To pity yourself, is a sin!P. V Snehal

I was a depressed teenager. My parents had shifted me to a boarding school. I was homesick, so much that my percentage dropped by 17-20 percent. I never made friends, the loneliness felt comfortable. The assignments, journals, homework was all ignored. I lost the sincerity which was once appreciated. From 'the student of the year' to 'the unknown kid' in the class. I thought I had valid reasons, little did I know they weren't. 

After a melodramatic argument with my parents, I decided to quit the hostel. I thought that was it, but, I guess my principal somehow hadn't given up on me yet. She forced me to shift to my science teacher's house as a paying guest. My science teacher, Ms. Swati Ghotane, was a 40-year-old single woman. She suffered from arthritis. Her limbs were all bent. Walking was painful, holding chalk - writing on the board seemed impossible for all her fingers were kind of displaced. When she first entered my classroom I sympathized but once I knew I was her 'to be' paying guest the sympathy was gone.

After the summer vacation, the 20th of June, I shifted to her house. She lived with her parents, her 70-year-old mother and 83-year-old father, a proud retired Navy officer who had served INS Vikrant. All of her five sisters were married, her only brother resided at Pune for his job. In the beginning, I never left my room. It was Grandpa Ghotne, who kept inviting me to chat with him. I used to join him to escape studies but then, I fell in love with his stories. The war, INS Vikrant, his foreign trips fascinated me. I thought Swati teacher won't allow me to escape studies but to my surprise, she had stories too! I realized that this 40-year-old woman reflected the once happy and free me. I never felt better. 

Days past and we grew closer. Board exams were closer but Swati teacher and I would spend all our nights joking around. We discussed spirituality, parents, family, love, life, struggles and she was the first person with whom I shared all of my pain. Depression still accompanied me. I was expecting a philosophical lecture from her but she just listened. The next day in the school was quite disturbing, in the recess I was informed that Swati teacher was unwell and she left for her home. Once the school was dispersed, I rushed home. Grandma took me to the room Swati teacher was resting in. She was waiting for me, it was our routine to have tea together after the school.

The same night, when she recovered, she sat with me for my studies. I lost my patience, I didn't hold me back and finally asked her what I always had intended to,

"Isn't the pain enough? Why do keep adding to it? Why do you have to come to school? Your parents want you to sit home, you don't even need money"

She had this toxic smile on her face, "Sitting home and pitying myself? That would do me no good.

Of course, I love sympathy. Everyone does because you know people think about you, they care about you. But, remember one thing my child, life will give you a thousand reasons to pity yourself, if you fall for it, you'll be the only one who cares about you. If you ignore all those reasons, do your job, and pity the others in pain, you'll have thousands, if not hundreds to care for you. To pity yourself is a sin because that subtracts one human from the mankind from serving his purpose, giving him a reason to quit."

I used to feel like a damsel in distress but the moment I heard this, the damsel wanted to be empowered and now she knew the way to it. 

The day we said gave each other the ugly goodbyes, she told me, 'No matter what, You won't let the pain conquer you. Your job is to do your job. Let's leave pitying to the others." she winked.