In the quiet town of Rishanpur, lived a counselor named Ira Dev.
She was known for her calm voice, clear thinking, and sharp instincts.
People came to her with broken hearts and tangled stories, trusting her to untie their pain.
One cloudy Thursday morning, a new couple came to see her.
Arvind, a well-mannered man with tired eyes, sat beside his wife Menka, who seemed both alert and distant—like someone struggling to stay afloat in a quiet storm.
Arvind spoke first.
“She’s changed. She thinks I’m against her, but I’m only trying to help. I care deeply for her. I’ve taken care of my mother and her without fail.”
Menka looked down, her hands tightly folded.
“I feel trapped. I hear voices in the silence. I doubt myself…and him. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Ira noted their words carefully. She had seen many such cases—misunderstandings that grew like weeds, fed by time and silence.
But that night, Ira couldn’t sleep. Something felt off. She opened Menka’s psychological report and read line by line. Confusion. Thought disturbance. Disorientation. But also: long-term emotional neglect. High-functioning. Fearful, but still hopeful.
Ira closed the file and opened her journal. She began writing:
“Who am I siding with? Arvind, the responsible husband? Or Menka, whose cries sound strange but real? Is my mind judging Menka too quickly because she’s not easy to understand?”
Days passed. Each session revealed more.
Ira saw how Arvind rarely asked how Menka felt—only spoke of what he did for her.
She saw how Menka longed to be seen, not managed.
One evening, after yet another session, Ira looked into her mirror.
She whispered, “Do I listen to fix… or to understand?”
She wrote one final line in her journal:
“The mirror doesn’t lie. But sometimes, I do—by calling assumption empathy.”
Inspiring Message
Sometimes, truth is not what we hear first—it’s what we’re brave enough to see when we stop assuming and start listening.
Real empathy begins when we let go of our need to be right and open our hearts to understand.
Leave a Reply