“The number on the blackboard was important to me. I jotted it in a piece of paper. I thought someday I will have the courage to call the number and share my story. My situation was worsening. I had to run to the latrine every 5 mins. I could never catch my breath. No amount of air seemed enough. Sometimes I felt I was going to die. I trembled at the thought and I trembled other times too. Sometimes my jaws shook and I would try to hold it with my hands. I was afraid all the time. I felt someone was looking and they knew that I had a problem. And if they knew then it was not a good thing. They would laugh at me. I did not want my husband to find out. He was an angry man. He was a man who drank and who smoked. Maybe he had his own worries. I tried to change him but I could not. Over the years the stress reached its peak. There was a day when I could not work in the kitchen. I knew I had to do something. With breath that was declining every second, I slowly made my way to my room. I frantically searched everywhere. In my bags, in the cupboard, under the rugs, under my clothes and in drawers. I found it. I had not lost a piece of paper. The number took me back to the meeting. The mental health campaigners had said, “If you go through such and such symptoms and need help, call us, we will come.” I called the madams and they came in no time. 

That phone call saved me. They came and they listened to me. Half my worries left that day. They told me I could get help if I wanted. Soon after I visited a doctor. When he told me I could get better it was hard for me to believe as I had expected that my life could not return back to normal. The medicines have helped. I am able to continue volunteering to help other women. And it makes me happy. Although I still struggle at times, I am not suffering all the time. My husband has also made changes in his life and there is peace at home. And anytime, I feel down and hopeless, I have numbers to call.”