Without any more delay, here we go:
Crisp Mumbai evening.
He boarded the local train with commuters; but there was a difference between him and the other passengers. They were all eager to get home after a long day at work but for him, he knew this was going to be his last train ride.
He described his life as one big disappointment. He always knew he was destined for greatness, but life intervened at about the tender age of eighteen. He dropped out of college to support his ailing parents, to repay debts and take over the responsibility of his younger siblings.
That was twenty years ago.
He had stopped dreaming. He was a smart, intelligent and ambitious man, now struggling to make ends meet. He was stuck in a loveless marriage and he cannot remember the last time he really laughed. Life was dull, claustrophobic and he was going to relieve himself.
He did not bother with a suicide note, it cannot possibly convey why he was taking such a drastic step. How can a paper provide any kind of solace to the family he was leaving behind?
No. He did not want his life and his death to end up as a piece of paper. He wished oblivion. No one would know how he felt in those last, frantic moments. He wanted privacy; nobody should know what was going on in his mind. He had lived this way and he preferred to die this way.
He stood at the door of the train and watched the sun set; his hair flew with the wind as the train caught speed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and braced himself to take the leap, to let go the pain. Suddenly he heard a loud bang and the world changed forever.
He opened his eyes and saw that there was blood everywhere. Smoke was everywhere and he could hear people crying in pain. People who were next to him on the train were severed, blown away into bits.
He heard a woman’s cry in his vicinity and tried to get up, but he could not. He looked down and saw his bloody legs. His mind suddenly registered the pain from his legs, pain beyond his endurance. Help took ten minutes to arrive; those were the hardest ten minutes of his life. He was in a lot of pain but he was conscious, aware of his surroundings. There were times when he wished he would pass out just so that he did not have to see the gruesome scene. The only thing he could think of in those moments of agony was that why them and not me?
He forced himself to die; he wanted to die!
He must have lost consciousness at some point because when he woke, he was in a bed at a government hospital surrounded by other “lucky” passengers who had made it. His wife and ten-year-old son rushed into the room. The relief his family had on seeing him there, alive and well was something he would never forget. They both gave him a big hug and spoke about how thankful they were that the horrible bomb blast had not taken him away from them. They did not know that the bomb blast had actually saved his life.
Later that day he scanned the room and looked at the other patients. They were shook up; of course, some had broken limbs and burns. However, they had gratitude in their eyes. Life had thrown a curveball at them but they were positive, it would all be fine. They knew they were lucky they survived. Seeing the distraught looks on the faces of people who had lost family members, he had an epiphany.
After that day, he knew that he had to hang on, take whatever life has to offer and live for the people in his life. Moreover, after that day, he really lived. His life had finally begun.
Your life is not just your own. Human lives are interwoven. Everything you do, every choice you make, has a direct effect on everybody around you. One cannot live in a selfish manner as he lives in a society, with several different people. We think about suicide because we think it will relieve us of the pain we feel when in reality we are just transferring our suffering on to people who love us. With every death, a hole is formed that may never fill. With every death, there are several lives that are disrupted and with every death a tiny part of several people, dies.
My sincere thanks to ‘Stressed Mess’ for doing this and I hope that I did justice to her piece.
PS: I am still calling more guest bloggers, any one interested can contact me at: firstname.lastname@example.org