How mental health works fascinates us. Yet our culture and society have always addressed mental health issues with some degree of unacceptance. That is—perhaps—why movies often portray people with mental health issues as humorous characters often at the receiving end of practical jokes. I had also been part of such audiences that encouraged making fun of mental health issues, until I had to live with a family member who suffered from a chronic mental health issue.

Post-script: Majority of the people in this institution are children who are seventeen and below; others are middle aged. Yet, age is just a number here. The usual structure of an ‘older person taking care of a young child’ doesn’t fit here, as adults here are often ‘children’ and the other way around. I have seen more compassion in these children than in children outside this institution’s walls. As a photographer I needed to be careful not to be intimidating for them to open up. I was a different person with different people; some of them needed a patient listener, some needed forgiveness and some just needed time and space. All of them needed love. As challenging as it was, I loved being around them. This experience made me more generous at heart. It took away my shame of being from a family living with mental illness. This gave me strength; this gave me freedom.

Aphthongs is a visual representation of my thoughts and feelings as I spent a month with the residents of BM Institute of Mental Health, Ahmedabad. I spoke to the caregivers, parents-of-patients and health workers of that institute and visited the patients for several weeks until I grew comfortable with the place and the people. I became quite attached to the people there, probably because I could by then relate a lot of things to what was happening back home.

Walls, ceilings, furniture; everything looked aged. Built in 1951, years of welcoming residents with unstable mental health had taken a toll on its structure and its environments. While awash in fading colours, I experienced the place in blacks and whites. Different people, different conditions all shared a similar sense of entropy within them and tended to forget about it all often. Always moving. Or being still as pebbles. Either reticent or loud as the sea. Always vigilant, with no care for the world. Yet, a day with them prepares you a whole lot more for this world. Love and compassion were things they learned unaccompanied and gave in selfless abundance. Each day a challenge for them as it was for me; to be with them, not to be agitating them. I connected with a few of them. They told me of their love for movies, of children, crafts, of wanderings and one even had his address tattooed on his arm, lest he got lost.

One could notice that there was a common thread in everyone’s conduct at the institute; helping each other, being considerate, respecting each other’s boundaries and space. They all had their little pockets of tranquillity in the general chaos. Most of them were to live with their conditions for the rest of their lives were always smiling. Accepting and welcoming. Even in this place of hapless disarrangement one could see traces of hope, resonating.

People with mental health conditions have contributed much to our culture—poetry, music, paintings, studies-in-diverse-fields and much more—like other, ‘normal’ people. Yet, generations have failed to be grateful for that and to extend them the empathy they deserve. We often fail to try and understand them, refuse to believe they need serious attention and instead judge them. It is a painstaking everyday journey to live with a mentally disturbed person and I wish the society was kind and considerate enough to make their lives hurt less than they already do. It requires a sort of deep-seated and unwavering patience to see through all their immediate difficulties to get to the core of their treatment. Examining stereotypes about mental health and being empathetic can be a start and I hope that isn’t something far away.