“What mental health needs is more sunlight, more candor, and more unashamed conversation.”
— Glenn Close
In a country like ours, where survival often takes precedence over self-reflection, conversations about mental health still sit on the margins. For those living with Thalassemia, these silences grow even louder.
It starts subtly. A long, lingering stare into nothingness. A sudden outburst over something small. That one moment at dinner when they go completely quiet, lost in their own world. Or the constant urge to withdraw from routines—missing a transfusion date, skipping meals, forgetting medication.
These are not “just mood swings.” These are not “just teenage tantrums” or “just how they are.” These are quiet cries for help. But because mental health isn’t always visible—especially when physical health demands all the attention—it gets dismissed. Over and over again.
Parents, often overwhelmed themselves, may not see it for what it is. They may think their child is just “reserved,” or “short-tempered,” or “lazy.” But under that label is a young warrior carrying a mountain of emotional weight—one they were never taught how to name, let alone carry.
Imagine being a child who knows they need blood every two weeks to stay alive. Who grows up with reminders of mortality, restrictions on playtime, a fridge filled with medicines, and a calendar packed with hospital visits. It’s more than any young mind should have to process.
And yet, we expect them to stay strong. To smile through it all. To be grateful. To not complain.
But mental health isn’t a luxury. It’s not optional. Especially not for someone already living in survival mode. For Thalassemia warriors, the body may be in treatment—but the mind often remains ignored, untouched, uncared for.
Their stress isn’t ordinary—it’s chronic. Unlike momentary anxiety, this kind of stress festers daily. The oppressive environment they grow up in—marked by illness, scarcity, and emotional neglect—only worsens their physical condition, often leading to issues like hypertension and other chronic disorders. Over time, this creates a damaging loop: difficulty focusing, detachment from meaningful relationships, and a constant performance of being “fine” while drowning in anxiety and fear. This unresolved trauma, often unspoken and unseen, not only weakens their resilience but chips away at their will to fight. Many pass away young—not just from the disease, but from a life never given space to heal.
It’s time we changed that.
It’s time we listened, not just to the words they say, but to the silence they sit in.
– Rajesh Thakur.
