Listening to the unspoken cries

Reshma Mathew was this outstanding student in my batch whom I met at poetry recitation competitions. This was way back in middle school in our colony. We went to different schools. But everyone knew her. She was this smart kid who floored the other participants with her confidence and usually walked away with the top honours. She was a force to reckon with. Her father was a well respected English teacher in the school she went to. Incidentally he had mentored my own brother in his high school years.
Few years back, when I moved to Mumbai, I regrouped with my school friends and one of them mentioned that Reshma was in Mumbai as well. Reshma was married, second time for her, and had a young child. We never corresponded though. Other than the fact that we grew up in the same colony, we had never spoken. She may have had faint memories of meeting at these competitions like I have of her.
In May we heard that her husband passed away due to Covid. But we knew she would pull through. She was so strong in our imagination that nothing could bog her down.
Monday night my friend called to give me the shocking news that Reshma and her son had committed suicide. I couldn’t believe it. It was so out of character. There were no details available. The how and why. A part of me was hoping that it was a false rumour. A diabolic imagination of some idiot. I kept thinking about the loneliness a person was going through to not be able to reach out to anyone about their feelings, or to not want to reach out.
Today’s newspapers confirmed the news. She and her son jumped off the balcony of the rented apartment they had moved in recently. Incidentally I lived in the same housing complex before moving back to our hometown, taking advantage of the lockdown. A few months here or there, and we could have met, may be our children could have become friends.
She had apparently shared a post on FB recently about the loss of her loving husband. It was heartrending. But she showed glimpses of a fight back. Of a strange reconciliation with fate and the will to keep the memories alive and to fight this out. Though she also spoke about meeting again in the afterlife.
The newspaper article mentioned that in her suicide note she wrote about altercations with their neighbour who apparently lodged an FIR against them because her son was noisy and it disturbed them. Unbelievable.
But the lingering thought is that if this could happen to her it could happen to anyone. A year of lockdown, death of a spouse, new to the city, to the neighborhood, probably a lack of close friends and confidants, hostile neighbours... depression and isolation. Sometimes a cumulative set of events can tip the balance even for the strongest of people.
A promising life was snuffed out before time. A professional par excellence, a doting mother and a charismatic woman who had so much more to contribute to the world. Sacrificed on the altars of the Covid pandemic and apathy.
The virus is effecting us in more ways than is obvious. There is a hidden pandemic running parallel. A pandemic of weakening mental well being. It has no overt symptoms. It grows insidiously waiting for faultlines to strike the heart and mind.
Just goes to prove, during these dark times, we need to be there for one another. Just pick the phone and talk. Look out for each other. Check on your family and friends especially those who have suffered losses in this pandemic - loss of loved ones, health, jobs...
Keep your eyes and ears open but above all your hearts, to hear the unspoken call for help.