The Cut that never was....

On the day, I was to leave my college, V.N.I.T...while packing up my luggage, I found a few crumbled pages in a shelf... I had to remove a lot of cobwebs and really strain my eyes to make out what was written... The shaky handwriting indicated a strong influence of alcohol, almost 5 - 6 pegs... and my memory and the handwriting prevent me from claiming this article to be my own.......

I woke up. I brushed my teeth. I had my breakfast. I went to the loo. I took a bath. Iwas five minutes late. I raced my cycle to the department. I was embarassed to be late. I made a mental note to be on time for the lectures from tomorrow. But, Halo! Wait. Today is my last day in this college...This is my last day in this world...
I am sitting on the last bench, I have a blade in my left hand. I make a deep cut in my right wrist, I am a lefty after all, lol. I can sense blood gushing out from the cut in my viens. I feel no anguish, no pain, no remorse...
"Last bench, are you paying attention?" It was not a blade after all... It was a pen. It was not a cut... It was a blue mark I had managed to make on my wrist. "Yes ma'm..." "Did you calculate the maximum permissible stress?" "No Ma'm, I forgot to get my calculator." "Sit down and pay attention." "O.K. ma'm." There was a pain, an anguish, a remorse...
I lowered my head and stared at the gray of my desk as I had every single day, every single period, every single moment.
"Chiru, did you do the assignment?" "What...no, I was going to copy Hari's, but then, it was too long..." I was gonna cut my wrist... but then something went wrong....That's life.
Life - What is life? A quest for monotonity?... A journey without a destination?... A test for which there are no marks?... A race with no finish line?...
Or is it a small child's smile when he gets a 25 paise parle toffee wrapped in red?...Is it a sprint in which you run so hard that at the end of it there is sweat in your eyes, that they mistake for tears?Your heart thumps so hard, that you wonder how'd it feel if it were to tear apart the walls of your ribcage, cut through the flesh and embrace the lovely air that has to pass the tests of the tracheas and lungs, alter its nature and composition before it can be one with the heart... And they'd think it is a heart attack...Or is it a turmoil wherein you dig a trench so deep that you can never come out of it?No light can chase you there...no sound can penetrate so deep...They think you are gone and shovel back the mud in the dent that you carved. You can feel mud in every pore of your skin...There is no air to breathe...You are breathing the clay that you played with and made mud balls out of, mud balls you threw on your grand dad...You can't move...You don't want to move...You can't breathe...You don't want to breathe...You lie in wait till another crazy fool decides to dig out the earth in search for the purpose of life...in her search for...she doesn't know what.
"Chutiye, kitna sota hai...Darwaza khol...Aaj nashte mein bhutta mil raha hai" I open my eyes, unlatch the door..."Hi"..."Jaldi jaa...6:00 baj gae hai." I rush downstairs to get my bhutta...The cart is gone...I realise I am not hungry...It's not my stomach...It's not my tongue...It's my heart...It's my pain...I recognise nothing but the pain I have received from you...It does not hurt me to think that I loved you...It hurts me to realise that I'd never love again...I'd never smile at a prank again...I'd never smile at a kiss, a hug, a victory...again...It's only a memory, a dream that can rekindle my spirit...that can make me experience the joy that life begets to us humans...The question is...Can I live in this dreamed of world for eternity...Can a second of my past, make me go on for 6-7 decades to come?...This is the one question which does not have no answer in an I.S. Code...This is the one question mark which asserts my life to be nothing more than a rhetoric....
"Chiru, I am feeling damn frustrated, care for a drink?"
"O.K."
And here I am...prostrate...at your mercy...No!...At the mercy of your memory...at the mercy of a dream in which you may care to pass a measely smile for a dimwit...or...you may not...and if you don't...my propensity 'd force me to resolve to carry a blade to class tomorrow...but the eternal craven freak that I am...I won't...and another day would pass in remorse of the cut that I could have made...that I could not...that I did not...And then.... one fine day.... I'd be the grand dad of another red-blooded maniac who'd throw mud balls at me...and I'd be free when my heart breaks free of these iron...these concrete...these civil walls...and they'd say it was a heart attack...They'd never know that, for an eternity, he craved for his heart to break free of these shackles... His heart attacked...His heart failed...But, it freed him of the eternal jinx bestowed upon him...they called it LOVE...lol