Reflections on two deaths, one conversation in the Delhi Metro, and a profound lesson from people who have lived on the margins.
Yesterday's Indian Express carried two heartbreaking news reports. One described the death of a young IIT Bombay student who was found hanging in his hostel room. Another reported the death of an Assistant Professor at IIT Kharagpur, with police investigating it as a possible suicide.
What happens when people stop feeling seen?
A Conversation that Stayed with Me
Earlier this week, while travelling in the Delhi NCR Metro, I met an MBA graduate working in the technology sector. Our conversation began with a viral social media post about an MBA graduate who had become a beggar but still spoke fluent English.
Instead of judging the man, my fellow traveller spoke about something else entirely.
He repeatedly used one word: "bubble."
Growing up in Delhi NCR, he described a fast, competitive and often loud culture where aggression and urgency become normal. When he moved to another state for higher education, his "bubble" burst. People were calmer. Conversations were slower. Relationships felt different.
Every transition into a new social circle burst another bubble.
Rather than seeing this as discomfort, he called it growth.
Then he made an observation that has remained with me.
"The beggar on the street is visible. But there are also people living inside four walls who survive on borrowed money, without purpose, disconnected from society. We rarely call them beggars."
His words made me wonder:
Is loneliness the invisible thread connecting both lives—those living on the street and those living behind closed doors?
The University of Pain
The following day, I was facilitating a training programme at the National Institute of Social Defence (NISD), New Delhi, attended by Social Work Educators from twelve states across India.
Alongside them sat people living with addiction and people who had experienced homelessness, begging, recovery and rebuilding their lives.
Some had graduated from universities.
Others had dropped out of formal education years ago.
Yet all carried knowledge that no textbook teaches.
I introduced them as educators from the University of Pain.
Some had degrees from universities.
Others had degrees earned through lived experience.
Both forms of knowledge deserve equal respect.
"Hi, Shyam." Or Simply, "Ram Ram, Shyam."
One participant, whom I will call Shyam (name changed), had spent years living on the streets.
Another participant recognised me and said, "You still remember my name?"
He felt guilty because he had forgotten mine.
I noticed the pressure on his face. He seemed uncomfortable, almost apologetic, as though forgetting the name of a teacher reflected badly on him.
I smiled.
Remembering or recalling a name is not the most important thing.
What mattered was that the moment we met, he connected with me with a smile.
That smile spoke far more than memory ever could.
Later, as participants greeted him—
"Hi, Shyam."
"Ram Ram, Shyam."
"Good morning, Shyam."
—he slowly began to relax.
The words themselves were different, but the message was the same.
It was not the greeting that mattered.
It was the relationship (sambandh) created through genuine human acknowledgement.
During the sharing circle, Shyam spoke about his years on the streets and broke down in tears while revisiting his journey.
What touched him most was not sympathy.
It was that professors, practitioners and fellow participants addressed him by his name and welcomed him as an equal participant in the gathering.
He later shared that, for the first time in a long while, he felt alive, present and accepted.
That moment reminded me of something important.
We often identify people by what they live with rather than who they are.
A professor.
A student.
A person living with addiction.
A person living with depression.
A person living with homelessness.
A person living with illness.
These are experiences.
They are not identities.
The real question is not what a person is living with, but whether we can connect with the human being before us.
Whether someone is living with the teaching profession, addiction, poverty, grief, disability or emotional pain, connection should begin with the person—not the profession, diagnosis or condition.
This is the opposite of emotional distancing.
When we meet the person before the label, we restore dignity.
Perhaps true remembrance is not about recalling someone's name.
It is about remembering their humanity.
Emotional CPR
.jpeg)
Immediately, one professor recalled how one of her own teachers addressed every student by their first name.
She smiled and said,
"That itself was Emotional CPR."
Another participant remarked that once we know people well, perhaps we need not repeatedly acknowledge them.
I responded with an analogy.
When someone collapses, we never count how many chest compressions we have already given.
We continue CPR until life returns.
Why should emotional support be any different?
Many people around us are emotionally unconscious long before anyone notices.
They still attend classes.
They go to work.
They publish papers.
They submit assignments.
They smile for photographs.
Yet inside, they are quietly withdrawing from life.
Emotional CPR does not begin with motivational speeches.
It begins with noticing.
Listening.
Making eye contact.
Calling someone by name.
Offering full attention.
Being genuinely present.
Sometimes the smallest human interaction prevents the deepest emotional isolation.
When We Misread Distress
In an electrical circuit, a fuse or miniature circuit breaker (MCB) disconnects power when the load becomes unsafe. It protects the entire house from fire and damage.
Human beings also have emotional warning systems.
Nervousness.
Sadness.
Fatigue.
Withdrawal.
Irritability.
Changes in breathing.
Loss of interest.
These are not signs of weakness.
They are protective signals telling us that something needs attention.
Unfortunately, our response is often to suppress these signals.
We say,
"Be strong."
"Don't think too much."
"Move on."
"Ignore it."
It is like replacing the safety fuse with a thicker wire so it never trips.
The overload continues until the whole system fails.
In human life, that failure may appear as suicide, self-harm, addiction, violence, emotional withdrawal or the slow disappearance of hope.
Emotional CPR asks us to notice these early signals instead of silencing them.
From Begging to Belonging
Our legal response to begging has historically been shaped by ideas of crime, nuisance and public order.
Fortunately, an important shift is taking place.
Across India, there is growing recognition that begging is often linked to poverty, homelessness, mental illness, disability, addiction, family breakdown and social exclusion.
The response therefore cannot remain criminalisation.
It must move towards rehabilitation, inclusion and wellbeing.
This is a shift from Welfare to Wellbeing.
The same principle extends beyond people living on the streets.
Many people living inside comfortable homes are emotionally homeless.
Many successful professionals carry invisible loneliness.
Many students silently lose hope while surrounded by achievement.
The difference is only visibility.
Beyond Survival
The two IIT deaths reported yesterday, the conversation in the Delhi Metro, the story of the MBA graduate living on the street, and Shyam's tears in a room full of educators all point towards the same truth.
Human beings need more than education, employment and economic security.
They need acknowledgement.
They need relationships.
They need belonging.
Perhaps prevention begins much earlier than counselling.
Perhaps it begins with the courage to slow down and say—
"Hi, Shyam."
"Ram Ram, Shyam."
"Good morning, Shyam."
Not as a routine greeting, but as a genuine act of connection.
Every authentic acknowledgement is Emotional CPR.
Every moment of human connection reminds another person:
I see you.
You matter.
You belong.
And perhaps that is where wellbeing truly begins.
Editor's Note
This blog has been prepared by the Vidya Lead Academy team based on reflections narrated by Suneel Vatsyayan, CEO, Vidya Lead Academy, during a training programme for Social Work Educators conducted at the National Institute of Social Defence (NISD), New Delhi. The reflections draw upon conversations, lived experiences, and learning shared by participants, and are presented to stimulate dialogue on moving from welfare to wellbeing through human connection, Emotional CPR, and recognition of lived experience.
Pics by Anup,Nada India Peer educator
Comments
Post a Comment