Mr Mehta picked up two crimson apples, polished so well
that they shined under the light of setting sun. The sky, above him, was
inundated with soothing amber and mauve. A cool breeze was caressing his hairs.
He felt the same amount of serenity and tranquility insinuating his
conscience. He asked the fruit vendor, for the price of apples and paid the
amount to him without bargaining for a few rupees. For the first time, in
years, he felt contended with life. He chose not to take a rickshaw home like
everyday. But today it was not to save the extra money, but to enjoy the walk
home. There were no regrets of the past and fears of the future. A very subtle
feeling of happiness flowed inside his heart. He kept on smiling while looking
at the people and their love for each other while they talked or walked hands
in hands. Arrival of a new goon as a political leader was a hot topic discussed
among the elders. For him, there were no expectations about future. “All this
time I was wasting my time and energy on all these things; these stupid
ideologies, verbal brawls and intellectual masturbation”, he contemplated. How
feeble and futile these things seemed to him today. Looking at the innocent
faces of kids, glowing under the streetlight, while they played, brought a smile
on his face. “How ignorance can prove to be a pure bliss sometimes”, he thought.
After reaching home, he turned on the television, and put his favourite movie on. It took him to the memories of his past, when he used to sit and enjoy his evenings with his wife, and release all the tiredness of the day. He took out a pen and a paper from his bag and wrote a letter to his wife; something he wanted to do since long but could not gather enough strength. His heart was flooded with immense grief and he started crying profusely. With trembling hands, he finished his letter, folded it and put it aside. The pain evaporated swiftly and he was calm once again. It did not matter how she would react to that letter or if she is going to believe him or not.
His concentration shifted back to the movie. He ordered his favorite cuisine from one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Money was not a problem anymore. He stuffed himself in his cozy sofa, picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a few seconds, a sharp voice said “Hello”.
It was overwhelming for him to talk with his best friend after a long time. He felt a sudden conflict of emotions while he talked. They both talked for hours, about college and old memories; how their lives turned and things changed. His friend asked if they could meet up sometime but Mehta told him that he was getting transferred to a different location for some work. They ended the conversation with gentle smiles on their faces and promises of staying in touch. He went back to his ruminations, thinking how precious these memories of the times spent with his friends are. How he had obliviously annexed so many things to cherish and be thankful for.
He was grateful for all the things and all those people, he never realized were an important part of his life. Suddenly, he felt appreciative about little gestures and acts of affection people had bestowed upon him in time. He yearned for a single chance to just thank them and tell them how special they are to him.
Love, life, friendship, they all seemed so meaningless at this point of time. It all seized to make any sense. They were not the things to be understood. It was something which sprouted in the soul and grew without any control. Hatred, jealousy, anger never affected the other person. It was affecting him in the worst manner. It was peculiar to know that people always saw him or perceived him, the way they wanted to or the way they could. Perhaps, nobody ever saw him or regarded him in a way in which he thought he deserved. It was an eerie feeling to know that nobody ever understood him perfectly the way he was and how he wasted enormous time in impressing others, trying to achieve a formidable task.
The doorbell rang and he was snapped out of his ruminations with a jerk. He shrugged and stood up. It was as if all the strength was sucked out of his knees and the whole weight of his body was transferred to his head. He reached the door, bobbing and wobbling. A boy in his teens was standing at the door, carrying a permanently painted smile on his face. He paid for the food and went back to his sofa, carefully locking the door.
The food smelt like heaven but his appetite had come to a naught because of the weariness. “Eating a lot was not a good option before going on a long journey” he said to himself and giggles. He put the food aside and took out the apples he had purchased on his way home.
He brought the sharpest knife from kitchen and very slowly and gently cut the apples into small pieces. With the same attention, he picked up the pieces and put them in his mouth, one by one. Carefully observing and enjoying the savory taste of the fruit, in order to calm down and relax his mind again.
He then sat down with the knife in his right hand and his left hand stretched out, resting on his left thigh. His head hung low and heart beating faster than ever. A series of events from his past kept flashing in his mind. He gasped, blew out with force. He then looked up, closed his eyes and cut himself swiftly. Blood poured out of his left wrist. His eyes were blinded and he fell back on the couch. The journey, for which he was preparing himself, began.
It took a lot of courage for him to become a coward.
A note was found in his pocket, soaked in blood. It read, “I am not quitting, neither have I lost the will to persevere. I just believe that I have done all I could wish to do in life, I don’t need no more. I chose death over life, happily and peacefully.”
After reaching home, he turned on the television, and put his favourite movie on. It took him to the memories of his past, when he used to sit and enjoy his evenings with his wife, and release all the tiredness of the day. He took out a pen and a paper from his bag and wrote a letter to his wife; something he wanted to do since long but could not gather enough strength. His heart was flooded with immense grief and he started crying profusely. With trembling hands, he finished his letter, folded it and put it aside. The pain evaporated swiftly and he was calm once again. It did not matter how she would react to that letter or if she is going to believe him or not.
His concentration shifted back to the movie. He ordered his favorite cuisine from one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Money was not a problem anymore. He stuffed himself in his cozy sofa, picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a few seconds, a sharp voice said “Hello”.
It was overwhelming for him to talk with his best friend after a long time. He felt a sudden conflict of emotions while he talked. They both talked for hours, about college and old memories; how their lives turned and things changed. His friend asked if they could meet up sometime but Mehta told him that he was getting transferred to a different location for some work. They ended the conversation with gentle smiles on their faces and promises of staying in touch. He went back to his ruminations, thinking how precious these memories of the times spent with his friends are. How he had obliviously annexed so many things to cherish and be thankful for.
He was grateful for all the things and all those people, he never realized were an important part of his life. Suddenly, he felt appreciative about little gestures and acts of affection people had bestowed upon him in time. He yearned for a single chance to just thank them and tell them how special they are to him.
Love, life, friendship, they all seemed so meaningless at this point of time. It all seized to make any sense. They were not the things to be understood. It was something which sprouted in the soul and grew without any control. Hatred, jealousy, anger never affected the other person. It was affecting him in the worst manner. It was peculiar to know that people always saw him or perceived him, the way they wanted to or the way they could. Perhaps, nobody ever saw him or regarded him in a way in which he thought he deserved. It was an eerie feeling to know that nobody ever understood him perfectly the way he was and how he wasted enormous time in impressing others, trying to achieve a formidable task.
The doorbell rang and he was snapped out of his ruminations with a jerk. He shrugged and stood up. It was as if all the strength was sucked out of his knees and the whole weight of his body was transferred to his head. He reached the door, bobbing and wobbling. A boy in his teens was standing at the door, carrying a permanently painted smile on his face. He paid for the food and went back to his sofa, carefully locking the door.
The food smelt like heaven but his appetite had come to a naught because of the weariness. “Eating a lot was not a good option before going on a long journey” he said to himself and giggles. He put the food aside and took out the apples he had purchased on his way home.
He brought the sharpest knife from kitchen and very slowly and gently cut the apples into small pieces. With the same attention, he picked up the pieces and put them in his mouth, one by one. Carefully observing and enjoying the savory taste of the fruit, in order to calm down and relax his mind again.
He then sat down with the knife in his right hand and his left hand stretched out, resting on his left thigh. His head hung low and heart beating faster than ever. A series of events from his past kept flashing in his mind. He gasped, blew out with force. He then looked up, closed his eyes and cut himself swiftly. Blood poured out of his left wrist. His eyes were blinded and he fell back on the couch. The journey, for which he was preparing himself, began.
It took a lot of courage for him to become a coward.
A note was found in his pocket, soaked in blood. It read, “I am not quitting, neither have I lost the will to persevere. I just believe that I have done all I could wish to do in life, I don’t need no more. I chose death over life, happily and peacefully.”
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