Silent suffering in the hinterland Premium

Superstitions, social stigma and dearth of awareness prevent residents of Andhra’s interior areas from accessing effective mental healthcare

At first glance, Durga is a happy young woman. Her bright smile contrasts with her fading yellow saree, and her long, neatly pleated hair shimmers in the sun. A yellow thread lay snugly around her neck, and a pair of golden earrings beamed against her dark complexion. Her serene appearance, however, belies the stress weighing down on her, and as she recalls her days from October last, the smile weakens, and tears bead in her eyes.

Durga, a Dalit, was a helper at a government school in Kotikalapudi, a village in Ibrahimpatnam mandal of NTR district. During the two years she worked, she and another helper would sweep the school compound and clean the four bathrooms and nine classrooms every day.

“It was tough,” says Durga, “I would prepare lunch for my husband and children and get them ready for school before leaving for work,” says Durga, who felt it was her responsibility to help her husband, Ravi, in running the household however she could. And her ₹6,000 a month did indeed shore up Ravi’s earnings of ₹400-₹500 a day, helping their family of four navigate the vagaries of life.

So, Durga was crestfallen when she lost her job last year, and mounting debts, anxiety over their children’s future and a debilitating poverty took a toll on her mental health. She confined herself indoors and burst into tears when no one was around. She did not eat for days and spent sleepless nights battling thoughts of ending her life.

Lacking any proper education, the 29-year-old did not understand what afflicted her. “My head throbbed constantly, and my outbursts of anger alienated my children and husband,” she says.

What exacerbated her suffering was the constant fear of prying eyes spinning tales about her. She dreaded being branded a “mental” (mentally ill), or worse, ‘possessed’. Durga claims that it is common in her village to take such individuals to a temple, durgah or a church, where elaborate rituals are performed to “shoo away the spirit”.

Around 10 kilometres from Kotikalapudi, at Ibrahimpatnam town, John sits in his old auto-rickshaw outside a tin-roof house. A tall man with the expressions of a child, he wears a confused look on his face. Two of his lower front teeth are missing, and words slurred mildly as he spoke.