Bordering on Friendship.

(Diplomatist plus June 2012) 

Bordering on Friendship

Fifteen members of our family travelled together to Amritsar recently. Among several enjoyable highlights of the trip, including visiting the magnificent Golden Temple, was witnessing the change of guard ceremony. This happens every evening at the Wagah border between Pakistan and India.

For those who have not yet seen the ceremony at the Wagah border, it is quite a big local event! 

Fundamentally, it is a change in shift duty of the guards accompanied by the usual army practice of lowering the national flag at sundown; but it has a lot of tradition, pomp and grandeur built around it. Thick gates separate the Pakistani army barrack from the Indian barrack with a metre of no man’s land in between. A large photograph of Mahatma Gandhi adorns one wall on the Indian side and on the Pakistani side a photo of Mr Jinnah is displayed. Facing the barracks on both sides are wide stone steps where people can sit and watch the ceremony.

People come from near and far to watch the ceremony which takes place daily. The audience starts taking up vantage positions on the stone steps in the early afternoon itself. Patriotic songs blare from microphones two or three hours before the event and really build up the mood. Many from the audience climb down onto the road below and start to dance enthusiastically. At 5 o’clock this party is interrupted by the master of ceremonies. The dance floor goes back to being a road and the revellers remember what they came for in the first place. A relative silence descends as all wait for the more serious business of the ceremony to start.

A powerful command from the guard commander suddenly pierces the silence and heralds the beginning of the event. The commanders on both sides compete to keep their voices as loud as possible and the words stretched out as long as their breath allows, giving us a slight feel of the Opera. Suddenly, the lead pair of soldiers start marching smartly to the gate. On that particular evening, it was heartening to see two young women in uniform take the lead. Thereafter, more soldiers march individually or in small groups to the gate. It is a matter of prestige for the soldiers to be well turned out and to march with such agility that their legs touch their foreheads on the upswing. When they come close to the gate (and consequently face to face with their rivals), they swagger, click their heels smartly, thrust out their chests and adjust their headgear with mock-aggressiveness. All these gestures are meant to convey confidence and intimidate their counterparts on the other side. Throughout the hour-long show, the master of ceremonies, mike in hand, guides the audience on when to clap or shout and when to be (relatively) quiet. At one point, the gates are opened, the soldiers shake hands and the flags of the two sides are lowered in perfect unison. After that all too brief interlude of togetherness, the gates are shut again.

Those thinking that a guard changing ceremony might be a solemn occasion, will find themselves mistaken. It is more along the lines of a boisterous and friendly cricket match. There is a sense of drama and various emotions course through the mind. Though each side fervently encourages their own soldiers with loud shouts and clapping, there is a healthy curiosity for what is happening on the other side of the gate. Everyone keeps looking over to the other side to see how they are faring in the friendly competition of smartness and bravado. There is a desire to wave out to the audience on other side (people often do that) and establish a rapport.

Surely, there is a sense of pride in one’s particular country. But for those who originally belonged to undivided India there is also a deep sense of longing and nostalgia. Their past seems so tantalisingly close and yet so far away. As my mother in law wistfully said “Do you know Lahore is only 31 miles away from where we are sitting now?” Many people of that generation earned their professional degrees in Lahore. Several think about where they were born, where they lived and worked and are engulfed by a curiosity to see what changes time has brought to their old haunts.

What is impressive is the perfect harmony and unison of the so-called rivals when performing the ceremony. Each side keeps a watch on the other and they synchronise their movements perfectly making it look beautiful. Even the flags are lowered simultaneously with hardly an inch of difference between their heights. One can’t help but reflect on how well we work together as a team.

As individuals, many of us have faced the sorrow of a good sound friendship suddenly turning sour. A single incident can spark the unravelling of a relationship and sometimes things come undone at such breakneck speed that all concerned are left a little breathless. We may feel shattered. We may feel a deep sense of loss. There may be anger, bitterness and sorrow but underlying these is a secret longing to go back to the way things were before all hell broke loose.

 
If we extrapolate this to an entire community, one can try and imagine somewhat the collective sense of loss felt after the bloodshed and displacement of the days of partition. No doubt, the minds of many revert back to and relive the months and days of horror when it all came apart. When friendships established over a lifetime were destroyed in one fell swoop.

 
There must be profound regrets on both sides about the process by which a hardworking and close-knit community fell apart into fragments.

I can recall Jagjit Singh’s mellifluous voice reminding us of that moment in which love comes alive “woh pal ki jis mein mohabbat jawan hoti hai”. I wonder how many people across the border feel nostalgic and await that moment when, by some miracle things can come together once more. Can we be friends all over again? It would be so heartening if in our lifetime, the gates are opened and Indians and Pakistanis alike dance to a common tune…for example Ghulam Ali singing “Bichad ke bhi mujhe tujhse….”

Eulogy for a grandmother

Our most adored Nani passed away on 7th April two years ago.She left behind a huge treasure trove of wonderful memories which is the richest legacy possible. We were blessed and lucky to have her as our Nani. On the anniversary of her death, I am sharing with you the eulogy I read at her funeral.

We recently visited the Wagah border for the changing of the guard ceremony, and had my trend-setting nani been alive she would have smiled with joy two see two smart young lady soldiers lead the change of guard !

April 7 2010.....

We are gathered here in memory of  Mrs Sushila Tandan, a wonderful lady who left our midst on 7^th April. She died at the age of  87, peacefully, suddenly and in the presence of her loved ones .

Born in 1922 in Aligarh she was a witness to almost an entire century, and adapted remarkably well to the changing times.

Over the years, the lens through which we, her grandchildren, have viewed our greatly loved  nani has changed and matured. As we became older we became increasingly aware of just how privileged we were to have her as our nani.

As small children, we thought our nani was the most glamorous lady and probably the best cook in the whole world. I can still visualise nani in one of her beautiful chiffon saris, moving briskly about the house smelling of a lovely perfume. She would cook these fabulous meals for us, mainly mughlai food, Biryani and Kebabs, and my brother Rahul and I would compete to see who could demolish more of Nani’s cooking. We spent many idyllic summer holidays with Nani/nana where we woke up in the morning to the smell of lovely jasmine flowers which my nana had gathered during his morning walk and lovingly placed on our pillows as we slept. Nani was an expert driver and would drive us to our favourite places in her green Herald (after we could get it to start!). Nani and Nana were very warm and hospitable and there was a constant stream of friends in their house. I remember the pride with which they used to highlight our little accomplishments to their friends. They had instituted a prize for any acheivement, big or small, and my brother and I had built up a little treasure trove of pens and diaries which our doting Nani/nana had given us for our scholarly successes.

 As we grew older, we began to see her as a social being rather than just our nani. From the stories told to us by family and their friends , I gathered that Nani/nana were very progressive and compassionate people. Nani was the first batch of girls in Aligarh to gain an MA in English and Geography during a time when girls were not educated beyond class 8, if at all they were. She told me she had to be very responsible in her behaviour all the time as the slightest slip up could have had a great negative social impact with people commenting “See this is what happens when you educate girls” !  Later, as the wife of a civil servant, she did a tremendous amount of social work specially for the up liftment of rural women. Her welfare model carried out in Lakhimpur Khiri when nana was the district magistrate was greatly appreciated and was replicated in other parts of UP. She was highly active physically and  right till the age of 75, when she suffered a stroke, she was even traveling in trains by herself.

Our multi-faceted Nani was also greatly recognized in her community as a teacher. Generations of girls at Loretto convent lucknow were taught by Mrs Sushila Tandan and by all accounts she was a very popular teacher. She later also taught English at Delhi college of engineering Kashmere gate and her teachers accomodation there was always full of young students and collegues. I spent a lot of time with her and she used to take me to several ghazal concerts with her. She also took me for my very first -movie - ‘Julie “. The experiment was not very successful as every time Julie shed tears on the screen, I would start weeping loudly in the audience. Thereafter we confined ourselves to other activities.

Nani was highly relied upon by all members of the family as she had an outstanding sense of responsibility. When my father was posted in faraway places in his army tenure, it was nani who would drive up to Nainital and bring me home for the summer holidays. All the nuns knew her well. Similarly, when my parents were abroad she helped settle my brother into college. She was an ideal companion to any age group  and was able to stand on pavements and eat roadside food with my brother as effortlessly as any college friend of his. She also came to visit me in AFMC Pune and played the role of a batch grandmother, telling stories late into the night to my friends.

Nani was amazingly well read and well traveled. She had backpacked alone in Europe in her young days and used to tell us wonderful stories of  her travels.

Later, when we got married nani extended her special relationship to our spouses and children. Kapil used to really enjoy discussing various books and current affairs and used to remark on how well read and insightful she was. Yogita used to marvel at how nani, always the ever gracious hostess remembered her favourite food items and made her feel even more special than she would  her own grandchildren. Our kids loved their parnani. Like so many years ago with us, she  now delighted in the acheivements of our children and  very recently she bought a beautiful book on flowers for my daughter who had run very fast on her sports day.

Finally I need to mention how remarkable and courageous my nani was. About twelve years ago, she  was uprooted from her home, lost her husband and sufferd a near fatal accident all in the space of one or two years. All this was not enough to daunt this brave lady. She later suffered a stroke  which left the right half of her body paralysed but this too did not diminish her joie de vivre and she led a full life even in her severely handicapped condition. A great deal of credit for that goes to my mother, family and close friends who were a constant and remarkable support to her when her body was weakened. But her spirit retained an infectious joyousness and she was always very hospitable even from her bed, offering all of us our choicest foods when we went to have a cup of tea with her, engaging in deep discussions on our families and professions, participating in all family and colony functions from her wheelchair.

This remarkable and lovely lady remains a true inspiration and although we had her with us for a long while it never seems enough. A couplet from one of her favourite singer, Mehdi Hassans songs expresses very eloquently the sentiment we feel…. “ Tu jo mila hai , yeh ehsaas hua hai mujhko, yeh meri umr mohabbat ke liye thodi hai ….”

I would like to thank you all very much indeed for being here with us today.

Message for woman’s day

Dear friends ,

Mrs Kodian asked me to write down a few words for women's day for her group.The steady work she and her association have been doing in the last couple of years to make Dwarka a safer and cleaner place is truly inspiring for all of us. It makes one realise that there is a lot one can acheive if we put our mind to it. Here is the message which I shared with the group :

Wouldn't it be most rewarding for all of us women if we could discover our full and true potential some day ? But how are we to make it happen ? Reflecting on this brought out these thoughts which I put before you.

“It is never too late to be what you might have been” – is an inspiring quote attributed to George Eliot .

Well , I thought, what if someone had a sports trophy in mind ? Agewise, it may be much past the time where one can truly excel  as an athlete . But then, it occurred to me that one could instead just play the game of life with excellent sportsman spirit. It gives as much satisfaction as momentarily holding up a shining cup does.

In his book “The last lecture”, Prof. Randy Pausch talks about his childhood dreams and explains in a delightful manner how he came to achieve some of them. I thought about my childhood . At a very  tender  age I dreamt of being able to play with water for unlimited periods without being scolded or stopped by any adult. Now, as a doctor, I see one childhood dream coming true every time I have to thoroughly scrub my hands with soap and water before a surgery!

Perhaps one of you always wanted to be a professor and are currently a busy, harried housewife.Try  to remember why you wanted to be a professor in the first place. Did you enjoy reading or love a particular subject ? Was it the thought of moulding young minds or just the academic atmosphere? Once you are able to answer this question correctly to yourself, the rest becomes easier. If you  already have a thorough knowledge of your subject, but don’t want a conventional job ,you could sign up with an NGO in the teaching field ( they are almost always looking for skilled volunteers.) If you want to brush up your experience before embarking on the task, many schools offer learning programmes where you can observe the teachers at work. If not looking for a formal training, you can request a friend who has a school/NGO to let you observe other teachers for a few days. Any combination is possible to ease you back into your chosen field.

Some people wanted to be at the best institutes  and interact with the “brightest minds” in a particular field.  They just didn’t get the chance . I would urge you not to fall into the trap of thinking that good theories are formed only in elite institutes. The most pathbreaking ideas have come from uncluttered minds of diverse backgrounds and inspiration can come from anywhere. A simple question asked by a simple mind may lead to the discovery of the most profound truths. Some women enjoy what they are doing but want to be paid much better for what they do. It would not be an exaggeration to say that 90% of men and women feel that they are underpaid for services rendered. Join the gang !

A friend always wanted to be a nightclub singer.  She was now past forty and had never managed to get behind a mike. Two fears she had prevented her from doing so. According to her , her voice was too raspy and her figure slightly plump . Only her love and knowledge of music matched the glamorous club singers she had grown up hearing and seeing. It was pointed out to her that most singers had predictably melliflous voices , hers being slightly husky, would be a refreshing change. Also, age had lent some gravitas to her comportment which most people would find attractive . As far as tyres around her middle went, there were two aspects. Firstly, it showed how well she represented nature. After all , even trees showed off  their age by adding rings around their trunks ! More to the point, one of her designer friends could easily make her suitable dresses which concealed the bulges. Most importantly, her target audience had also aged alongside her.Our friends were more refined in their tastes, a lot kinder and some, deafer. All this made for a great audience. I think what really clinched it for her was watching the video of Susan Boyle who was ‘discovered ‘ at the age of 47.

So friends, on the occasion of woman’s day, I ask you to just express yourself in any way that makes you happy. Don’t let age or fears or circumstances hold you back. Work with them or around them and achieve what you want to . Or at least live with the satisfaction that you tried !

Wish you all a wonderful woman’s day !!

My first ( disaster of a ) dinner party

Living alone in a small town, I was often invited for sumptuous meals  at people’s homes. Being poor at cooking, I used local catering services to return the hospitality. Life followed a smooth pattern until one day, a senior officer insisted that I cook a home meal for everyone. No amount of protests by me or my divulging what a hopeless cook I was would cause him to relent.” Ours is not to question why, ours is to do or die! ” I thought and took up his request. A date was chosen and invitations made.

Being the only other medical officer, apart from the commanding officer (CO), I could not get leave from my morning OPD duties for that date. Also,the CO did not at all seem to share my perspective that the situation fitted the ‘emergency leave’ category. I enlisted the help of two bais (lady helpers) for the cooking.  My Sahayak (male helper) was entrusted with  sprucing up the house and carrying over drinks from the canteen.

On the day of the party, I returned from work in the afternoon to the aroma of cooking and assumed the menu would be mostly prepared . I thought of the special finishing touches I would give. I was in for a rude shock : only two dishes were done; one bai had not turned up at all  and the other had to leave in a hurry as she was urgently needed at home. So there I was, with five hours left to go for a big party with poor culinary skills and no manpower ! Various plan ‘B’s raced through my mind. A cancellation would seem I was evading my social duties. I wondered if I could ask one of the invitees to come and help cook ( their own dinner) but then decided against it. Whereas this practise was acceptable on travel and living shows, in real life it would not go down well at all !

Desperate measures were needed. I explained my predicament to the Sahayak and told him that he had to venture far beyond his normal call of duty for that day. Some time later, I was preparing the gravy and seasoning and the Sahayak, whose only relationship with food so far had been eating it , was cutting vegetables. I tried not to let it perturb me that the vegetable pieces , being so slowly and painstakingly cut by him, were of completely different shapes and sizes or that tiny bits of peel were still sticking to them. I reminded myself that at this juncture our sole aim was just getting food (of any sort) on the table. Anything else was a luxury. I strategically put large quantities of gravy over the vegetables to hide their unevenness.

Later in the afternoon, a dear friend, my CO’s daughter, called to check how I was doing. In the course of describing the reasonably grim situation, I discovered that I had not factored in dessert !  My wise friend had a brainwave which mitigated my feeling of despair. All we needed was a  quick ride into town to pick up fruit and fresh cream -a timeless classic. She soon brought her moped to my house and I instructed  my Sahayak to keep a benign overwatch on the last dish, mutton curry, for the short while I would be away. The reluctant chef was petrified at the thought of being left alone in a kitchen with a simmering dish but I told him the situation just could not accommodate a breakdown on his part. I pointed out to him his robust innings with the vegetables. I told him the tough part was over, now only a delicate flick of his wrist was needed - to turn the burner knob from high to sim after the requisite whistles.  My counselling worked.Thankfully.

We quickly found the fruit and cream but on the way back, luck deserted us as my friend’s moped had a flat tyre. Providentially,a boy she knew lived nearby. I was greatly releived to learn this. She told me however, that she found his attentions unwelcome and  normally went to great lengths to avoid him. I pleaded with her to make the supreme sacrifice of being showered with unwanted attention for the sake of my dinner. Half an hour later, the boy, whose cup of joy had run over ,was dealing with the puncture at an unhurried pace (he wanted his lady-love near him for the longest), my friend was fuming  and I was fretting. The supreme irony was eating the tasty snacks served by his mother even as I worried about my own amateurish  menu.

When we reached back home around 7.00 pm, the first few guests had already arrived. The Sahayak (who was in the loop over telephone) had told them I would be back very shortly and they were wondering about this most unusual welcome. I tried to slip in quietly, but unfortunately, the guests managed to glimpse my dishevelled clothes and the large packages in my hand. I smiled weakly at everyone, murmuring excuses, and they smiled back encouragingly. I changed faster than Superwoman and went to the rescue of the dishes and the chef. My heart sank completely at what I surveyed-the Sahayak had clean forgotten the whistle count and the mutton was in shreds ! I thought the only way out was to give the dish an exotic name and pretend they made it like that in some less-visited country. My brain toyed with names such as ‘Rare fibril mutton venison’and ’gourmet stringy surprise’as I regarded the damaged dish.

During the course of the evening, I alternated between kitchen and drawing room while the guests chatted amiably. My friend helped me cut the fruit and blend in the cream. Finally,the time came for dinner to be put on the table. The women called their little children to eat first. One look at the dishes on the table and the adults quickly grasped the situation. The innocent children however, stared suspiciously at the slightly strange looking food and loudly asked what each dish was. Even after their mothers had somehow correctly identified the base vegetable, and told them the name,they were not easily convinced ! They kept voicing their doubts loudly, despite stern gazes from their parents and my ears kept turning a deeper shade of red. The adults, in contrast, were kindness personified, going about their business of eating very silently, hiding their disappointment  well. I noticed that all took very small portions of everything except the two dishes which the bai had cooked. Many asked for bread alongside, which thankfully, I had.

When the dessert came on, there was a palpable sigh of collective relief.  Everyone was still very hungry and there was nothing that could go wrong with fresh fruit and cream. All heaped their plates high. But they had not reckoned with my persistent streak of bad luck that day. The grapes were sour. The guests laboriously picked small fruit pieces off their plates trying to avoid the grapes, which was rather difficult given the creamy disguise each little fruit  piece wore. Unfortunately for all (by Murphy’s law of disasters - if he has one such) grapes just  happened to be the signature fruit of the dish.

At last the guests left. I imagined hearing hunger rumblings in their stomachs as they said their goodbyes. In silence, I  contemplated the day’s events and the used plates with uneaten grapes arranged along their perimeters. I consoled myself with the thought that the guests had certainly enjoyed each other’s company at least. Life went back to the usual pattern and for a long while no one tried to disturb the system by introducing novel concepts such as home –cooked meals at young officer’s residences!

Safeguarding our mental health

Dr Anjali Mehta

Defining what really constitutes good mental health is difficult although the meaning is instinctively understood  . It is a state of mind that enables an individual to function efficiently in society. Understanding the complexities of the mind needs a heightened degree of awareness. Mental illness that does not fit into a well-recognised syndrome often goes undiagnosed. Sometimes, the sufferer does not recognise his own affliction though it may be apparent to others.

In the past, mental illnesses were not well documented. People recognised “eccentricities’ in their friends and relatives but were fairly accepting of these and the “eccentric” party usually found at least some support within the ranks of the family. Actually a really thin line separates normal from what lies just beyond it. For example, a person who washes his hands three times daily is deemed hygeinic, but handwashing twenty times daily would possibly come in the realm of obsessive compulsive. The grey area is with handwashing 6-8 times a day. In such a case, must we start to worry that something may be brewing in the brain? Caregivers are often  in a dilemma about how much to let the natural personality develop and what and how much to curb in the child’s behaviour.Many of us are on one side or the other of the active child versus Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder debate. There are no easy answers.

Why are we more vulnerable than ever to mental problems ?

The faster pace of life nowadays gives us less time to heal naturally from traumatic events . With families becoming increasingly nuclear and people less tolerant, social isolation makes people more prone to mental illness. People spend an increasing amount of time on their computers but it can’t compare with the warmth of a direct human interaction . The life span of humans has increased and there is a larger population of elderly people. Also, diseases like cancer and AIDS  took the lives of their patients with great impunity earlier but now there are many survivors. However, chronic illnesses cause significant morbidity  and this leads to greater prevalence of sickness related depression. In today’s strife torn world, many children are growing up seeing war and bloodshed all around. This plays havoc with their mental health in the years to come. Also, soldiers who are increasingly being sent on peace keeping missions around the world are prone to post- traumatic stress disorders.

We are susceptible to mental stress at almost every stage of our lives. Right since birth. Psychiatrists have ascertained that  emotional coping mechanisms are formed in the first few years of life. In the school years, shy , affable children are the ones who are the most easly bullied and can be left with long lasting emotional scars. Often the bully himself is riddled with deep insecurities which makes him/her behave thus. Teenage has its quota of confusion, succumbing to peer pressure and experimenting with drugs and alcohol. As adults, the three big areas which may prove challenging are marriage, work and chronic illness. Old age brings loneliness and vulnerability .

Why is mental disease more difficult to diagnose and treat

A mild mental health problem is rather difficult to pick up . It is not very clear where “mood” or “personality” ends and where mental health disorders begin, even for a trained psychologist. A physical disease causes a lump, pain, discoloration or other visible and often quantifiable symptoms. How does one describe a heartache ? And how would a layperson know when natural sorrow has ended and given way to depression? These illnesses therefore simmer under the surface for a longer period than physical ones.

Making a diagnosis is not easy for a psychiatrist . The patient may not want to reveal everything in their history if they feel ashamed of something or they want to impress a psychologist they have developed a rapport with . From another perspective , for a psychologist to deal with confused, irrational ,slow patients usually requires good listening skills and the fortitude of a saint. Drawing out information on the status of the mind is clearly not an easy task.

Assuming the diagnosis is made; cures are not easy. Individual sessions with the doctor are lenghthy and the course of therapy spills into weeks and months, requiring large investments of time and not many patients or even doctors possess the staying power . Cures are not easily attainable : we all know that removing a lump surgically is far easier than changing the way a person thinks.The results are not clearly identfiable though improvement can be ascertained. Relapses occur often.

Mental health, including hospitalisation is not covered by insurance and the cost has to be borne by the patient in totality.

The drugs used in psychiatry often have side effects that may impair a person’s ability to function as they can lead to drowsiness or a dullness of affect.  A patient may have to take these for long periods.

How we can safeguard our mental health

At an individual level

Being proactive :  If we have troublesome physical symptoms such as headache or toothache, we are likely to promptly consult a doctor, but how many of us would consult a psychiatrist that routinely ? Acknowledging that all is not well your mind is fraught with unpleasant social implications . We should learn to pay more attention to our minds also. In fact, a mental health check up should form an integral part of the routine annual health check up offered by hospitals .

Being alert :  A high index of suspicion should be maintained for changes in behaviour or uncontrollable behaviour. For example , sudden onset of mood swings in a person may be attributed by the family to his/her alcohol consumption or lack of professional success whereas it may be a result of a hormonal disorder or a  brain tumour. Likewise, a person’s uncontrolled eating may be attributed to his lack of will-power whereas it may be a hypothalamic disorder.

Mental exercises/meditation:   A sound mind is our most prized possesion, to be guarded well. The buddhists are known to indulge in mental exercises to make their minds strong. Yoga and meditation are effective and healthy ways to lessen stress. We must build in a mental health routine into our daily life just as we build in physical exercise.

At a group level

Mind lifeguards : School consellors or work counsellors, being trained people can pick up subtle mental disease in the group they are in charge of and provide good advice and treatment. They also build in general stress releiving games and activities into the daily routine as a preventive health measure.

Promoting mental health and peace at a social level.

Spiritual groups and other initiatives.  Concious promoting of mental peace is being done by several organisations including  Art of living , Brahmakumaris, Buddhist monks and such like . In a novel development, the Indian army decided to train its army priests to be counsellors .The priests could recognise early signs of depression in those who they came across during daily prayers and also counsel the concerned soldier or officer.

The arts and culture : We know that even the simplest minds do not fail to appreciate the beauty of music and music therapy is much in vogue for several mental disorders. Movies can be used to create awareness amongst people about mental disease and induce more sensitivity in people. Many acclaimed movies on various mental disorders have made a big impact on audiences. A few such are: “A Beautiful Mind” , “ Taare Zameen Par” “ The Prince of Tides” and on a lighter note, the incredibly funny “Analyse This”

To summarise, as far as mental health is concerned,even if we understand it only intuitively we must guard it zealously !