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The third eye

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Being your borther's keeper means keeping him alive**

Was I my brother's keeper?

For years, my cousin Jay and I would chat on the phone for two hours at a stretch, see each other during breaks and go on roadtrips together. He was the closest thing I had to a brother.

When I was feeling down, Jay had the amazing ability to make me laugh and feel better about myself. Of course, that's not to say he didn't have his periods of moodiness--we all have those --but he seemed to maintain a sense of humor.

One early Monday morning last January, I got a call from my uncle, who was waiting downstairs near my commons room and wanting to talk to me. A little surprised and a lot sleepy, I walked down and asked him what was going on.

I can only guess why he felt this way: Jay was pre-med; not because he wanted to be, but because he felt pressured by his community to "achieve." While this expectation is common among American families with parents who are physicians, it is heightened to frightening degrees in some Asian-American communities.

In fact, my cousin had once said he wanted to drop out of college. He wasn't exactly the academic type; he liked to watch television, practice martial arts, play his electric guitar and take his dog for walks.

But Jay couldn't drop out. That was not an appropriate choice to make in our pre-professional culture of competition and "success."

There is no way to pinpoint the reason Jay killed himself, but I am certain now that he was clinically depressed several times during his life. I regret not having known the symptoms of this disorder.

Clinical depression affects 15 million Americans each year. One-fourth of all women and one-eighth of all men will suffer at least one episode of depression during their lifetimes. At Duke and other top universities, more than 10 percent of undergraduates will seek professional mental help at least once during their college careers. The actual number affected may be much greater because the depressed individual and his friends often don't recognize the symptoms or don't see it as a serious illness.

The tragic twist to my cousin's story is that he sought professional help and had a long talk with his mom two days before he took his life. He even asked her for medication. Nobody seems to have recognized the warning signals, or else they were passed off as a temporary "sophomore slump." We all loved him and feel somewhat responsible for his suicide. That's not going to bring Jay back.

We all have loved ones with whom we can interact on a deep emotional level. Part of the difficulty in helping someone who is depressed is first recognizing their mental state; the other part is making the decision to confront the person about their problem. Some might say they don't have the nerve or desire to confront their friend. Some might say they can't do anything to help a friend who has a death wish. But consider this: Showing that you care may give the person a sense of worth; showing that you care may stop them from committing suicide.

Ultimately, suicide is a selfish act that inflicts severe pain on a person's loved ones. Often those who consider committing suicide don't see the ramifications of their actions but rather wallow in self-pity and feelings of worthlessness. They need help--all we have to do is take the time to look and listen.

My cousin was my best friend and the only brother I ever knew. Writing this column has been cathartic to the extent that I hope someone reading this will recognize the warning signals and will be concerned enough to help their friend and loved one.

Are you your brother's keeper? Sometimes, if you want to keep him, the answer is "yes."

Sanjay Bhatt is a Trinity senior and Medical Center editor of The Chronicle.