Suicide

No. I can’t. I simply can’t. All this cruel world has given me are a set of shattered dreams and unfulfilled promises. I just can’t.... No more depressing mornings, no more numb evenings I want to see. All I want to do is to slip into a deep slumber. A peaceful slumber, a few metres under beneath the lap of this earth.

All I want to do...is suicide.

A ramshackle Wilkinson Sword blade was the weapon I found after scanning through among the rubble in my bedroom. My right hand glanced along her surface, feeling its deadly smoothness. But the question remained....which hand – left or right..? Which one was destined to provide me the path to nirvana? It was tough to decide. After a lot of forethought and afterthought, I made the call. After all, I had to make the call. So be it my left hand. A snort of derision spread across my countenance as I stared at my right hand. “Huh, you call yourself my comfortable hand, do you? But when the need came, your other half stepped forward....”

Caressing the matrix of bluish-greenish blood vessels adorning my left wrist, I moved towards the window. Hopefully one last time. A gentle breeze, I reflected. “This year, the summer wasn’t that very hot. The new Air Conditioner didn’t turn out to be a good investment. And I really don’t know why people want to increase the air conditioning capacity in the office. I very often end up feeling really cold out there….” The breeze began to play with my hair. Irritated, I started putting my hair back to its place. “Next time I go to barber shop, I’ll make sure he really trims it to the maximum possible extent. A military cut style....”

It is then when I noticed a piece of paper fluttering on the table adjoining the window. Gas cylinder bill. S**t, today is the last date. If I don’t pay up, those people are surely going to disconnect my connection. I can’t afford to run after reconnection formalities, I really can’t. Switching on my computer, hopefully one last time, I made the payment online. Ufff, what a relief. Thank God, I remembered at least today.

I brought the blade closer to its intended destination. And I thrust myself onto the rexin settee.

Hey, what the hell am I doing..? It’s hardly been a month I bought the new settee. And if blood falls onto it, the stains are really going to be tough to eliminate. Immediately I pushed open my closet, took out a white towel and spread it on the settee. Thank God, at least now I remembered....

At last, hopefully for one last time, I closed my eyes. I hardly felt any feeling the infinitesimal moment the blade slit my left wrist.

I opened my eyes hoping that I’d be half dead. All I saw on my left wrist was a pore, slightly bigger in size than nanoscopic dimensions. I cursed myself. Someone who can’t even keep a sharp blade in his apartment ought not to live...

In a moment of rage, I threw out the Wilkinson Sword through the window and paced my way to the kitchen. A knife...a decently sharp knife.

It was when I entered the kitchen that it dawned on me. Oh... I forgot to keep today’s milk in the fridge. How forgetful can one get... I nearly about screwed up my bed coffee tomorrow morning... Thank God, I remembered at least now...

At last I found the knife. Carrying the knife along with me, I came back to the living room and was just about to sit on the settee when the clock facing the dirty Formica wall unit, embarked on its 9’O Clock chime.

Good God… 9 already? Wasn’t today the semifinals of Indian Idol...? I think it will be that curly haired guy Karan’s day today. He really outperformed the others in the initial elimination rounds. He should make it through to the finals. My fingers found their way to the remote control lying idle on the sofa and closed in on the Start button.

Do let me watch today’s episode. Indian Idol, hopefully one last time. I can always suicide tomorrow, can’t I....

The Unvoiced Ruminations

When you "try" creating something at the end of a very normal day in office, it is highly probable that it ends up looking quite like the piece below. Nonetheless, Nostalgia deserves a pardon I believe.... and lot more other chances. To apologize...!!!

Loved you for epochs did I,
and still... the love remains.
Desired for ages did I...
...to catch a glimpse of you,
behind the vibrant peepal tree,
shadowing my college campus.
Still remember afresh,
the solemn moment,
when I saw that smile for once, the firstest,
under the shade of the umbrella,
a romantic monsoon eve.

That flashes of a smile,
painted a thousand colours in me.
But...where did she disappear,
a word unattered...
The musings of adolescence transformed,
you grew up...
You were a wife, you became a mother.
Those nights I dreamt,
those nights I painted,
colours to my life.

Never ask me to forget those days,
those days we were together...
those days we laughed...
those nights we quarreled.
The love you gave, graced my heart.
The two of us, on the path of love,
hand in hand, the bantering rains...
...they added their charm.
Did we know what we desired…
did you know what made you wait for me...
...in the mangroves, in the canteens...
I did know...I did.

Dreamt together we did...
little did I dream, about unfulfilled reveries.
Often seconds shaded themselves between hours,
When I waited...for my angel to come.
You for me...me for you,
I dreamt...beyond the heavens.
The me in me, wanted the you in you.

Another day it was...
...not quite the same as yesterday though.
The glorious bubble burst that day,
the day it dawned we won’t be together...
for life.
Like a craven started crying did I.
I don’t have anything for you dear...
...except...this drop of tear.

Was it a fantasy...
that you dream about life when you haven’t understood it...?
Much did we crave to be one,
but someone from up above seemed to tease...
The stab still remains, in the heart,
all I console, believing it’s all been for good.

You...
you gave me a lot to think.
Like the excitement of an odd summer rain.
Even today...
...all I have, is that bundle of memories.
The memories called...life.

The Road Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost, 1916



Once I was small,
I longed for the skies.
It was bad; you couldn’t touch the moon,
until my poppa lifted me on his shoulders,
the moon...it was closer now.


“Grow up tall, grow up fast,”
poppa said.
I yearned, to grow up...
...to grow up, be like my poppa.


Was interest that propped me to school.
I asked my miss,
“Why is A for Apple?”
The cane rap on my knucklebone couldn’t cameth faster.
I didn’t know that she didn’t know,
maybe she didn’t know that I did want to know.


It was then I saw the fork,
in front of me they diverged.
One path was weeded,
rhododendrons blocked my horizon thence.
Maybe I never bothered to sift through
the floral undergrowth.
The cleaner path was the one the multitude took,
aaahh the horizon...was so easily visible.


I took the path the bourgeois took.
The road not taken...
...remained the road not taken.


Emerged out to the outside world,
In “flying colours” they said.
“Wish you luck,” they said,
“Got a great life ahead,” they said.
Only I did know, that I didn’t want this life.
The me in me died,
as with the answer...to my kindergarten question.


Into a job meandered my life,
all I cared for was the coffers status.
The hackneyed my boss was,
the coffers touched the skies,
never did I attempt to.


I took the path the bourgeois took.
The road not taken...
...remained the road not taken.


I still aim for the skies...
It’s just that now I simulate my sky,
Just below the ceiling of my home...
I take the path the bourgeois take.
The road not taken...
...still remains the road not taken.
And that....has made all the difference.