TO BE OR NOT TO BE...

“I climbed the stairs to the terrace absent mindedly. As I pushed the door open, I felt a huge gush of wind brush my face, entangling my already messy hair. I took tiny steps as I headed for the edge of the terrace. The clouds appeared gloomy to me for some unknown reason, and I found myself staring at the nothingness, with a hope that the clouds would share their tears with me. The setting sun, hidden behind the clouds, for some yet another unknown reason, appeared to me as my setting life, whose many chapters were hidden within myself, unknown to the world and some even unknown to me. My feet touched a dead end and I stopped walking, I stared at my feet brushing the white walls, and suddenly I felt a need to run, with absolutely no idea where I was headed to, I just felt like running, fast and to some place far away. I felt some tingling effect in my feet, stomping my feet twice on the ground, I realised how drained out I was. And now just the idea of running appeared to be tiresome to me and I wanted to go into a never-ending trance of sleep. I brushed aside both these thoughts from my already crowded and scattered head. I climbed the wall, with nothingness and blankness taking control of my body. As I steadied my feet and gently stood up, for the first time in forever, I felt at peace as my black eyes witnessed the best sunset ever, as my curved nose inhaled the earthy smell, as my ears heard the whistling of the wind, as my lips curved into a smile and as the wind made my hair cover my forehead. For a second, I felt elated and over the moon. The sudden chaotic chirping of the birds broke my trance, and I started rattling my head, wondering what I was doing on the terrace. A black and white image appeared in front of me, where I saw myself lying motionless on the ground, clutching my favourite doll; I heard my mother shrieking and crying out my name; I saw my father shedding sad, hurt and broken tears and; I saw my brother aimlessly looking for a safe place to go to and shout and cry. Blinking my eyes, I was brought back  to reality, and I remembered why I had come to the terrace, to end a story which had now become a burden not just for everybody but maybe for myself too. I took a long breath, to slow down my breathing which had now become fast and short. I inhaled the fresh air as my fingers wiped the tears which had very silently made themselves comfortable over my face. Once my breathing was almost back to normal, I started blinking my eyes, slowly at first and then rapidly, as if trying to find answers for the last time now. I knew I had to end the story, I knew how to close the book forever too, but I was trying to figure out which chapter or which chapters were making me do so. A mini Black and white movie started playing in front of my head, where I saw myself in the mirror, staring at my body, analysing it. The swollen eyes, the dark circles peeping out from behind the puffy eyes, a runny nose, dried out lips, broad shoulders, a not so flat tummy, huge thighs and a not so tall girl stared out of the mirror at me. My hands touched the mirror, as if trying to touch the girl, and all my hands could feel was broken and scarred pieces. The scene of the movie changed, and I found myself at school, sitting in the classroom with a friend, talking about something very random. I heard my name being called out loud, and instinctively felt myself standing up, startled and lost. The teacher asked me a question and the terms appeared alien to me. I stared at the teacher as if she was speaking some foreign language and of course, I was asked to leave the class for not being attentive. I walked the proud walk out the door and stood leaning at the wall staring at the brick walls. I could feel myself going inside my head where I felt like a faker, a pretentious crocodile and a loser. I could hear all those people calling me names, being nice to me on my face and mocking me behind my back, and just the chaotic chatter which made me go numb. I kicked myself for being silly again and realised my shoes had directly hit my bruise. I cried out an ouch with my hands cupped over my mouth. The pain for some reason felt good and I could feel myself again going crazy. The scene changed yet another time, and I saw myself at home, indulged in yet another fight with my parents for some petty reason again. I saw myself wrestling with my brother, both thirsty for blood and ending up getting hurt. Hundreds of scenes came and went, of me involved in yet another fight, of being taken for granted, of being alone, of being judged, of failing, of being cheated on, of being shamed, of struggling, guilty of hundreds of things and even though I could see them all, I was unable to understand or feel them. I was brought back to reality and I couldn’t breathe. I felt alone and I felt hurt. And to be honest, I was tired of hurting alone, of always being at fault, of hurting the people I love, of failing at the simplest of things, of being eaten by the monster of guilt, of living a fake life and of life being unfair to me. I thought to myself one more unfair act to myself wouldn't make any difference, and I felt my right foot almost lifting itself up, readying for a jump...when my mind went blank, and 'To jump, or not to jump...' flashed over again and again in my head.”

“So, did you want to jump, or had that thought even once?”

“Actually, it may sound stupid, but I wanted to jump for a minute, as I wanted to know if at all anybody’s life would change and if it would then how. I wanted to see who were the people who really cared for me, who really loved me. I wanted to attend my own funeral. I know you must think how sick or out of my mind I was.”

“To be honest, I don’t think you are sick or stupid. But I would like to know, that if you wanted to jump, then what stopped you?”

“I don’t know. As I felt my right foot hanging in air, a sudden image flashed in my head, My family. My mother took nine months to form my heart, my brain and my body; and there I was going to break it all in merely nine seconds. My father sacrificed his wants and needs, his dreams and his time to let me live a life I deserved best; and there I was going to disrespect his sacrifice and kick the life he struggled hard to give me. My brother looked up to me, followed everything I thought was best for him, trusted me more than he trusted himself and there I was going to set a wrong example in front of him. My best friend who had helped me each time, listened to the same shit hundreds of times, helped me get up, and there I was going to be the bad friend she never deserved, proving I had taken her for granted. What ifs cluttered my head…what if my brother thinks what I did was right and takes the same step? What if my father is unable to take the shock and gets punished for something I did? What if my mother goes into depression and no medications are able to help her? The ifs and buts scared me, even more than death did. When I look back today and think, I guess I was scared and maybe to some extent I still am.”

“So, your head was battling within itself to come to a conclusion. Tell me, what are you most afraid of?”

“My own head, it’s the scariest thing ever. It’s a very dangerous place to live in, as it keeps reminding me the things I want to forget, and makes me forget things I would like to cherish forever. But you know what scares me even more, the idea of dying everyday. The idea of dying everyday a little had started haunting me so much that for a moment I thought that maybe death was the answer out of this suffering.”

“Dying everyday? What does that mean?”

“Dying is not when you leave your mortal body and depart for the outer space. Dying is not when you get epitaphs engraved or when people mourn losing your physical presence. Dying is not that easy- ‘Forever Gone’…Dying is that complicated process which takes place each day. Everyone dies a little daily, without anybody knowing, and surprisingly at times, without them knowing too. One dies a little when they are dejected. One dies a little when people they are attached to leave. One dies a little when they have so much to speak, but no words help. One dies a little when people ‘use and throw’ them. One dies a little remembering the ‘happier times’. One dies a little every time they are reminded, they are not enough. One dies a little when they are not valued. One dies a little when they are bullied about their bodies, work or simply when a victim of ‘fun bullying’. One dies a little when they are punished for someone else’s actions. One dies a little when somebody else takes the credit of their work. One dies a little when in this robotic age, people forget humanity. One dies a little…the list is endless. Small things can make one happy, the same way, small things can scar one’s heart forever. People are forced to wear masks to hide ‘death’ and when they formally die, the mask degrades with their bodies as well…and forever it’s a mystery, what really killed them…and I didn’t want to be such a mystery”

“So, have you defeated this fear of yours now?”

“I would be very honest, I haven’t. I am trying and I am progressing but I still haven’t reached there. Infact there is another fear that stops me. The fear of the unknown, what if the other side of the horizon has something I am not prepared for? What if all the theories of Karma and life after death are true? What if I have to come back to face the same everything but with more intensity? What if there is nobody to help me, hold me or guide me wherever I am taken to? No running away was not the answer, it never is! I am STRONG to deal with everything that is thrown my way, and I would rather count my many blessings rather than writh in some pain which maybe exists just in my head and has no actual reality of its own.”

“That’s a very strong step and a very strong thought. I see small steps each day to accomplish the larger goal. If you don’t mind, I still am not very clear if your family and friends were the only reason you stopped, I feel there’s more…if you could maybe think for a while and then answer.”

“That’s the deal, “Chotte chotte kadam…! Umm…yes. I remembered my mother once telling me how according to her suicide was cowardly and selfish, how it spoiled lives, how nobody ever understood what the person wanted to convey, and weaved stories according to their convenience to bury the dead forever. And when I thought about it, I didn’t want to be remembered as the girl who couldn’t fight, who gave up, and who simply was a coward. Since childhood, strength and pride have mattered to me a lot, in whatever way they can come. And I thought that if I jumped, then a beautiful story would not just come to an end, but I would also lose my power to change the world, to become a voice, to dream and fulfill those dreams; I thought that I would lose the respect, and all I would get would be sad sympathetic looks. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want people to fake sympathise over social media. I wanted to lead a respectful life, fulfill my dreams, one at a time and make my parents and myself proud. And when I thought so, I felt a new confidence, a new kind of strength growing inside me and I knew what I wanted…”

“Then what exactly do you want now, apart from fulfilling your dreams and living a crazy happy life?”

“Instead of dying and meeting the grave and finally merging with the soil, which one has to anyway, fun is actually in breaking the shackles, the wrong belief system of people which is hampering growth, going an extra mile, making an extra effort and defying the rules to soar high in the sky like an eagle with eyes glued to the earth. And I want to have fun. I want to be connected to the roots and find a sky for myself at the same time or rest on the top most branch of the tallest tree and watch the sky and the earth, and let the will and wish of this eagle decide the next flight.”