RENDEZVOUS
The learned judge solemnly pronounced his ruling:
“..whereas the said accused has been found guilty of attempt to commit suicide, I hereby ..award a punishment with simple imprisonment for a term extending to one year...and whereas the said accused has been found guilty of similar attempts in the past, I hereby direct that the accused..be admitted into a mental hospital..
“Have you anything to say?” he condescended to ask me.
“My lord, may i humbly beg to have my sentence commuted to death-penalty?”
My innocent prayer caused a commotion in the courtroom. The staid judge hammered in order, and declared the case closed.
The staid judge hammering in order, reminded me of my father, my teachers, my doctor, my tax-consultant, the priest, the market, the moral-police - everyone and everything puissant and sacrosanct, and evoked an instinctive hatred in my mind.
My relationship with all authority had been sort of maso-sadistic. I derived great pleasure from offending the authority, and when it retaliated, i avenged by destroying all that expressed the sublime and humane in me- my paintings, my poems, the flowers in my garden; i smoked, got drunk, ate junk, watched porn ad nauseam; i exploited, and i abused.
The law was indifferent when i ruined my art, my health, my kindness, my soul, my real self; it was only when i tried to throw away the mortal frame, that it took any cognizance.
My first attempt was to lie on the rail track, awaiting the first train. The train derailed a couple of miles from where i lay, killing scores of passengers, and left me untouched.
Do you remember the severe earthquake that rocked the western part of the country a few years ago? We in this city also felt mild tremors, didn’t we? Well, that day, at those wee hours, i was busy hanging myself from the ceiling fan. I almost did it; i had climbed up a stool, and was about to put the noose around my neck, precisely when the tremors toppled me from the stool. Hundreds of innocent people were killed by the quake, thousands maimed for life, and all i could manage was a sprained ankle, and a broken collar bone. My family hushed up the matter.
Next, i gulped handful of sleeping pills. Before the poison could act, i developed severe allergy, sending me screaming from intolerable itching. Good Samaritans rushed me to hospital and foiled my rendezvous with my beloved. Better Samaritans reported the matter to the police.
With such a life, no irony is ironical enough. Seeking meaning in it, was like looking for a ten-lettered word, the initial six letters of which i didn’t remember, in a dictionary teeming with typos.
The learned judge sent me to the best mental asylum, under care of a learned doc, who got a bit too much involved in me. He committed suicide a few weeks later. A lot of gossip buzzed around. Most of the inmates were too self-intoxicated to register anything. Others called him mad, coward, or a sinner. I only empathized with him; even docs are human beings, free to fall sick, live, or to die at will. I also envied his successful attempt.
No news ever touched me; however, i couldn’t sleep that night. Past midnight, i unbolted the door.
Walking along the empty ill-lit corridors felt as if floating through fog. My steps echoed in the silent void.
And lo! There, at the far end beheld i my beloved, in his most beautiful and fluid form, shimmering in the misty light.
As i approached him with hastened eager pace, he stood up, as if in greeting, swaying his hood, flickering his forked tongue, his body coiling and uncoiling in a mesmerizing rhythm.
I bent onto him. ”O death, come on. Kiss me, o my beloved!”
Here was the fulfillment of our rendezvous..i felt myself sublimating beyond space and time.
Then appeared an angel in white spotless attire, and touched my shoulder..but why should the angel have an aura of burned tobacco around him? The angel shook me out of my trance, and carried me unceremoniously back to the ward.
Later, the learned, and the about-to-be-learned surrounded me, engaged in serious discussion. That night i learnt two words about myself: somnambulism, and hallucination.
I absconded that night.
Next day i appeared before my family, and shocked them. The prudent folks reported to the police; i too didn’t mean contempt of the court order.
A year later, once again i am a respectable (whatever that may mean) member of the family, the profession, and the society; i walk through all these like a somnambulist. That’s ok as long as i am a useful cog in the utilitarian social machinery.
They also say, i am a creative artist and writer; to me, creativity is all about following your hallucinations faithfully.
Since then, i have not attempted suicide any more..well, so far.