My eternal love
Dear Mai,
Before the day of Guru Purnima comes to an end, I wanted to write you a letter. Strangely, this is the first letter I have ever written to you. I never really needed to write one—you were always there with me. And even when you were not physically beside me, you were just a phone call away.
I miss you, Mai.
You were the one I loved with all my heart. But saying “you loved me” is not enough. A mother’s love cannot be measured in words. It is eternal, unconditional, and perhaps the purest form of love that exists.
From my childhood, I somehow always felt that I had to protect you, that I had to live for you. You were so vulnerable and so innocent at times. You were an ambitious young woman whose dreams were crushed—first by your parental family and then by your marital family.
I often marvelled at your resilience, but I also struggled with the fact that you never stood up for yourself. Perhaps no one had ever taught you how. Yet, despite that, you taught us something even more valuable—to withstand pressure, to remain strong, and to follow our dreams.
Today is the first Guru Purnima when I cannot touch your feet. You are my first Guru. Distance, time, and even death cannot change that.
I still remember the last Guru Purnima in the hospital. You were so unwell. I don’t know whether I was being insensitive or simply trying to prepare myself when I said, “Mom, let me offer my last pranam to you.” And you quietly replied, “My last blessing to you. Everything comes to an end. Nothing is stagnant.”
Mai… I have carried those words in my heart ever since.
Did I, in some way, push you to leave this world by saying that?
I don’t know why this thought keeps haunting me.
I am sorry, Mom.
I love you. And I miss you far more than words can ever express.
I am still trying to figure out what life is without you. My life revolved around you—our countless conversations, those little phone calls every now and then, asking each other the smallest things. It has been a year now without hearing your voice. I still cannot believe that life has somehow continued.
But believe me, a part of me left with you forever.
However hard I try, I know I will never be the same person again.
On this Guru Purnima, I bow my head before my first Guru—my Mai.
Jai Guru, Mummy!!
Your Deepu, always.
Tag: relationships
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Beyond the Breaking News-Part 4
Violence, Fear, Perception and Agency
Deepali Bhattacharya
In conversation with TD, Clinical Psychologist · An eleven-part reflection, with notes and references
PART IV
The Crowd That Watches
“Violence is committed by one person. Helplessness is often created by many.”
The video disturbed people for many reasons.
But one detail returned repeatedly in conversations.
“So many people were standing there.”
“Why didn’t anyone intervene?”
“Couldn’t someone have stopped it?”
These questions arise almost every time footage of public violence emerges.
We imagine ourselves inside the situation and instinctively believe we would have acted differently.
Perhaps we would.
Perhaps we would not.
When I posed this question to TD, he introduced me to one of the most widely studied ideas in social psychology—the Bystander Effect. 9
Developed through the work of psychologists Bibb Latané and John Darley, the theory suggests something that appears counterintuitive.
The more people witness an emergency, the less likely any one individual is to intervene.
Responsibility becomes diluted.
Each person unconsciously waits for someone else to act. Someone older. Someone stronger. Someone more qualified. Someone else.
By the time everyone had waited, no one had moved.
Understanding this does not excuse inaction.
But it helps us understand it.
Human behaviour under stress is rarely as simple as courage versus cowardice.
Fear freezes.
Confusion delays.
Crowds look to one another for cues.
If nobody moves, stillness itself begins to feel like the appropriate response.
Yet the consequences extend far beyond the moment.
For the victim, help does not arrive.
For those watching later, another message is silently learnt.
“If nobody helped them, would anyone help me?”
This is where the psychological damage spreads.
The violence lasts for minutes.
The helplessness lasts much longer.
As someone who has spent years listening to survivors of domestic violence, I have heard another version of the same story.
“My neighbours knew.”
“My relatives suspected.”
“My colleagues noticed.”
“But nobody asked.”
Different setting.
Different violence.
The same silence.
Sometimes people remain silent because they are afraid.
Sometimes because they feel it is not their place.
Sometimes because they genuinely do not know what to do.
But from the perspective of the person experiencing violence, silence often feels indistinguishable from indifference.
Perhaps that is why communities matter so much.
Communities are not built merely by living close to one another.
They are built when responsibility remains personal.
When we stop assuming someone else will notice.
Someone else will report.
Someone else will intervene.
Kindness begins long before heroism.
It begins with paying attention.
By asking if someone is alright.
With refusing to dismiss obvious distress as “their personal matter.”
Most acts of intervention will never appear in newspapers. 10
But they may prevent tragedies that otherwise would.
A QUESTION THAT STAYED WITH ME…
If fear can stop us from acting, what helps us move again?
Before we can answer that, perhaps we need to understand something fundamental.
Fear itself is not our enemy.
Notes:
9. The foundational experiments are Darley and Latáné (1968) and Latáné and Darley (1970) on diffusion of responsibility; Fischer et al. (2011) provide the definitive meta-analysis, confirming the effect while showing it weakens in genuinely dangerous emergencies.
10. There is hopeful evidence here: Philpot et al. (2020), analysing real CCTV footage of public conflicts across three countries, found that in roughly nine out of ten incidents at least one bystander — typically several — did intervene. Intervention, not apathy, is the statistical norm.
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