(The forthcoming book: From the Principal’s Desk – A Journey of Lessons)
Dr Arun Prakash
It was March, and the house was on high alert. The Class X board exams were here—a time when everything else in the world seemed to stop. Parents took time off work, cooking became a communal affair, and the family’s television remote vanished into the depths of some mysterious drawer. Even the family dog looked concerned, as if he too understood the gravity of the situation.
In the middle of this exam war zone was Aira, a bright, diligent, and slightly perfectionist young girl. Her family, however, was an anomaly. They didn’t buy into the whole “marks are everything” mantra. While other parents hovered over their children like generals in a war room, Aira’s parents encouraged her to enjoy the process of learning. They believed in depth over rote memorization, in joy over pressure. How idyllic, right?
But here’s the twist—Aira was crumbling inside. Despite her family’s relaxed approach, she was drowning in her own expectations. She wanted to be the best, but with each passing day, an invisible weight settled more heavily on her chest. The gaps between exams, which most students cherished as study time, became long stretches of panic for Aira. Books lay open on her desk, but the words blurred into incomprehensible scribbles. Fear whispered incessantly in her ear: What if I fail? What if I disappoint everyone? What if I’m not perfect?
Her mother, always attuned to her moods, grew increasingly worried—not about her marks, but about the shadows under her eyes and the quiver in her voice when she asked, “Will everything be okay, Mama?” The exam season crawled along, marked by sleepless nights and anxious days. And then, finally, the results came in.
Aira had scored a jaw-dropping 98 percent, with a perfect 100 in one subject. Her family was ecstatic, her teachers were over the moon, and relatives suddenly remembered they had a niece. She should’ve been jubilant, right? Wrong. Even as congratulations poured in, Aira’s mind was already racing to the next hurdle. What if I can’t maintain this? What if the next time, I’m not good enough? Her anxiety had no off switch.
Enter Class XI: New Year, Same Worries
As she moved into Class XI, Aira’s worries followed her like an uninvited guest. She was the model student—polite, hardworking, and adored by her teachers. Once, when a teacher walked into the class and didn’t spot Aira, she double-checked the room number, convinced she’d entered the wrong class. That’s how much Aira stood out.
But her anxiety was a constant companion. She expected perfection from herself and, in turn, from everyone around her. Small slip-ups by others, which most would shrug off, left her feeling hurt and upset. Her sadness lingered in the corners of her otherwise bright life, a shadow she couldn’t escape.
Then came COVID-19, and the world turned upside down. Schools shut down, and life retreated behind computer screens. For Aira, this should have been a chance to breathe—a break from the whirlwind of school life. But the isolation magnified her struggles. The questions in her head grew louder: What will happen to my future? Am I doing enough? What if I fail at everything? Her sadness deepened, her self-doubt grew, and her once-strong confidence crumbled.
Even when she prepared for competitions she had aced in the past, fear took over. What if this time I don’t win? she’d think, often giving up before even trying. Her parents did everything they could—hiring the best online teachers from across the country, showering her with love and support, and never pressuring her about grades or achievements. But Aira’s struggles weren’t about external pressures; they came from within.
The Curious Case of Deepika Padukone
Aira’s story might seem unique, but it isn’t. Even the most successful, seemingly perfect people can struggle in similar ways. Take Deepika Padukone, for instance—a name synonymous with elegance, success, and poise. She’s one of the highest-paid actors in India, a national-level badminton player turned superstar, and someone who has the world at her feet. And yet, in 2013, at the height of her success, she found herself battling an invisible, unrelenting enemy: depression.
By all accounts, Deepika’s life was a dream. She was riding high on back-to-back hits, had a loving, supportive boyfriend, and came from a family where success was practically a tradition (her father, Prakash Padukone, is a badminton legend). But one morning, she woke up feeling an inexplicable emptiness. In her own words: “I woke up one morning just feeling empty. I had this pittish feeling in my stomach. I didn’t know where to go, I didn’t know what to do, and I had these bouts of feeling so low that I would just start crying at the drop of a hat.”
Imagine that—crying for no reason, feeling hopeless even when everything in your life is objectively perfect. Deepika described her experience as a constant struggle, a weight she couldn’t shake. And yet, she had no “reason” to be depressed. This, perhaps, is the most confusing and misunderstood aspect of mental health. Depression doesn’t always need a trigger. Sometimes, it’s not about what’s happening around you but what’s happening inside you.
In 2015, Deepika Padukone founded The Live Love Laugh Foundation (TLLLF) to raise awareness about mental health issues such as stress, anxiety, and depression in India. The foundation aims to reduce the stigma associated with mental illness and provide credible mental health resources. In an exclusive interview with NDTV’s Barkha Dutt, Deepika Padukone opened up about her personal battle with depression, describing feelings of emptiness and lack of direction during a peak in her career. You can watch the full interview here:
The Overlap
Both Aira and Deepika are examples of how mental health struggles don’t discriminate. It doesn’t matter if you’re a student facing board exams or a global icon with the world at your feet. Anxiety, depression, and self-doubt can seep into anyone’s life. The difference, perhaps, lies in how we understand and address these struggles.
Aira, though surrounded by love and support, felt trapped in her own expectations. Deepika, despite her outward success, faced a similar internal battle. Their stories remind us that mental health is not a matter of willpower or external success—it’s a delicate balance, one that can tilt for anyone, anywhere.
If you’re still reading this, you probably think, “Okay, maybe Aira and Deepika are exceptions.” But what if I told you that these stories aren’t rare? In fact, mental health struggles like depression and anxiety are more common than you think—alarmingly common.
Let’s talk numbers—not the kind that makes your eyes glaze over, but the kind that hits you in the gut and makes you think, How did we not notice this before?
Did you know that around 280 million people worldwide suffer from depression? That’s like taking the entire population of Brazil and putting them in a room to talk about their struggles. And here’s the kicker—most of them aren’t talking about it at all. The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that depression is now the leading cause of disability globally, yet more than 75% of people in low- and middle-income countries (hello, India!) don’t get the help they need. Not because there’s no solution, but because no one’s asking the right questions—or worse, they’re afraid of the answers.
Now, let’s zoom in on India, a country known for its resilience, vibrant culture, and, sadly, a devastating statistic. India leads the world in suicides. Let that sink in. According to the National Crime Records Bureau, over 1,00,000 people take their own lives in India every year. That’s roughly one suicide every five minutes. And before you think, “Oh, it must be because of extreme poverty or dire circumstances,” think again. Many of these lives are lost not because of external hardships but due to invisible battles like depression, anxiety, or hopelessness.
Teenagers, young adults, middle-aged parents—no age group is spared. The pressure to succeed, societal expectations, and the stigma around seeking help create a toxic cocktail. The numbers are even more alarming for students. The suicide rate among Indian students is among the highest in the world. In 2021, a whopping 13,000 students took their lives, many of them just like Aira, overwhelmed by exams, expectations, or self-doubt.
What’s even more chilling? Studies show that 36% of Indians are likely to experience depression at some point in their lives. That’s more than one in three people. So if you’re in a classroom, at a family gathering, or just walking down a busy street, chances are you’re passing by someone who’s silently struggling. Yet, mental health conversations remain hushed whispers, buried under layers of stigma and ignorance.
Compare this to the world average, which hovers around 3-5% of the population at any given time. India is several steps ahead—not in a good way. It’s as if the nation is sprinting toward an emotional burnout, with no pause button in sight.
But here’s the thing: depression isn’t picky. It doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor, young or old, successful or struggling. It’s more common than we think, more dangerous than we realize, and more neglected than it should be.
So why aren’t we treating it like the public health crisis it is? If a new flu strain affected 36% of the population, we’d see task forces, awareness campaigns, and national emergency declarations. But when it comes to mental health, we’re still stuck in the dark ages, pretending it’s something people can just “snap out of.”
It’s time to sound the alarm bells—not to scare, but to wake up. Depression, anxiety, and mental health struggles are not rare, and they’re certainly not something to be ashamed of. They’re as real as diabetes, as serious as heart disease, and as treatable as a broken bone—if we’re willing to talk about them, address them, and most importantly, listen.
Because every five minutes in India, someone loses a battle we didn’t even know they were fighting. Isn’t it time we did better?
Why does this happen? What causes depression, anxiety, and related conditions, even when everything in life seems to be going well? Let’s delve into the root causes and understand why the symphony of the brain sometimes falls out of tune.
Imagine your brain as a bustling, vibrant city—a place that never sleeps, always alive with activity and buzzing with energy. It’s a city where every building is a neuron, busy sending messages, and the roads connecting them are the neural pathways. These roads are constantly travelled by delivery trucks, carrying precious cargo—your neurotransmitters. These trucks make sure the city runs smoothly, delivering serotonin, dopamine, norepinephrine, and other vital chemicals to the right places at the right times.
But that’s not all. In the heart of this city is an orchestra, and it plays the music that sets the tone for everything. It’s not just any orchestra; it’s the symphony of your emotions, your mood, and your state of mind. Every neurotransmitter in the brain has its role to play in this concert, each one an essential musician contributing to the overall harmony. When the music is in sync, life feels balanced, hopeful, and joyful. But when something goes out of tune, the entire city feels the effect.
Take serotonin, for example, the violinist of the orchestra. It plays a soothing, steady melody that keeps everything calm and content. Imagine walking through a park on a sunny day, a gentle breeze in the air—that’s serotonin at its best. It’s the melody of peace, the assurance that everything will be okay. But sometimes, the violinist forgets the notes or doesn’t show up at all. The sunny park feels gray and lifeless, and even the smallest inconveniences feel like massive storms. This is what happens when serotonin levels drop, leaving you feeling irritable, sad, or disconnected from the world.
Then there’s dopamine, the electric guitarist of this orchestra, full of energy and excitement. It’s the rock star, the bringer of motivation, the one who plays the riffs that make you feel alive. When dopamine strums its chords, you’re ready to take on challenges, chase your goals, and revel in the joy of accomplishment. But what if the guitarist decides to take a break? The music loses its spark, and suddenly, even things that used to bring you immense joy—like a favourite hobby or a delicious meal—feel dull and meaningless. This is the absence of dopamine, a silence that can make the city lose its zest for life.
And don’t forget norepinephrine, the drummer, keeping the rhythm steady. It’s the beat that keeps you focused and energized, helping you power through tasks and stay alert. When the drummer is on point, the city runs efficiently, and everything feels sharp and clear. But when the beat slows down, the rhythm falters. You might find yourself struggling to concentrate, feeling sluggish, or moving through the day as if wading through thick fog. That’s the city without a steady drumbeat, a place where even simple tasks feel monumental.
Now imagine all this happening in a concert hall where the lighting crew works tirelessly to create the right atmosphere. These lights are your hormones—testosterone, progesterone, and cortisol—setting the mood. Testosterone is the spotlight, shining bright and boosting your confidence and energy. When the spotlight dims, self-assurance fades, and the stage feels less inviting. Progesterone, on the other hand, is the warm, golden glow in the background, creating an ambiance of relaxation and comfort. But if the glow flickers or dims—perhaps during hormonal shifts—it can lead to restlessness or anxiety, like being in a theatre where the lighting keeps changing unpredictably. Cortisol, the emergency strobe light, is there for high-pressure moments, flashing when the city is under stress. It’s helpful in small doses, alerting the orchestra to danger and helping you react. But when the strobe light refuses to turn off, it overwhelms the entire concert, leaving the musicians disoriented and drowning out the music entirely.
What happens when the orchestra falters? Maybe the violinist is too quiet, the guitarist forgets their part, or the drummer loses the beat. Or perhaps the roads in the city are jammed, preventing the delivery trucks from getting their cargo to where it’s needed. Without serotonin, dopamine, or norepinephrine reaching their destinations, the music of the city grows disjointed, and the entire system feels out of balance. The city begins to reflect the chaos—a mind that feels restless, an energy that feels drained, and emotions that feel out of control.
So, how do you fix this? Sometimes, the orchestra just needs a skilled conductor to bring the musicians back in sync. This is where therapy comes in, teaching the brain how to organize its musicians and restore harmony. Other times, the delivery trucks need a boost—extra fuel to reach their destinations. This is what medication can do, helping to increase the availability of serotonin, dopamine, or norepinephrine so the music can play smoothly again. And then there’s the city’s infrastructure—exercise, proper sleep, good nutrition, and mindfulness practices. These are like rebuilding the roads and bridges, making sure the trucks can travel quickly and efficiently, ensuring the musicians can perform at their best.
Every brain city is unique, with its own orchestra, lighting, and quirks. Some need brighter spotlights of testosterone to boost their confidence, while others thrive on steady drumbeats of norepinephrine to stay focused. The beauty lies in understanding your city’s needs and taking care of it. Because when the orchestra is in harmony, the city feels alive, balanced, and ready to thrive. And when the music falters? It’s simply a sign that the city needs a little maintenance—a tune-up for the most magnificent symphony you’ll ever experience.
Not everyone who experiences depression, anxiety, or related struggles needs medication. Often, the first and most effective step is simply talking to someone—a trained counselor who understands how the mind works and knows how to help. Think of counseling as having a skilled guide to help navigate the maze of thoughts and emotions that can feel overwhelming.
Counselors are like emotional detectives. They listen carefully, piecing together clues to understand what’s causing the distress. Maybe it’s a pattern of self-doubt, like Aira’s fear of not being perfect. Or perhaps it’s a subtle buildup of stress that’s gone unnoticed, much like a small leak in a pipe that eventually floods the basement. Whatever the cause, counsellors help you pinpoint the issue and find ways to address it.
The beauty of counselling lies in its simplicity. Often, just having someone to talk to—a neutral, non-judgmental listener—can be incredibly healing. It’s a safe space to express feelings that might otherwise stay bottled up. Sometimes, the act of saying your worries out loud makes them feel less daunting, like shining a flashlight in a dark room and realizing the shadows aren’t as scary as they seemed.
Through counselling, people learn practical strategies to manage their emotions and thoughts. It’s like being handed a toolbox filled with techniques to handle anxiety, challenge negative thinking, or build resilience. These tools don’t just help in the moment; they’re skills that can be used throughout life.
What’s also important is that counsellors know when more help is needed. If they notice that a person’s struggles stem from a deeper biological imbalance—like when the brain’s “orchestra” is severely out of tune—they may recommend consulting a psychiatrist or medical professional. This isn’t a failure of counselling; it’s about recognizing when the brain might need a little extra support, like a musician needing help tuning their instrument.
But for many, counselling alone is enough to bring clarity and relief. It’s a chance to untangle the mental knots, find direction, and restore a sense of balance. The best part? There’s no shame in seeking counselling. It’s no different than going to a doctor for a physical ailment or a mechanic to fix your car. It’s just care—for the mind, the emotions, and the self.
So, if the music in your brain city feels off, remember: you don’t have to face it alone. A counsellor can help you find the rhythm again, guiding you toward harmony without judgment, pressure, or stigma. Sometimes, a conversation is all it takes to start the journey back to balance.\
Both Aira and Deepika were fortunate to have the support of people who truly cared for them and understood the seriousness of their struggles. Aira’s parents, noticing her ongoing anxiety and self-doubt, recognized that her challenges were not just phases or attention-seeking behaviours but signs of a deeper struggle. They acted not with judgment or frustration but with compassion. They sought help from a counsellor who patiently worked with Aira, helping her navigate her fears and doubts. When it became clear that her anxiety was deeply rooted and persistent, the counsellor recommended consulting a psychiatrist. Aira began a carefully designed treatment plan that included medication and continued therapy. Over time, her world brightened, and she began to rediscover joy—not just in her achievements but in her day-to-day life.
Deepika, too, had people in her corner who recognized her distress and stood by her. When she opened up about her feelings of emptiness and lack of direction, her family encouraged her to seek help. With their unwavering support, she consulted experts who guided her through her journey. Therapy and, where necessary, medication helped her regain balance and confidence. Today, she continues to inspire millions, not just through her success as an actress but through her advocacy for mental health. Her openness has helped countless others understand that it’s okay to seek help.
What’s important to note is that Aira and Deepika didn’t get here alone. They had loved ones who didn’t dismiss their struggles or label them as overreactions. Instead, their families understood that these were battles of helplessness, not just temporary bouts of sadness. Their families’ willingness to intervene, to consult counsellors and doctors, made all the difference.
And here’s the encouraging part: recovery is not just a possibility; it’s highly probable with the right help. Studies show that 70-80% of people with depression respond well to treatment, whether it’s through therapy, medication, or both. Counseling alone can be transformative, especially for mild to moderate cases. For more severe symptoms, medication can provide the boost needed to restore balance and allow therapy to work more effectively. With timely intervention, most individuals can overcome these challenges and regain control over their lives.
The key lies in recognizing the need for help early and taking action—not just for yourself, but for those you care about. Mental health issues can often be misunderstood or dismissed as phases, attention-seeking, or something people can “snap out of.” But Aira’s and Deepika’s stories remind us that these struggles are real and often require compassionate intervention.
This is where we all have a role to play—parents, teachers, friends, and society as a whole. We must listen without judgment, offer support without stigma, and act with understanding when someone shows signs of distress. Let’s break the silence and normalize seeking help, whether through counseling, medication, or both.
Together, we can create a world where every Aira and every Deepika has the support they need to heal and thrive. Let’s ensure that mental health struggles are met with empathy, not dismissal; with solutions, not stigma. Because with the right care, most cases can be managed, and the brain’s symphony can play in harmony again.
Next: Teach children to handle failure and build resilience.
