How are you, really?

Today is the 3rd day since Mohanty Babu passed away from a sudden cardiac arrest. A midlevel executive in a government department, he was to retire in May. These days when we see young people in their thirties, fit and fine with no medical history to worry about dropping dead without notice; the death of an almost senior citizen should not raise any eyebrow.

It was just one of those events which happened every day.

 

It was quite a shock for his wife as she had never spotted any signs of illness or stress which could be possibly corroding him from within; ditto his colleagues and relatives. His family stand devastated and distraught.

 

More information emerged about him after the usual chaos and hurly-burly of cremation got over.

 

Mohanty Babu married late because he had to settle his brothers and sisters. Now all of them are settled outside the state, he continued to be the sole bridge of his joint family taking the load of every small and big social and financial issue. He was the local face of his big joint family. He has not been able to build a house for himself and his daughter has just passed +2. His close relatives were naturally concerned. It was obvious that he must have been under a lot of stress and was possibly staring worryingly at the post-retirement life and the liabilities he was saddled with. His calm demeanour and routine lifestyle have successfully camouflaged the fire inside.

 

Are we going through similar worries that are choking us? Have we shared it with anyone close?

Was he alone or many are going through the same phase? Have we tried to spot them and tried to know?

 

When someone says "Hi, how are you?", it is typically a friendly greeting and a way for the person to show that they are interested in your well-being. It is a common greeting in English, but it can be a great way to start a conversation. It shows that you are interested in the other person and that you care about how they are doing. It's a way of asking someone how they are doing, both physically and emotionally. It can be used in both formal and informal settings, but it's more common in informal settings.

 

There are many different ways to respond to "How are you?". Some common responses include "I'm fine, thank you.", "I'm doing well.", "I'm good.", "I'm not too bad.".

The way we are expected to respond will depend on how we are actually doing and how well we know the person we are talking to.

 

If you are close friends with someone, you might be more likely to share more personal information about how you are doing. If you are talking to someone you don't know very well, you might be more likely to give a more general response.

 

A person can ask "Hi, how are you?" as a form of greeting while not being interested in the answer. In some cases, this could be due to habit, social convention, or a lack of genuine interest. In these situations, it's common for people to provide a standard response, even if it is not an accurate reflection of their true feelings.

 

Let’s try to recollect when was the last time we responded by saying "I'm hanging in there.", "I could be better." Or "I'm terrible."? Perhaps never.

 

In the era of social media, we have become accustomed to raving and ranting about the state and projecting a filtered successful and happy picture of ourselves. In this pervasive culture have we turned secretive ourselves or feel that our worries are not anyone’s concern? Or, we have turned passive to others’ worries in the name of not being too inquisitive or respectful of their wishes and privacy?

 

This shows how as individuals we have learnt not to share our worries with others and collectively as a community, we have stopped paying attention to other’s worries. 

 

Men are the biggest victims of this. From their childhood days are taught to be tough. They are socially conditioned not to complain about their pain both physical and emotional, people in their lives, their personal and professional situations and if they do, they are seen as weak, a loser, feminine and a whiner. When he grows up, he learns to accept the situation without complaint and fight it out and to protect the ones he is responsible for like his immediate family by not sharing the details of his problems. He does not want them to get affected by his worries. Somewhere there is that confidence that he can solve it with time, alone.

 

He unknowingly subscribes to the saying – Mard ko kabhi dard nahin hota. In the bargain, he lives like a living pressure cooker ready to explode anytime.

 

The solution lies not in the final resolution of what is causing his worries but in learning to destress himself by sharing his worries with a close confidant or sharing them with the people he wants to protect from these worries.

 

What are we doing to inquire about others' worries with the tone and intention to offer a solution or do our bit to alleviate his fears?

 

The answer to that lies in establishing a close relationship with your near ones where you can spot is worries from a distance and ask, “How are you, really?”

 

Which in no uncertain terms means “Cut the crap! And tell me what's wrong?”, “Dude, you done being so formal? Now tell me what's going on.”, “I know you lied that you're fine. I care for you, tell me what's bothering you.”, “Oh you depressed? You look pretty happy in your pictures. Now please clear the confusion & tell me how you are.”. 

 

Kaifi Azmi captured the same emotions when he wrote his famous song – Tum Itna Kyon muskura rahe ho, kya ghum hai jisko chupa rahe ho.

 

Do we have such a friend in our life who can see the pain behind our smiles and ask us “How are you, really”, and do we have the ability and attitude to say “How are you, really” to a friend who possibly is grappling with pain behind his projected happy façade?

 

Our empathy and sincerity in participating in somebody’s problems will develop a culture that will save dozens of lives around us, including our own.

 

*

What Do You Do?

It was still fifteen minutes to daybreak.

Usually, in the winter season, you don’t expect many people in this part of the park unless they are serious morning walkers. And I was preparing myself for a solitary walk in the misty dark morning.

But I was not alone; there was another walker ahead of me - I had company.

I, with my longer strides, chose to overtake the person who had made it to the park ahead of me. I came close and realized that though his strides are small, he is equally fast. After walking alongside for a few strides and making eye contact with him, I realized that I knew him. Here not wishing him was not an option. We met during some official event maybe a year back.

I wished him by nodding my head and with a smile and he reciprocated, I chose to walk at his pace as it suited me too. And we got talking about things in general. A lot of our interest areas were common. And as is my wont, I was quite candid about putting my tuppence in about things without bothering to know what he thought about it. He voiced his own opinions and agreed with most of mine either by voicing a laugh or by adding his to it and to the ones he didn’t agree with, he remained silent.

Amidst our discussion, he asked me – What do I do?

That’s the Indian way of asking for your professional position. I gave mine. And told him where we met last. I realized that he didn’t recollect our encounter.

I continued with my conversation.

After about ten minutes I realized some change and when I looked at him a little surprised by his reticence, I saw a mask of absolute disinterest in his face. While we were in an animated conversation a few minutes back, it had turned into a monologue. While he agreed with most of my points then, now he is dismissing it with an air of finality to end that topic.

He chose to pause without giving a reason. Almost asking me to go ahead with my walk.

The reason for his changed behaviour did not escape my eyes.

Another incident a few weeks later in the same park.

I saw this man in his late forties, with a typical successful businessman look coming towards me from the opposite side. We got close and he wished me with a Namaskar, and I reciprocated by doing the same. I didn’t know him and was quite touched by his gesture early in the morning. While exiting the park some thirty minutes later, I saw him standing near the gate with a few community members – I knew some of them. The next day almost at the same spot I saw him coming, and as I was gearing up to smile and wish him, he didn’t react. We breezed past each other as two unknown people.

The reason for his changed behaviour didn’t escape my eyes.

Neither of them knew me and was possibly misled by my important-looking appearance. It misleads many. The former, upon knowing my profession (What I do) realized that I don’t belong to his power hierarchy or social league and by mistake he had given me more time and ear to my conversation and chose to detach himself from it as I was not his equal; the latter, upon knowing from my acquaintances about what I do, realized that I am of no immediate value as his contact.

I introspected and realized that I am of no immediate value to most of the people in our community. I live in a community where I am not equal to many in terms of material wealth, power, and position and to those I am superior, I pose no threat to their interest or don’t offer any potential benefit – directly or indirectly. To both segments of people, I am not a potential contact they would like to nurture.

I was worthless to both.

This realization of worthlessness can be devastating to one’s self-worth and ego, especially to those unfamiliar with how Indians operate. Your identity as a person having other talents, capabilities, knowledge, and wisdom pales when put to test in this Risk-Benefit model.

Can you affect their interest negatively because of your position or positively by providing beneficial opportunities that determine your relevance in the community and the related interest to socialize with you or befriend you?

Is this a general behaviour?

While travelling in public transportation like a bus, train or flight, if you strike up a conversation with someone; the fourth or fifth sentence would be a question – What do you do? Don’t read it literally and answer. By that they don’t want to know about what you do at your work, they want to know a lot more. The sector you work in; private or public. The rank and position you hold. The country or city you work in.

Your answer will help him know your ‘Auqat’ – your worth, your value for him, which will make him treat you like God or Dog. The position that will give you an unbridled opportunity to abuse the power with zero accountability is hilariously called ‘Service’. Indians love that trophy behind that service and worship the one who sits there. No wonder we Indians are so obsessed with a few jobs. Either you make it to those positions or at least develop contact with them so that you can enjoy some of the largesse that can come your way.

In the book, Being Indian, Pavan K. Verma surgically bares open this typical trait in the Indians. He deals with this matter in the chapter – Power and how your worth is evaluated by your fellow community members.

Beneath the veneer of modernity and development we project, we are a deeply divided lot - Insular and class-conscious. We are ready to genuflect before the one who wields power to harm us or benefit us and not bat an eyelid to destroy or misbehave with someone less powerful or below us.

Some positions can be described in just three abbreviations which can make the person in front of you change his body language; take his hands above his ears bend his spine and give that smile that a small male monkey does when he meets a baboon bigger than him, and there are ranks which will make him see through you and dismiss your existence as some doormat.

Why are such achievements so aspirational?

Is it because of our background of being ruled by the erstwhile kings in a feudal set-up? Why do we want to give a substantial part of our life to catapult ourselves to a position that will make our fellow beings treat us as their rulers and we can treat them as our servants? It’s quite normal if they expect to be treated as royalty and you to behave subservient to them. Society neither resents it nor tries to change it. Why is it that despite being one of the largest democracies, we want a leader who doesn’t look like one of us but like someone sent from above? If he is one of us or from ranks below us, we will only respect him if he stands to cause harm to our interests and help us in achieving our aspirations.

Will this behaviour ever change? The answer lies in the question - will we change?