deal with it. And when we can’t  recognize that there is even a problem, how are we supposed to cure it?

You know, it is not really a hornet’s nest to determine whether you are depressed.
When you stop going out, stop enjoying the things that you used to love, start demeaning yourself and secluding yourself from people in general- this a red flag being waved in front of you. A flag which has “Something is wrong!” written in bold letters. But because where we live, a mental illness is considered being insane. And mad people go to mental asylums- one ignominy that we can’t face. So we ignore it. It is better to just stay quiet. To consider it a mere phase.

Even when you play with a blade every night in the bathroom. Even when you write incomplete suicide notes every day. Even when you start feeling that death will be much easier than life. Even when your favorite songs sound like a freaking racket. And your favorite book seems like a big lie.
Even when you stop smiling- it will still be better to consider it just a phase.
Do you know why? Why we like to shun this realization that we might actually be unwell, and rubbish it totally?

Because we are scared to find answers.

“Why did this happen to me?”
“Is there really something wrong with my life?”
“What will I tell papa?”
“How will I react when they say ‘Men don’t feel depressed’?”
“What even led me here?”
An illness comes with a thousand questions. Ones that you ask yourself and then the others that everybody asks you. And because we are the escapist generation, we try to prevent these questions.
And as a result- We let this illness, churn us harder and harder. We let it set us ablaze. We let it win.

There is no bravery in this. Nobody will laud you for all you went through. Everybody will just look past you. Those questions might end one day. But your depression won’t just disappear. You need to consult someone. You need to accept that there is some problem. You need to be honest with yourself. That is bravery. That is app-laudable. The fact that you decided to rise above labels and prejudices- that makes you glorious.

Talk to yourself. Try to introspect what went wrong and tell yourself “It is going to be OK.”

And I cannot say this any louder- get medical attention. Because you don’t deserve this silence. You don’t deserve to be wary of life so soon. You don’t deserve to feel like a failure.
So I request you- break the silence!



I have always been a rebel And it is the nature of each and every organ
In my body
To impart my rebellion to those I touch.

Some say I am a disease,
Don’t talk to me-
For I will make you question
All your foundations.

I might even hex your brain

To think- like you are not supposed to.
To question them-their sanctity,
Their beliefs.

To defy them.
And to produce your own
To cure yourself and others,
Off all that they have taught you.

I might make you a rebel.
And teach you to take your reigns
In your own hands.

And that is something that they can’t stand. For control is all they have.
Control is all they can manage-
To keep you ignorant of your power.

No! I am not a Bimbo.




1.a widely held but fixed and oversimplified image or idea of a particular type of person or thing.

On this planet where we are living, there is an actual redundancy of stereotypes. There are myths prevalant about every race, every religion, every gender and every country. While some of them are categorically funny, some other are actually quite offending.

Like every person in South Africa is a poor, depraved and emaciated human being. Or that every Muslim is a terrorist!

And the list is unending.

We do not even know, and this Stereotype becomes another facet of discrimination- called prejudice.

Now albeit, I have heavily versed rants about these unethical stereotypes , in my mind right now, as of now we are going to voice a tirade, on a comparitively trivial topic- one, which some of you might find funny even.

So amidst all these fatalistic stereotypes, there is a whole new class of very funny stereotypes that about 50 percent of this planet’s population faces-that 50 % being women.

And I being a woman, trying to find my catharsis,am going to take up some of your time to ‘monger’ about these myths about a woman *which are really fucking insulting*

Now, I am a woman- proud of my feminity, a typical butterfly for some. I love shopping. I love dressing up. I even love gossiping. But guess what’s my biggest gaffe-

I absolutely love make-up.

There is something in those well laid out eyeshadow palettes and those perfectly carved lipsticks that just reigns my heart. I can actually spend a thousand bucks on makeup that I do not even require- without feeling even a penny worth of guilt.

And I feel like it is nothing I need to be ashamed of.

Makeup is a freaking art you guys- it takes dedication, patience and MONEY (🙈).

But sadly makeup is actually a very demeaning practice for some.

For in our society-

The Extent of ‘Haath se nikal jaana’ ( going astray)
Is directly proportional to the layers of makeup a woman wears.

And The inteligence of that woman is inversely proportional to those layers.

So fair to say, a makeup maniac like me is deemed immature- and basically the only profession that is actually fit for me is that of a ‘Heroine’.

‘Oh, you want to be an engineer? Itna make up karke toh tu heroine hi banja.’ (You can become an actress with the amount of makeup you have on your face).

And most boys (especially) have a very weird relationship with makeup.

It is as of they are ‘Mowgli’ and my lipstick is ‘Sher Khan’.

They are actually pretty scared of makeup.

I remember I once posted a photograph of my makeup products (because #proudmom bitches),

And I got a message from a boy.
And man, was he not in hysterics!

‘THISSS MUCHH MAKEUP’ *terrified face smiley*

I was really worried for a moment- Like Brother, do you need an Ambulance?

I don’t get it- who gives you the moral responsibility to tell a girl that she wears too much make up. And then you try to throw mud at it by saying

“You look prettier without makeup. Boys don’t like girls who wear a lot of makeup.”

What the actual fuck! Why, pray tell me, why do boys think that I get all dolled up for them. Them- who do not even know that pink has several different variations. And that ‘Nude’ is a color here, not the state of being naked!

And then there were comments like-

‘Boy -I didn’t know you wear so much makeup!’


Really- so you thought I was born with purple eyelids?

What is even the level of stupidity here.

You don’t have to like makeup but you can still accept it, cum grano salis.

So here is the deal-

Just because I wear makeup- that does not make me a ‘Bimbo’. I am pretty capable of funding myself. Yes! I can even drive a car. and No! I am not searching for a husband,for crying out loud!

And I,sure as hell, am not a slatternly wannabe who wants to attract as much attention as it is humanly possible.

I do this- because I want to! None of your argument is valid.

And this is an actual plea from all of the men and women who like makeup-



You may purify my mind.
But how would you wash away
The sins lodged inside my skin?
Or the vice which is mixed in my blood.
For I worship a human being,
More than the God
Who haunts the skies above.

I have tried engaging my heart in God who,they say, resides in temples, in idols made of clay. Tried praying to the empty clear sky, for they say he is up there somewhere. But I am always dubious, as to how I am expected to believe in something that no one has ever seen.

Am I supposed to worship
a figment of my imagination,
or the firmness of a belief-
or the institution that they call religion?

Why should I not worship, say , my mother instead. She is flesh and blood. Palpable and alive. I have prayed to her, and she has answered my prayers.

Or my father, who picked me up when I fell down, and tended to my wounds, and sang me to sleep when I was scared of monsters.

I have seen people kill people
And people save people.

How shall I believe in Satan, with two big red thorns,
When I see humans ,who look like me, make this world the very hell he resides in.

And how do I believe in a holy phantom, clad in white,
When I see humans ,who look like me, doing his work
Of salvaging the mankind and redeeming this destroyed world.

// to the Gods whon I have never seen,
And to the Gods whom I always do//


I was a gulf too deep for you,
You were aquainted with shallow waters.

What did you expect?
That you would best me?
Swim through my currents,
Climb over my waves,
Fathom my depth,
Which is known to be invincible?

You didn’t learn from the deceased adventurers-
The fools who tried their luck before you.

Who thought I was petty enough to be an adventure.

But I was their doom, and so I am yours.

So now as you drown deeper,
I hope you enjoy your stay,
For it is going to be a long one.

Smiti Mehrotra