Skip to main content

The Suicide



The knife plunged into the depths of my chest; it twisted in one complete three sixty degree rotation and remained stationary, though indefinitely. All the blood got directed towards the knife creating an insurmountable pressure; my chest was going to explode. The nerves around the wound cracked with the increasing pressure; ironically, elsewhere the nerves shrunk due to immediate dryness or maybe I just felt so.

From crimson to dark, then turning into an ugly shade of maroon the blood was gushing fearlessly out of me leaving me alone; it was ‘my blood’ and now it was leaving me as if it wanted to free itself from a sinful being as me or maybe I just felt so.

But at this thought, I felt happy for my blood for it had finally achieved freedom. And here I was marooned upside-down with myself. I could realize that every part of me was evacuating me in a hurry to be liberated, I could sense their joy of getting alienated from me and rightly so, for I was a sinful being or maybe I thought so.

My vision was travelling fast into a spectrum of darkness, my audible prowess was diminishing into nothingness, my physicality was declining alarmingly and all this to relieve myself from myself, or maybe because I just thought so.

And for one final time, gathering all strength, the knife took another circle and I finally knew that the proceedings of ultimate relaxation were finally completed, or maybe I just thought so… because I don’t know why, somehow this world was nothing but a train always ready to run over me.

-

2016


Popular posts from this blog

Flyover

"316" written in a yellow box on this pillar. The pillar is of no use to public, so why was it made? Or was it really made for us? No... I don't think so. The government can't be so generous to anybody. I wonder where has all that money gone - Those crores wasted on this flyover. But this wastage has eventually given me my house. A blue plastic sheet covering my body against the rain. I don't think this is effective at all. But do I even have options?  It was better in the village. I had home there. But here, I have no home, no shelter. Nobody. Nobody to be with me and my emotional turmoil. Looking at her father sitting on a dirty mat and staring blankly at the pillar. M y daughter, what does she think of me? Is she still proud of me? By the way, I am proud of her because she is here for me when I need someone the most. Her presence is enough to pass the remaining life blissfully. But even she looks tired: I can see blackness under her eyes - maybe becau...

I was lost

Though I was there but I wasn’t; though I was laughing but I wasn’t; though I could hear you talking about your grievances but I couldn’t; though I was watching a video with you but I wasn’t; though you demanded my full attention but I couldn’t, and though you thought I was happy living alone but unfortunately I wasn’t.  I let time fly by like an unnerving entity; I let myself indulge in acts which hampered my dignity; I cried for reasons where I could’ve avoided it; I sat in silence but with peace devoid of it; I felt creativity pushing its pistons on me and I found myself running far away from me. I embraced laziness as if it were my only love; I slipped past as its slave into its dirty gloves; I regretted my current slavery yet I was helpless; I didn’t feel like repelling as I loved its ominous calmness;  I failed to understand whether it was a boon or a bane but deep down I knew, wasting this time would later give me much pain. - 2016

Call me deranged

How do people talk about Death? feel it like a with a gun-shot in their ears? or like, being pushed in front of a speeding train, getting crushed under it at the base of the platform? or like, embracing the front of a car with a loud thud? at the moment they see themselves dying? ... .... they at least do this: feel a knife creep into their heart? no! yeah, no. what only I feel about Death. can they pinch in the chest do they gasp ok, I think no? how can they! because that's - 2018