B1:The day when I was asked, "How are you? "

The day when I was asked, “How are you?”

     
         Walking on the street on a Monday morning, feeling the warmth of the sun touching my skin and taking in all the pure air, the light but yet freezing wind blowing my hair, enrolled in setting them straight,  I ran into my long-forgotten friend, Jason. He was all dressed up in a black suit with a blue tie, feet cloaked in expensive shoes, hair all properly jelled, wrist covered with a bankrupting worth of watch, carrying a posh briefcase and holding a cup of Starbucks coffee, he looks at me and surprisingly speaks those words, “Hey Cami! HOW ARE YOU?” Leaving me wordless I drown in my subconscious to find the correct words to reply to the question whose answer the world quest for.

[ Cami is an artist. She is a 23 years old painter who paints for earning income.  From her childhood, she was drawn towards painting and thereby decided to take up painting as a career. She was an average student unlike her elder brother (Matt) and sister (Cassey) who always marked their way out in the toppers list. Her parents (Mr. and Mrs. Simmons) being a part of a rich business society didn’t really consider their daughter doing something artistic rather than business. Tired of their mocking and bickering she took a decision to move out. Painting for art galleries, she made her life and living. Cami has a business-owning boyfriend(Steve).]

The previous week……….

     It is a Monday morning and as thrilled as Cami could be she received a letter of invitation from her parent’s another success party on Saturday, “How astonishing for the start of the day!” (she sighs discontentedly). On her way to the art gallery, she received a text from her boyfriend,
 *family dinner get-together on Sunday, 7pm*.  “So much for a Monday morning, huh” (she whispered). It was the week of exhibitions. Her six paintings were on display for which she worked hard for the past three months. Cami was all excited, nervous, and desperate to know about the destiny of her paintings which was linked to hers. Day1 ie. Monday ended resulting in no sale of her paintings. Tired and disappointed Cami returned home with a few words of hope given by her mentor at the art gallery, “it is just a beginning ”.
But, the following days were not much in her fate, leaving unsold paintings and upset Cami. She skipped meals and became weaker and weaker both mentally and physically. It was Friday, day 5, and the final day of the exhibition. None of Cami’s paintings were sold. They were unsold but not unappreciated. Her mentor gave Cami the money she deserved for her service but also gave her the last assignment, ‘If you get your new paintings sold in next exhibition then you are in or otherwise out from the art gallery’. Cami went home, sick and weak from the despairs and failures of her attempt to become a successful artist, thinking about attending the two dinner parties of successful businessmen.
With all the misery of headache and giddiness, she woke up for attending her parent’s success party. Cami wore a simple navy blue dress, neither too short nor too long to fit in the rich people's party. The party on the other side wasn’t that simple, it was well-planned and elegantly executed. Somewhere, somewhat Cami found herself as a misfit as she looked across the hall filled with people who are successful, rich, and established with a recognizable status in the society including her own siblings. Apart from great appetizers and classical music, she also tasted disappointment and heard the words of hopelessness from her family. As if everything was going right, she happens to have an incident of breaking glass and hurting herself. She wasn’t treated but was yelled at in front of everyone, giving her no choice but to leave the party with a bleeding palm. The cut was quite deep than she expected and thus got it first aided by a doctor. She spent her time on the bed crying and figuring out what the tears are for …. Are they the tears of exhibition failure or the bleeding and burning cut or the treatment by her family at the party?
The next morning Cami woke up with a reminder message from her boyfriend about the family dinner. Being in not so good mood and having a rough week and a deadly weekend start Cami decided to be a good girlfriend. Steve’s dinner party was quite bearable, as his parents liked Cami and her art. Steve’s family always welcomes and supports Cami. The dinner wasn’t a disaster as she hoped and it ended with the beautiful words of her boyfriend, “If I forgot to mention you look very pretty in this pink dress. I am sorry about the week you had with the exhibition and yesterday’s dinner as well as your cut, sorry for not being there. But I do know that my girlfriend is all strong to fight all these hardships and that one day she’ll make her parents proud and get all that she wishes for. I love you, Cami”. Cami was happy to hear that.
       She then, fortunately, received a text message from her mother *take care of yourself and the wound, love mom*. Cami went home with all hope for a new week and a new beginning.

Credit: flock

 Present day…..

        Searching for the right words, I wondered what to answer, does he mean to know about my physical health which is I am sick, tired carrying a headache and a hurting palm or he wants to know about my mental health which is I feel sad, depressed, stressed, anxious but also happy with yesterday’s message from my mother and my boyfriend. What is it that we always expect people to answer that question? What do we really want to know? Do we want to know if they are healthy, fit, or stable, if are they doing well in their life, and if are they happy or successful? What is it we really want to know? As a person answering the question, what do we want to answer? Do we want them to know how we really are? How bad or how good we are doing? How fucked up or how great we are? Do we really think our answer to that question matter and if we think this why do we even bother to ask such questions?

     "How are you? " this question has always been the most formal yet most personal question.  And no one in this world knows how to react to it and what to do with the answer.

    Uncertain of my own state how could I tell anyone how I am, what do I answer if I myself don't know the answer. Will we ever know the correct answer to this question? Will we ever be able to say how we are? To end this craziness, I answered the question with the words used by everyone to end this battle of mystery, “I am fine.”

By,
Humaira Kazi.