An unwritten death note

“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on." - Franklin D. Roosevelt.

That was the second time I was striving to kill myself from the lively world as I took off for a walk with some purpose that gratifying evening with my mind at six and sevens. The evening under the black clouds as birds feeding their young ones and the ants on the purest soil rowing together for their survival against the uneven wind at the hill station where I resided had seen my attempts earlier too. The long dense trees making it difficult for the last rays of the sun to reach the land. I was standing there with my soul on the pavements that laid at the edge of the curvy road so that no man on the other side of the road would witness my last breath, but my mood swings were like the rainstorm on a sunny morning neither letting me die peacefully nor live happily. I was in a condition where nothing amused me in life with the lost interest and confused thoughts, I was not even sure if I wanted to live with a purpose or die with a reason. No motivation in the world was helping me to bounce back in life completely or dare-fully pushed me to death, I was struck between the shades of white and black looking at the world full of grey. The whole of my life flashed back haunting within a glimpse every time while I stepped up in the queue of counting my last moments. These flashbacks intimate about the life being unworthy to end as its purpose wasn’t unleashed yet. All these thoughts in my mind would hold me back standing at the door of death.

Between all these thoughts peaks a sound of a man singing that approached my path, all the thoughts in my mind just vanished for a while as I could hear the song louder. It was a strong deep voice that was not soothing for sure but a powerful one and yes it was from a masculine throat. There he arrived hauling his bike down the road with a long thick beard that turned grey and an imperial handlebar styled black mustache. The golden framed round glasses tugged between the buttons of his black shirt and a faux olive leather jacket covering his muscular strong body. I was a bit confused with his age between ’50s and ’60s carrying the baggage of experience from his past life on the back seat and the helmet hanging onto his bike’s handle. As he approached closer to me I could feel the vibe that he was carrying with him.

He waved his hand saying “Hello, young man would you please help me out?”

I was preparing for my answer and he interrupted again “Are you a resident of this place or just misplaced here in the woods for no reason?”

I thought of not opening up more to him and replied “Yes sir, how may I favor you?”

“My bike broke down a mile earlier and I have a long way to go, so if you are aware of any repair shop nearby that you could refer me.” He asked.

“Sure, you need to move down the hill to the town where you find a bike repair place on the other side of the bridge; he could fix your problem.”

The man with his raised eyebrows “Ohhh gosh, so it’s a long way to go. By the way, would you like to accompany me reaching the shop?”

“Sorry, I have been here to die not to accompany you,” I uttered.

You can even die after helping me out so that you may add up one more person at your funeral he pulled my leg.

As this was the second time I was attempting to commit suicide and I couldn’t have more excuses said my mind stubbornly.

“Second time?” He burst out his laugh and asked “Why don’t you hire people who can kill you without hurting you much he advised with sarcasm?”

“That’s not funny” I raged my voice.

What could be funnier in life than a man who couldn’t succeed in killing himself, you seem to be neither successful in living your life nor at ending it he continued his laugh.

I stood there confused as he pulled me saying “Let’s postpone your death to know life first.” And I was easily driven by his rush.

As we walked along the woods he started to interrogate me about the place and if I was residing here. But I was amused to see that this man who didn’t show any interest in knowing the reason for my self- harming act as many in the past those even heard about my attempts of ending life turned stubborn to know the reason and some even tried to motivate me by their words. I was unaware if the world was kind enough to ask me about my pain or cruel to make me stand in the shoes of suicide. But this man did not even bother to look interested in knowing about my reasons and this ignorant attitude of the man did seek my attention. He unknowingly tempted me to open up myself to him with some positive energy.

He started “You don’t seem to have good knowledge or experience about taking your own life, let me put it this way, Fortunately, if you fall from here yet, unfortunately, don’t die but lose your leg or other parts to get injured so that you would be in the condition of not even attempting to die again sitting on a wheelchair being a burden to the people around just waiting long years for death to knock. What do you think is better to live this way being physically independent or being in a wheelchair?”

The perspective of the gentleman made me blank with all my thoughts as that sounded scarier than death. “That could be even worse than that I have been prepared for.” I trembled

“Well, you need to ask an expert about this for executing it perfectly. And the irony is you wouldn’t find the person in the world who executed it perfectly.” He pinged my suicidal mind again.

He made me more confused with his opposite dimensional talks.

“So, do I get to learn from an expert who could suggest me the right full way to kill oneself or a suicide

survivor who could ask me not to repeat his mistake?” I asked.

“Well gentleman, that depends on the story that you carry to the cathedral of suicide and I would help you with the right person who would make it easy for your self-destruction only after knowing your past.” He gently started to sneak under my skin and I could not stop him.

All my attempts and no intentions to dig my past to an unknown person seemed to end there, as he consoled me saying“ It’s important to share the thoughts that continuously haunt our mind, no matter if you find a solution after sharing but you might feel better. Sometimes it’s strangers that would turn to take major parts in our lives and trust me your stories would be safe with me.”

Between the thoughts of helplessness and compulsion to know the perfect way of self-destruction, I opened up myself.

It’s been a month by now when I had quit my job being tired of working as a puppet. It was a good forum that hired people like me to work as improved machines with fixed timelines. Life in the cubicles was much easy and more mechanical, that’s a completely different world for the people working at the software. The first couple of years seemed to be magical as I was promoted to the higher post within less period and I fell in love with a girl who worked as my colleague at the office. Everything seemed to be

perfect, the mornings filled with energy and the weekends full of parties with the loved girl beside me at the workplace place I wouldn’t have asked for more. But as years passed I started to feel that I don’t fit well at this place as I didn’t have the energy as that of the past for the work and it didn’t even give the sense of satisfaction or happiness. Those machines around had made me so mechanical that at times I would feel being purposeless when left free without work. With so much of stress at the workplace, I could not even get time for my loved ones. After working for five long years at the forum I lost all my enthusiasm and emotions of real life. So one fine day I decided to quit my job of working as a puppet without any intimation to my parents or my girl love, but by then I had even lost the bad salary that kept me going. Even the girl I was in love with for four years left me for this reason and my parents started to hate me like never before and I wasn’t planned for the next phase of life after resigning from work.

Life wasn’t interesting anymore, I didn’t feel like to work or perform anything rather I just spent all my days in my room lazing around. My mind rejecting to accept all sorts of advice from the known faces and all those who cared seemed to be irritating to me by then. I was a burden to my parents and felt more boring and undirected in life. Every time I shared my traumatic story with my close ones all they considered was not to take this matter seriously and talking about mental health isn’t common around the globe even these days. This was the time where I found no reasons to live and felt like nothing would be

affected to the world and my family after my death as well. Finally, I decided to end my life as I poisoned myself at the first attempt. Unfortunately, the poison wasn’t determined to its purpose alike me with my life and after a while, I slumped on the floor half-consciously like a fish out of water with immense pain that I couldn’t resist. The next moment I opened my eyes I was on a bed in a hospital with Nasal cannula placed in my nostrils and a string of pipes connected to my body that performed different tasks to serve my purpose. It took me a couple of weeks to get back to normal life and my parents started to care for me more as they hardly left me alone. This went on for months as my family couldn’t hold on with me for a long time they offered some lenience to have my private space and started to let me free for more time. Yet I still couldn’t find any reasons to live and the thoughts of a suicidal mind were strong enough to take me for the next attempt.

“Sorry to interrupt but I couldn’t ask you your name before your story. What do I call you young man?” he showed some interest.

“Well, you can remember me as Arjun. But today I curse you for distracting my mind for the postponement of my suicide.” I raged at him.

“If curses hardly worked I would curse you to live life.” He laughed as we reached down the bridge.

He parked his bike at the garage and informs the mechanic about the problem as I would be unknowing waiting for him.

He came back and questioned “You haven’t still gone? I just asked you to accompany me to the repairer’s place, isn’t your death waiting for you?”

I turned back in angry and as I scurried he stopped me again “Hey, Arjun I was just kidding. However, I will have to wait for some time till my bike is good to go. So would you please take me to some good place around?”

Sorry sir it was enough of the journey and I hope you see me soon at my funeral.

My mood for suicide was scattered again so I barreled towards a cafe on the other side of the street which had been my lonely place for the last month.

This was a place filled with people of unique ideas, unusual thoughts, dissimilar interests, and different perspectives. The cafe had waitresses who walk with long bare legs covering half of their body sketched by tattoos and the rest with a skimpy mini skirt the tightest cool top made of killer strips and other designs. Their face caked in an inch of thick makeup and messy hair above. Lips painted with redone and the eyes tired with dark circles lined underneath. The sound of high heels clack against the ground and the wicked attitude took all the attention around. The best part of this cafe was that all the workers at this place were transgender and all of them were been thrown out of their families and society. They seem to have had tolerated more than their ability to be suppressed by society finding no jobs or works to even

feed themselves for a day. At every extreme of suppression there bursts up an eruption, so did this happen as they created their separate society, an independent job for their well-being. Each one of them seemed to be passionate about life, talented in different ways, and happily ever after. These superhumans served free food for the poor ones that visited their place as they knew the pain of hunger better and didn’t even charge people like me who occupied the chairs and left without ordering any food. Maybe this was the reason that brought me regularly to this place.

As soon as I comforted myself settling down at the corner of the lounge which was my regular place the man followed me to accompany without any indication or permission.

“Here we meet again young man. This is Grahil.” He settled down at the mirroring chair on my table.

I was annoyed by now for his sticky behavior and asked him if something of mine was bothering him. He investigated if I had left any death note for the world and my parents for reasons to make. And I had no reply to this.

He smiled to say “An unwritten death note means its life without happiness and death without confidence. It’s so saddening that most of the suicidal do not want so much to die as to stop living, a strange dichotomy, but a valid one nevertheless. If there exists an in-between state, some other alternative to death that would fall between death and stop living I suspect many suicidal people would opt for it.”

He was being both irritating and even sensible with his deep knowledge of life at the same time.

“How would you be so appropriate at making sense just after the moment I feel disinterested with your talks?” I asked him.

“What if I would get you to meet the expert that you were looking for who attempted thrice to end life by himself. But every time he failed to kill himself he was taught the most important lessons of life.”

I was shockingly surprised hearing that and asked him “The person who was victorious against death? And please, don’t tell me that’s you.”

Grahil replied laughing “Surely it’s not me but one of my best friends, probably he did not win death but surely he seemed to have mastered life.”

Eagerly I asked, “When do I meet this life mastered man?”

“For that, you need to listen to his story first.” Solivagant sipped his coffee intending to tape a tale of his pal.

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