This morning,
a clouded summer morning, I called D to tell ‘I quit. I cannot do this anymore.
I am going to die’
I had my
reasons, of course everyone have their reasons for their actions, right.
Anyways, the point is simple ‘ennala mudiyala. Sema vazhiya irukku’. Every
single thought process in my mind is streaming down to one point - death. I feel
it is better to die, this whole fight is worthless.
I prepared
lentil (kollu)rasam last evening, that was for my today’s lunch. If you have
ever tasted it in your life you would know the specialty and importance of it.
12000 miles from my home, I had made this rasam to replenish my memories so
that I can find energy to keep going. Such small and beautiful moments are the
ones that make up my life. Rasam was spoiled this noon during my lunch, half my
rice also had got wasted with it. The pessimist in me tells now I am half empty
stomach. The optimist tells am half full stomach with wonderful lentil dhal and
curd rice.
My mind goes
with the pessimist inside me now. I am not able to take the fact that all that I
had done has gone waste. Like musician has his very important piece somewhere
in the middle of his creation, rasam is very important note in my lunch menu.
Now my life
is like my rasam. The very important moment is spoiled, ruined. There have
always been very small things I had loved and enjoyed, but all that has spoiled
now. I don’t see meaning without them. Like my lunch, it has now meaning. There
is reason for the food and the order that we eat it. Similarly in my life there
were things that had to be in order and how it should have gone, but now all is
topsy turvy. I do some here, I dream some there, I wish to be somewhere when
all I am is here without any interest. This is not I should be living for.
Okay, let me
go do what I want, I thought to myself, I planned for it; promised to be strong
for it; hoped to get back and do all that. Still I called D this morning.
It is the
same me who had changed a suicidal girl into an ambitiously career purser (she
would be devastated if I die now, her own words); who always stood till end of everything to see
what happens next (I have seen and made 10 more people to see Anti-Christ movie
till end); who thought defeats leads to great victory; who had ambition to
become a very filthily rich person; who wished to have dozen kids playing all
over his home and farm; who thought living in itself was a pleasure; who was so
eager to make a mark in this history before dying; who wanted to have even
strangers come mourn over his dead body.
What happened
to this ‘same me’? Why do I feel to quit? I have gone through all this hurdles
for this?
These are
the questions that come to you, the same that D asked me. I have never been
good at explaining things to anyone, leave D alone. D can prove gravity is up
and I cannot even prove that the word ‘apple’ starts with letter ‘A’. That is
my case.
Same thing
happened this morning. He has convinced me to be alive, for a time period where
I would write down all the reasons that I have for dying, or atleast turn back
to see what I have across to get this mind set. It is not so strange right?
More than that there is one more thing, he had asked ‘you have believed me every time, believe
this one time, if you feel the same after that point, then I will not stop you’.
This is the first time he had asked me something like this.
I have never
been able to be rigid or say no, that is how I had grown. I have seen very less
people telling no on others face, on top of it, this is D, how can I tell no
As per his
request, I am going to live for some more time in this world, I do not know how
long that is going to be for. Before I quit I would like to record things that
have been running in my mind and things I had faced. It should have happen to
all of us, at one point of time. By writing it down here, I would be able to
connect to that moment of yours with my moment, like a Dejavu. Let us see how
much of it we come across. I have had many, people around me know about it.
From the
time I am able to remember, I have had this question, ‘why do people want to
live?’ With all killing troubles around them, people want to live, they want one
more last second, one more last minute, one more last supper, one more last
hug, one more last day, only one more of all of it. Why? Why everyone is so
focused for it? Why afraid of end? Is it so horrible?
One
reasonable explanation is that no one lives the present moment, so they need
more of it to enjoy it more.
For me, I do
not know if I had had lived all my moments, but my life has been a satisfactory
one till now. So why to die then, if life has being so good and satisfactory?
The reason
is this, the little boy inside me is in his death bed. The pressure in his
respiratory pipe is constantly increasing. He has been breathing very scarcely for
years now and whatever he has breathed is only poisonous smoke. He is being tortured.
Who is doing all this right? Why should a small boy be killed? Answer is
simple- he has to become a man. So to be a man I myself am killing the boy, I
have to, if not there is a big queue to kill him.
This small
boy has been the very source for my satisfactory life till now. If he dies I
die; my identity is lost; there is no more anything left of me. I don’t want to
see me living a single day like that. I have to kill this man before this. This
is not a decision that was taken in a rage, anxiety, rush or any feelings. This
has been a well thought out solution as of now. Mother nature also has told me
to do this. How? I will tell you that part of the story as we go, it has an
interestingly silly and serious side.
I have been
seeing every single person around me after they have lost their girl/boy. I
have seen various countries’ people by now. With all that experience I have
seen that all have a slight trace of her/him, but this life and its day-to-day
pressure has made them not think about it. If they think about it, they would
become a rebel or kill themselves, but they can’t do their usual work. That is
why they have to forget it.
I am going
to tell the story of this boy. He has so many colours as a rainbow. He has
tried to uproot a coconut tree to brush as his grandfather told, but the same
grandfather is afraid to tell him to remove his beard; he could have been a
good husband, wonderful son, great employee, a terrific rapist and a serial
killer, still he became a losing farmer, possessive lover, absconding employee,
philosopher who doesn’t know when to stop talking and a tissue paper for others.
To
understand all this I have to start from the place where this all begins and
give you all the important incidents that had shaped him to become suicidal.
Before that,
I will ask you all two questions.
-
Why do you want to live?
-
Why do you think a person (me) should not
suicide?
I will ask
these same questions at the end of this series of memories. Let’s see how it
goes.
I was named
mowgli, but I wanted to change my name as priyan ahktar, though I was called as
banian jatti, muradan, pappu, aandhai, aloo… all these names have a history and
that is what is now coming back to show you all the reason why I should die…
Dejavus to
begin from here…
Priyan ahktar,i call bcoz u want to b .........u r a nice person basically ......u hav put two questions 1.why do i want to liv?? i do not knw ,but iam sure dat it must hav a meaning for myself, i dont want my mom or dad or sibling or my teacher or my boss or a corporate company to liv my life ,i should liv bcoz its mine ........2. i wish u to b alive up and doing,,,bcozz u r more than wat u r .....not every man can suicide ,not every man can live crossing obstacles, harassment,and pain ,not every man can write blog on it....if u do live ,the kid within u s still dare enough,and dont kill it urself........after all being urself s heaven der s no substitute..........
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