“Girl, I know it’s too early to do this thing but as it says that when it’s right, it’s right. I won’t say that I’ll pull down the moon and stars for you. I won’t say that I’ll die for you because I want to live this life with you. But yes! I’ll do every possible thing which will bring a smile on your face; which will never hurt you; which will strengthen our pure relationship and that too till my last breath”.

It was dark inside the hall filled with fog on the surface and a mild romantic instrumental playing at the background, just like what I asked for to the manager of the restaurant on this valentine day. I was on my knees, proposing to her who was standing in front of me with her folded hands by her chest, in the center of the hall under the dim light on us. Though there was no need for her to say anything or give an affirmation because it was purely visible in her eyes and smile that she too loves me a lot… actually it won’t be wrong if I say that she loves me a lot.

“Yes, I love you too”, She said while holding my shoulder to make me stand on my feet and hugged tightly… tightly enough that I could feel her heartbeats in the soft silence which was thumping faster than mine. It was that, maybe because there was no fault in her love for me unlike mine for her. But I was helpless to do this to her. I was bounded to do this to myself.

More than a minute passed by and she was still under my arms like she’ll never let me go away from herself. And suddenly my phone rang up, to pick up which I tried to make myself free from her endless affection but even after that she didn’t let me go away.

“No, please. Let it be. Few more minutes… I was dying for this moment to come since I met you”, she whispered to my ears while her face resting on my shoulder, in oscillating voice. I could feel that she was crying but I said nothing. I was numb enough to not understand her feelings. My phone rang up again and I knew that this time I have to pick it up otherwise I have to face bad consequences.

“Baby, I have to take this. It’s important”, I forced and pushed her away from my arms to pick that ruthless phone which was more important than her feelings for me at that moment.

I rushed to the corridor leaving her alone in the hall to receive the call.

‘I was abou…..’ I tried to explain the reason of my late response to the call but the other guy countered in between.

‘Listen to me you asshole! Make sure you upload it by next Friday otherwise get ready to face the real me’, he threatened me. This person, who was now connected to my life, was once my well wisher (as what he used to say) but now wanted me to make profits for him. A mistake and the connection started building up with him who was leading me to nowhere but hell. I knew that what I was about to do in few days is absolutely anti social and as disgusting as he was. But I was helpless. I knew that if I won’t give him what he wants then he’ll take my life. And if I’ll do this one thing for just one time then he’ll not only spare me but also give me money. But for that I’ve to spoil someone else.

‘Sir, please! The work is almost done. You’ll get it on Friday but please be merciful to me after that’, he hung up the call as soon I finished my words.

Seven days passed by with lots of games with her feelings and here I was on Friday; Geetanjali Hotel. We were shopping in the nearest street market when it’s started raining and as per the plan, I took her to the hotel. She was all wet and so was I. I insisted her to change in here and wait for the rain to stop for which I have to take a room (which was already been booked under my name from someone else). And she agreed to that. Everything was working under the plan with her unknown from everything.

“All you need to do is switching the power button of the remote on entering the room and don’t forget to stay in focus every time’. The receptionist whispered to me as I collected the keys and the remote.

I did the same as I was asked for while entering the room. I locked the room and quietly pressed the blue button on that tiny remote which was resting in my pocket. It was the time and I was nervous. I quickly managed to check the hidden cameras’ positions and the focuses on which I should be in with her. She was standing ahead of me with her back towards my face and drying her wet hair with a towel. It was the right time for me to do the thing for which I took her to this place. Though I had touched her before, kissed her before but this time I was even nervous to look at her. I slowly put my hands over her wet shoulders which was carrying her wet and heavy clothes and looked towards her face. She turned around and gave me a mild smile which was enough for me to understand that she is ok with me getting physical with her. But there was also something as if her body was not anymore with herself. I slowly moved my hands from her shoulder to her back and made her face in front of mine. Suddenly I noticed that we’re not in focus, so I moved ahead to her by making her moving backward directly to the focus. We’re now under the focus and her face was in front of mine. We’re close enough to feel each other’s warm breath. And I put my lip over her lips. I was kissing her back to back. But she was more than numb, like she doesn’t even care what I was doing to her body. The other moment I opened my eyes, I was over her and naked. My adrenaline started rushing as fast as it could. I was totally inside her… loving her not to stop. But consciously keeping a check on being in the focus, by rolling all over the bed. The whole time her eyes were away from me unlike ever before. She never looked away from me whenever I was used to be with her but this very time, she was not with me but her body. It was a feel of loving a dead body.

Suddenly her eyes went red and ready to burst into tears and it was more than visible to understand that there is something of which she is not feeling happy.

“Baby, what happened? Are you OK? Should I stop?” I stopped there and asked her.

“You know what? I learned this very thing the time I entered the room that you’ve placed a camera behind that wasp and the wardrobe. I learned that the person whom I loved so much is going to betray me” her voice started oscillating with every word. I was surprised and ashamed. I was not even able to make eye contact with her, so I moved towards the corner of the bed and sat on it away from her with my eyes on the floor.

“I learned… that the person whose promises were nothing but just another sales speech to sale my soul and love for money. But I didn’t stop you because I wanted to see how far you can go to kill my soul. I didn’t stop you because there was no shame in you to do this kind of ru...ruthless thing to a woman who loved you so much that she was ready to SLEEP WITH YOU”, She continued and ended with a loud cry.

“But you… you complete your task. Now there is nothing in me you can destroy more. Now I am already dead. You carry on and do whatever you want. Check if we are in focus not or you want any help? TELL ME YOU FUCKER!? You want me to SMILE on it? SAY IT? SAY SOMETHING?” She burst out and started hitting my back while pulling me towards the bed.

I was ashamed enough to leave the place and die. This girl trusted me and loved me so much that she was ready to sleep with me. Me?! Who was selfishly destroying a life to save mine. Me!? Who was… or is doing a mistake to come over another mistake. I was feeling a void in myself… a void which was worst than dying. I put on my clothes, pulled out all the cameras and wiring which were hidden in there, leaving her behind crying on the bed naked and made a last call while moving out of the room.

“Hello Police station? I have something to confess”

“Hello”

“Bhaiya, Dad’s no more”

“OK, Take care of mom. I’ll be there by tomorrow”

It was 4 a.m. in the morning when my phone was buzzing with the calls from all the relatives I had; some to sympathize me and some to do more or less than that. I woke up with the news from my younger sister, and like yet another day took my day’s first fag and followed the routine; black tea, gym, bath, newspaper, breakfast… and all those stuffs which I do every day. Although, I should be in hurry to take the first flight to India, but I wasn’t feeling the haste. It was the person who used to play with me every time I needed a friend, has died. I should be shocked to death or at least numb for a moment. It was my father who died… the person who is responsible for my breathings, but I wasn’t even reacting. It felt like I’ve waited a lot for the day.

I was on the afternoon’s flight to Delhi when all started recapping; my alcoholic father whom I’ve never seen going at work, though I’ve heard from mother that he used to be the most prestigious person in the Delhi Stock Exchange. But since the day I came to my consciousness, I only saw him in fuddle and anger. I only saw him thwacking my mother and myself. All started recapping; how I did the thing which I shouldn’t have done that night to my father, despite of the fact that he was about to kill my mom. It was yet another night for us of terror and thwacks then why I raised it!? Since that night I neither talked to my father and nor had I made any eye contact with him; neither when I got the scholarship to study in US nor when I got married. I should have contacted him for once at least to make him realize that what he used to say about me was bullshit, that I can never be a moneymaker, but I never did so because he, as a father, never cared to know my well beings. He never cared about what I’ve become or who I was. He always cared about his bottles.

Reckless memories of my father narrowed the 23 hours journey to a minute and brought me back to the place where I never wanted to come; Delhi.

It was a normal environment at the house, not like what it should be in a typical Indian house where someone died just a day before; house of dolor. Few relatives were there which I could recognize from my maternal side but hardly two or four from the other side. They’re taking the sip of tea and blander dashing on the recent government’s decision on price rising, banning beefs and all which don’t relate to the person for whom they’re there. The condition at the house was not surprising to me as the person who died had not done any good to other people. Even if he had, then it must be lesser than the bad ones. And it should be; no matter how much good a person had done to you, a single bad thing can ruin all the good deeds. Neither there was something like my father owned any property so, that his relatives would even able to find a part in it. It was looking like the people at the house were not there to sympathize us, but just to confirm the death. All eyes were on me seeking tears on my eyes like a daily soap drama.

“Oh my son! Poor son! What happened is not good. I am sorry for your loss”, it was my mother’s only sister who once used to damn on our family and my father but was now hugging and consoling me as if she was the only well-wisher. Once according to her, it was my mother’s fault to get married to an alcoholic person and her luck that she got married to an NRI. 

“It’s very kind of you. Now if you’ll leave me then I’ll see mother”, though there was no need to consolidation as I was OK but I wanted to see my mother if she is fine. But she was fine… more than I was, though I could see the dried tears on her lid which was showing that she was done with her mourning.

“How was the flight? Well, let’s get done with the tithis”, mother said while calling the pandit.

I decided to go with the Arya Samaj rituals. It is the century who believes in 320kps speed and so do I. The scene at the ghat was nothing less than like a local government‘s office. A huge number of dead bodies were covered with white cloths with a white flower’s ring bouquets and other rituals stuff lying over the bodies. Every single person was in dolor for their losses, but at the same time in hurry to get done with yet another formality.

“There you go. Our number is 23”, uncle said while handing over a piece of paper written 23 over it.

“23! I didn’t catch it”

“Well it means bhaiya’s body will get inside electric heater once these 22 bodies will get done. Thankfully the caretaker over here is a friend of mine so we get at least 23, otherwise it won’t be get done before 58”, uncle said while pointing towards the other bodies which were lying in the waiting hall with dad’s one too. It was unbelievable that more than 50 people died within two days in Delhi and more, that even after so, the population is increasing day by day instead of decreasing.

“How much time it’ll take”, I asked him so to confirm the exit.

“Well generally a dead body takes about 45 minutes but as Bhaiya was old and his body must contain more alcohol than blood, it won’t take more than 20 minutes”, uncle uttered with his filthy mouth, with a clinch of smile on his face. My dad was his elder brother and once he helped him to open a shop in the native place, so that he could feed his family. But all went in vain with his death that even his own brother is making fun of his void body.

While waiting for dad’s number, I saw those 22 bodies getting burnt and 22 different kinds of relatives of them; some in mourn, some in hurry, some damning the body and some taking last blessings. And then came our turn. It was unexplainable what I felt when dad’s body was getting inside the heater. I wanted to cry because no matter how he was to me or my mother, he was my father but I controlled myself because what he did to us was overweighing everything and for which he was never regretful.

Four days past by and I was done with all the rituals. It was my time to get back to my life which was less voided than this life. I was ready with my luggage to catch the first flight to SF.

“Son, there is something inside the drawer of your father’s study table which your father wanted you to check as his last words”, mom said holding my hand when I was about to get inside the taxi.

“I’ll check it next time. I am getting late”, I resisted seeing what my father left for me. It was harder to believe that he left something for me and if it is, then it can’t be a big thing to check out.

“I know son, your next time will never come. It IS your last visit”, mom knows me more than anyone and she understood that I won’t come back. I went to my father’s room. It was filled with darkness and the hawan’s smoke with folded mattress on the bed and empty wardrobe. Since five years I haven’t entered this room but now I was there to check his stuffs. It was the same table on which once my father used to work on the stocks and then used to drink hard enough to kill his consciousness.

I pulled the drawer and found the same rusted green colored steel box which I used to keep as my money bank. The box in which I used to put a one rupee coin every day before I left home. I loved savings and this gave me my career; a banker. The box was heavier than the time I left it. Those one rupee coins were having different specification in it pointing that in last five years, how many times the government has changed the design of it. There was a note left inside it with the coins.

SON, THIS WAS ONLY THE THING WHICH I COULD DO FOR YOU; FILLING THIS BOX WITH YOUR SMALL DREAMS. I AM PROUD THAT PEOPLE DON’T SAY THAT YOU ARE GONE OVER ME.

I AM SORRY FOR EVERYTHING.

And it rolled down from my eyes.

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!?