This could probably be the most humiliating experiences I've ever went through, I'd ever go through for the rest of my life. I've endured failures on so many occasions, under so many circumstances. But this one will come with me to my grave. What do we speak of a man, so unlucky that death himself do not want? An easy willing soul to depart, yet, refused passage, what do we speak of him?
After a few recent occurance and conversations, I thought to myself that this is the end, this should be. Today felt nice, so I made the necessary arrangements. I wrote down my password and stuffs on a paper and placed in hidden in my phone case. In which, I've mentioned just a few light hearted instructions, nothing too progressive or revolutionary. 1) Once money from Rafah event gets deposited, it should be given to Faazila. 2) The rest of the money should be utilised for establishing a space (it's one of my dream works, alongside many which will die a quick death) 3) Briyani for everyone who visits the funeral, so people can atleast eat happily. 4) The money, if not for the space, should be used to do some good, like to pay someone's exam fees. 5) Nobody should pin point on anyone for my death. I really don't want any drama.
Having written all these, I was calm and I was humming "For No One" from beatles, and i was looking for ropes. I only had a clothesline, but the size didn't match. it was really anticlimactic and it all started there. unlike what people say, suicide is fine, it felt just like ironing clothes or washing utensils. it felt like a routine. I just sang a few songs, i posted something cryptic and I went to kill myself. i emptied my bladder and stuffs. i kept my bed aside, so my excretion (if any, leaks) shouldn't disturb. I did it all clear, and now it was time to select a saree.
luckily my mother doesn't drape saree much, so there were only few, i picked one blue colour, lol, not because of any political symbolisms but it was cotton. nylon or silk might cut the throat open, i don't want blood gushing out, who will clean them. we don't have workers at home to look after such chores. so, i just wanted to keep it neat and tidy, so i found a polyethylene bag.
i know how to make the knot, but I had to try a couple of times to remember it. It came out well, so with a noose around my neck, i stood on a chair. it was calm, the night hours, no horn honking, no pollution. I really was in my comfortable space, sweating. i just did everything fast and i just jumped.
I really can't remember anything after that, maybe that was death? it was silent, there was nothing but bright light. after a few hours, when the night was about to end, i woke up, alive. it was when the real shocker came. i looked up, and I've bent the fan blade. I've damaged the fan and I'm alive, my death would have been better. I botched not just my life, but the plot for my death as well. it was easy, i just want to jump, break my neck and spinal cord, die away. but I can't even do that.
now I sat up straight, with an injured neck, strain on my skin and I'm trying to re-bend the fan. Also, i don't want my family to notice. the neck still hurts. I somehow managed to fix the fan, it works. I don't know really
I took the leap of faith and i botched. At this point, i feel maybe it's a reminder that some deaths need to be gory and worse, where one struggles to die, with conviction and perseverance. maybe I deserve one such? but what were my sins, what were my mistake? I know. Maybe that's why it feels right? maybe.
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