Fiction of Love



My farm house is away from city... alone in jungle like me. It is one of the most severe monsoons on the earth tonight and in my life too. Dark clouds, storming wind, pouring rain, ear slitting cloud smashes. Barely a meter of path is visible from inside the car because of heavy rain, muddy road and foggy sight. Windshield wipers are sounding loud to remind me that I am alone... I entered my farm house, parked the car and logged in to the wooden mansion. It is dark dead inside like I am... my boots are whacking on the wooden floors. Wooden floors have its own style of juggling sound with leather boots tapping on staircase mixing with sprinkling rainfall outside. I lit up a cigarette when I reached my bedroom cum bar. Made a large peg of Mosinee Italian red malt Wine and reclined on the arm chair at the balcony. Everything in my site has got used to with the rain except me. Tree’s leafs, braches, stems are all soaked in water. Grassland is appearing like a sea lake... no birds singing, no squirrels are chuckling. Every business of this nature is halted except my cigarette’s smoke which turns wet as soon as it come out of lungs into this wet rain mixed air.

Peace never comes in peaceful places... the more you seek peace more you go away from it. When I was happy with my love in her arms, I wished time must stop still right there. Today I am left alone in this world and once again I am wishing that time must stop still as I cannot bear anything worse from this and I know the worse is still to come. Tomorrow morning will be the worst day of my life or perhaps worst day this earth will witness... I don’t want the morning to come. I don’t want the sun to rise again. This rain, this jungle, this balcony, this wine, smoke and me and nothing else I want for now. However this is not what I wanted from life... but this is all I can manage to have as of now. I was destined to face this day... a day when everyone hates me who otherwise loved me like the prince of god.

I have seen people die of hunger, debt laden man commits suicide and poor health suffering man pleads for death but I am no where among them. I was the master of fate, prince my queen mom, brave soldier of my king dad. Love, fame, glory nothings was less to my disposal... This is when life played cruellest havoc on me...

“Dreaming big is crime, doing over capacity is sin” I whispered. I know there is no one to listen to me. No one to understand me, I am deliberately here... away from everyone who wanted a few answers from me. I am perhaps by choice here where no one can find me and I can breathe last. Breathe last? I recalled Suicide I thought of it! This is how I can make the time stand still! An idea rang in my mind. This is how I can faceoff tomorrow...! I raised the determination to validate my thought. How can a man of my stature suicide? A counterview defended my life. Will I not be declared a quitter? This I never wanted to be ‘a quitter’ but considering all that happened in my life I am a loser. A loser who raised the hope of everyone he met but failed in his own battle. A loser who made many dreamers dream high, act high and die higher... A loser who will not be respected even from those whom I taught what is respect. I am liable to quit, I must quit near my bed was a maverick German pistol loaded with 10 live ammo. With my honey love Kumud I once discussed about my wishful death. I did not want to die of any disease, not by suicide nor by accident. I wanted the most useful death life can bear. I wanted my death to be meaningful but today neither my life nor my death has any significance in this world. She kissed me when I said to her that whenever I die, I must not be cremated beneath land, sailed into water or burnt on bier... I must and should be ejected into the space by wrapping my body from national flag of my country. She kissed me for being heroic for she named as Kumud ‘the flower’ the most selfless friend of humanity. From birth to death flowers are unnoticed friend of mankind. Flower is even more adorable for those who are brave. ‘Brave’ this how my father knew me. He named me Pareesh ‘a love name of a brave emperor of India in the epic of Mahbharatha Pareekshit’. I don’t how much I served to my name but yes I tried hard... today, I have no desires left to think of anything which relates to my name. I was most proud of my name once but not today. I am stigma to my own name today... I cogged up the pistol and placed it right in the middle of my two eyes at the forehead. A little push to trigger will relieve me from the pain of being abandoned, from the suffocation of being left alone, shame of being stigmatized, refused to be loved from my life kumud. One bullet will smash all that inside my skull which has turned me sleepless. One shot will set me free of everything which has tied me from last 30 years as a son, brother, lover and visionary. I recalled, I once promised kumud that I will die laughing so I stretched my lips. I looked around once again as everything around me I am seeing, I am seeing for last time. Everything will lose its sheen after pushing the trigger resting at my finger’s command. Rain has stopped, sun has set, darkness is growing... two flowers in the garden are dancing in the breeze as if are making love. One of the flowers is looking like my kumud. Shall I call her before I call my death? I developed a lust for life once again. I hate this lust... life should not be loved, it just should be lived till respect is alive. I have lost my respect in the eye of my love Kumud I must not make her life painful any more. I must die before anyone gets me here. I replaced the cogged pistol right in the middle of my two eyes. I have not closed my eyes, I wanted to see me dying, and I want to see everything that happens to a dying man for as long as I can.... I started laughing... louder... further. I am the rare man in the world witnessing that death is happier than life. I am happy I am about to end my life. I strongly ribbed my finger around the trigger. Cell phoned ranged! iin screen it says ‘Kumud calling....’

One finger can push the call button to talk to my honey another finger can push the trigger of pistol... I am laughing no more. A sense of fear logged in, I am sweating... staring at the phone! She may have some good news for me but there cannot be any good thing for me in the world. Death is the easiest escape from pain but love is the noblest thing human can have. A finger will chose love, another will chose death. For me, Prareesh, love and death both are meaningless but I have to chose one. This phone call will last 20 seconds but death is eternity...



What Should I chose?



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