|Word count: 660|Estimated time for reading blog: 6 minutes|
I am standing on the terrace of a multi-storey building. The wind is blowing in my ears. As I come to the edge of the terrace, the wind gets stronger. It is perhaps nature’s way of dissuading me from taking the next few fatal steps.
Now, perched on the tip I look up at the sky one last time and lift my arms. And then I take the last step. The world whizzes past me as I dive to my death. Death is instantaneous.
My parents are mourning over my shroud-covered body. I take a step backwards and think. Mom is inconsolable. I look down at the tarmac and feel dizzy. The flowers are sprinkled and the wreath is placed on my body by a grief-stricken father. I decide to give myself more time before taking the plunge. Relatives and friends lift the coffin on to their shoulders for the final march. I take the lift down and reach the ground floor. The trumpets are bleating shrilly in my funeral procession. The din of traffic as I drive back is deafening.
They reach the cemetery. I arrive home. The coffin is being nailed. I lock myself in my room away from everyone. Nail one in place. I decide to confront dad and confess. The priest is chanting the funereal verses. Father slaps me and hurls abuses. Nail two in place. I am climbing down the steps of the court, having divorced my wife. Nail three in place. I walk out of my office with a pink slip in hand. Nail four in place. I am beaten and thrashed by recovery agents for defaulting the loan and my car is taken away.
The coffin is lowered into my grave. My father forgives me and praises me for owning up. The coffin now rests on the floor of my grave – where I will continue to remain for a long, long time. I find the lady of my life with whom, I know, I will remain for a long, long time. Relatives start filling up my grave with handfuls of soil. I start my own business and am on the path to progress. My grave is now covered and the final rites are over. I drive over to the bank in my BMW, briefcase in hand.
On my way back, I park my BMW outside the cemetery and enter. I am now standing in front of my grave and reading the eulogies on my tombstone. I kneel down and bend over the cold concrete of my grave. The unpleasant memories that drove me to suicide flood my mind in vivid detail. The sun is hidden by a blanket of clouds and darkness begins to crawl in like water seeping into a sinking ship. I begin to weep over my grave as a gust of wind picks up in the distance and rattles across an otherwise silent graveyard. I am bending over the grave so much that it looks like I am almost falling into it. I determinedly regain composure, wipe my tears and stand up, stepping away from the grave.
The clouds suddenly clear away and light floods in. The wind stops blowing and the leaves in the trees are still again. The tombstone vanishes before my eyes and eventually my entire grave is invisible. I look around and the graveyard spins and vanishes. I shake my head in disbelief and blink my eyes.
I am standing on the terrace of the multi-storey building. The wind is blowing in my ears. As I come to the edge of the terrace, the wind gets stronger. It is perhaps nature’s way of dissuading me from taking the next few fatal steps.
Now, perched on the tip I look up at the sky and lift my arms. And then I retrace my steps. I take the lift down and reach the ground floor and walk out a happy man. I chose life.
My dear readers, lest you decide you mistook;
I declare this story warrants a different outlook.
A clue is left hidden somewhere in this blog;
Obscured by an abundance of wordy fog.
And the first mortal who comments the exact phrase;
On this very blog will receive a line of praise!