It was my 43rd continued insomniac day and my eyes loaded up with fire but I knew that I can’t sleep. I almost forgot the last time when I took the bath or even had something to eat. But I was not starving, maybe because stomach is filled with liquors… lots of liquors. It was dark inside the room just apt for me and days back blocked every corner of it from where the light could even reach. The room was so filled with smoke and darkness that I was not even able to see the cigarette packet which I kept few minutes back somewhere on the bed. I groped and whatever was coming to my hands were the bottles which were all over the place. Well, the phone also came into the grip – 562 MISSED CALLS, 1021 WHATS-APP MESSAGES and 2132 TEXT MESSAGES. Though my left hand was hurting very badly as I tried to cut the vein 3-4 times but in vain, I managed to get the cigarettes.
A puff of it and all started playing again into my mind – spoiled career, broken dreams and my girlfriend. How I tried over the limit to save them but failed in all. How I kept on fighting and struggling to get those which were mine or could have been mine. But the matter of the fact was, I failed every time. This was the moment which was laughing at my condition – a failed person, with all of them who expected a lot from me but… I failed in all of them… I failed myself.
The agony was killing me softly, so I decided then and there to end this. I decided to end this ruthless and failed life. So what would be the best thing which could kill in a blink without any pain – Cyanide? But I was almost bankrupted. Dozens of sleeping pills would be the best way.
Finally I came out of the room for the last time to buy some pills. The sunlight was killing my eyes even under sunglasses but I was determined to kill myself. I was with the pills and heading towards my home when I saw Sharma aunty who was (like always) crying on the bench in the colony’s park and again with bruises on her face. Though it was a common scene for us, the neighborhoods and an open case of domestic violence but I always wanted to talk to her about this. I always ignored it – why to dig neighbor’s garden and you never know when people will start making scores on you. But it was different this time – my last day on earth and at least I can talk to her.
“Hello, Aunty”. I kept the pill inside my pocket and greeted her.
“Hello beta. Where were you? And what happened? You are looking screwed too”, she greeted back with a fake smile.
“You mind if I sit here”, it was better to take permission. I didn't want to live my last day with bruises too.
Ten minutes passed by and I didn't even ask her if she’s OK which was not looking obvious.
“You know nobody talks to me in this colony…” suddenly she broke out the silence.
“Well nobody talks to me now and maybe I know why you people don’t talk to me, because I’m spouse of an alcoholic and violent person. Is this my fault?” she said in an oscillated voice and tears.
“I...I I”, I was thoughtless as we never spoke to each other before and suddenly she was sharing her personal life with me.
“28 years and still I am struggling with myself. Sometimes I even thought to end this brutal life but I didn’t. In fact now I’m used to these bruises. You know why?” and she looked into my eyes seeking for the answer which I didn't know.
“Because of my daughter. I know that one day she will come and rescue me from him. She promised me the day she left for her studies that she will come back and take me with her and then we’ll live our life happily ever after. I’m living and struggling in life so that one day when I’ll be with her and happy, I will forget all these violent days. And I would feel grateful to have such a child without whom it would not be possible”. And she walked away, ending the first and the last conversation with me. There was a spark in her eyes when she was talking about her daughter. In those 10 minutes, I saw two different phases in her – one who is living her present days in violence and the other who is foreseeing the future with hope. There was incandescence of hope in her eyes of which she was not sure that whether she’ll get those happy days or not. But still she was hopeful and will happily struggle.
I was still on that bench and thinking about her. Why is she living such a miserable life? Why wouldn't she just leave him or kill him or even kill herself? Why she is so much hopeful about the future? What is the guarantee that her daughter will come back to take her? How can she be so much optimistic? And many more questions which were weakening my decision to kill myself. I was desperate to end this miserable and meaningless life which was less miserable than hers.
I took out the pills and thought about the decision which I took the morning – suicide, and this is what is I’ll do. I stood up and moved towards my destination. Suddenly I noticed Munna counting some old folded notes with his tiny hands. Munna was a kid from the nearest slum who used to do household work for the entire area – whether you want laundry or you want some groceries, he’ll be there to get your work done ASAP but of course for tips. I heard many times that he also used to exchange his services for some books.
“What are you watching at? It’s my money, sir” he noticed me staring at him.
“Good for you. From where did you accrued those and in what exchange?”
“Two years! I was accruing this from last two years for my school. And now I’ll also go to school”, he said while raising his ragged collar.
“TWO YEARS! Well, that’s a very long time. I must say you’re a very small kid to understand the meaning of patience and giving up”, I don’t know why I asked this question to a kid; maybe I was convinced that this kid is the answer to all my questions.
“Giving up! Well, I was born in slum and a onetime bread is enough to put a smile on our face. What could be worse than this? Amma says that now we have already lost every possible thing and one day will come when we’ll only achieve and get happiness because then there would be nothing to loose”, Munna uttered big words from his small mouth.
“Kid, you do a lot of big talks. I’ll wish you’ll never face anymore loses or fatigue”, I said while feeling pity on myself but not on him.
“Absolutely sir, I’ll never give up. But you know what, when Jhilmil gave up her life then I also started thinking that maybe school is not a subject in our karma then Amma told me that one should have a lot of guts to give up and should have unlimited guts to face the huddles of life and struggle. I’ve unlimited guts and I won’t give up until and unless I won’t get admission in school and won’t become a big man like you all, sir. And one day I’ll also speak fluent English like you, sir”, he justified himself with the same spark which was in Sharma aunt’s eyes. And maybe I was getting my answers. I was feeling proud on him and pity on myself so I took out some money out of my valet and tried giving it to him.
“No sir. I don’t want charity. I’ll go to school and I’ll become a big man but on my own and on my own guts so that one day when I’ll become the same, I’ll remember my slum days and celebrate my victory which I achieved on my own. Amma says…”, He refused to take the money and finally gave me all the answers for why Sharma aunty was ready to face the brutality of her husband, Why Munna is ready to fight with the world, Why David is not giving up in searching for the job from last 4 years, Why Saraswati is not giving up on her family to accept her boyfriend as her life partner and Why all of them who are struggling, are not giving up? Because of determination and hope. I was strongly determined to kill myself for which I ignored all the huddles but what would really happen If I determine to get all the things which I lost or which I want – career, love and everything. This is one of our problems – we can easily and strongly determine to harm ourselves but not if there is struggle then we’ll just give up on it!
I threw the pills on the road and stepped up to my home for a new start – ready to face any kind of loses because now I understood that what would be the taste of the wining which I’ll get in future for sure.
PS: I realized that it would be better if I’ll just return back the pills to the medico – well, get my money back. So I came back to the street but found nothing. Someone picked it from the street. Maybe someone like me!?
