Contemplating suicide

‘Sameer Chauhan.’

He muttered his name under his breath, looking down at his own dashing picture on the front page of The Times.

He was leaning back nonchalantly against the parapet, with an amused expression on his face.  His grip tightened on the newspaper, as the strong wind tried to snatch it away from his hands. The wind was much fiercer than what he had anticipated it to be on top of a thirty story building. He could feel the warmth of the setting sun on his back, the evening becoming warmer as the shadows grew in size. Weird, he thought. 

Unable to withstand the heat, he stood up to remove the black double-breasted jacket. After folding it neatly along the creases, he placed it down next to his feet and leaned forward onto the parapet, lightly resting his elbows upon it. He glanced towards the headlines once again. The bold, capital letters were screaming out loud and clear. 

SAMEER CHAUHAN – YOUNGEST CEO OF S&F

At just 34, Sameer had entered the record books, achieving what every average man only dreamed of. Admittedly, Lady Luck had blessed him with good fortune, showering him with success at every turn he took. S&F, named after their founders, Sameer and Farhan, was still at the age of innocence in the monstrous corporate world. But, they had established their own mark now; a stamp which would last for at least another two decades. As he continued reading the lengthy, colorful article on himself, which would put his sycophants to shame, the question that he had been suppressing all day long, surfaced in his head.

What now?

He frowned deeply and peered down at the dotted traffic crawling along the road from the north end of the building towards south. People in automobiles; honking in rage, cursing the neighbor, talking to their loved ones or the few lost in their own world. Wasn’t victory supposed to be sweet? He had assumed that he would be engulfed by a feeling of euphoria at reaching the top. Instead, the question kept gnawing at him from the inside.

What now?

Such strange illusions. He bent forward as much as he could, and then suddenly, he put all his weight onto his palms and raised his body to climb onto the top of the parapet, all the while clutching the paper in his hand. His body swayed a little, against the wind, as he steadied himself.

Much better.

His eyes rolled down towards the paper again, and his face glowed with a pleasant smile as he looked at the inset. Neha. The trifecta for a woman - smart, sexy and sensitive. He couldn’t have asked for a better spouse. Yet, the cold feeling haunted him repeatedly. He had done everything that the society had expected of him.

Everything.

He spread his arms apart and let go of the printed sheets which began to float and dance around him. He tried to imagine the reaction, if someone were to come to the roof top at that moment. Now, that would be something. He let out an open, hearty laugh and slowly moved forward.

One inch at a time; the way he had progressed in life.

His gaze fell upon the crimson sun which was slowly dipping into the horizon. Going down with the sun? He looked down at the buzzing crowd and pondered; maybe he would find the true meaning of life when he’d hit zero.

A Dirac delta.

The front half of the shoes had crossed the edge now as he supported himself delicately on his heels. Closing his eyes, he imagined letting himself free like the paper. To just drift around with no particular direction, free from the chains of expectations. He could feel the pressure of the wind on his back, urging him to take the final step. For the first time in years, he felt a rush of adrenaline and a sense of serenity at the same time. 

Perhaps, death would unlock some answers. He started to rock back and forth, mimicking the rhythm and movement of his heartbeat.

This feels good. I think it’s time to…

The sudden vibration in his trousers jolted him out of his reverie. Taking a step backwards, he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. One message received. Neha!

‘Where are you hiding, Mr. CEO? The party is about to begin.’

He shook his head violently, trying to regain his composure as his legs trembled in sudden anxiety. He inhaled deeply, amazed at his own actions and simultaneously, feeling grateful to the silly, incongruous message.

Never again.

He turned back and hopped off the parapet. Picking up his jacket, he walked languidly towards the door, going back to the place where he was meant to belong.

S&F. Success and Failure, he mused.

The real story

A couple of months ago, Fruit Ninja [Well, he maintains a constant supply of fruits at our place] and I had a discussion on a newspaper report, ‘Suicides in premier institutes’. We were trying to dig out the possible reasons for these intellectuals to commit suicide.  While I simply camped in my room and pretended to delve deep into the subject, Fruit Ninja did some more fruitful work. He googled. I owe him one for that.

Mahesh Mahadevan, 23, was the subject of his research. Mahesh, a B.Tech graduate from IITM and a UC Irvine mechanical engineering graduate student, committed suicide in April 2010.

Apparently, this was the last of his posts which was deleted from his blog-

"Schadenfreude - the term doesn't really apply when you laugh at your own misery, does it?
The one time you take the huge leap of faith and expect your system (that works too well otherwise) to simply work, it doesn't. If I can laugh at that, I have reached.
Nevertheless, a tear in my eye gleams at the radiance of this beautiful line that (henceforth) gets preserved here:
I am your clouds; you are my sea, I love you, and forever we shall be!

Miss would be a thoroughly insufficient verb to describe what I feel, oh heaven-sent blot of color that made the canvas of my life what it is today! Nevertheless...

And with that, I was not ashamed, but now as quick as I appeared, and played this lovely game, I must now depart, as quickly as I came. I bid you farewell, for you were simply lovely. Now fly towards your new love, like a flock of dovely(s).
We are now separated, but not forever."

Yes, it is cryptic, creepy and incredible.

The Dirac delta analogy in my story was simply amazing, wasn’t it? I realize that it doesn't exactly fit in well with the fiction, but for me, the whole story revolved around it. I don’t take any credit for that line though. It was inspired by Mahesh’s last [existing] post on his blog.

I am the same person as before, but a Dirac Delta hit my core.

I could never match his puns, indirect references or wordplay. I don't think anyone can. He was unique in his own way. He believed life was just about learning and living. I wonder what changed his mind. All that remains now is his blog with an image which proclaims, ‘I was here!’

So, what makes such ingenious people take the final step? Won’t they have grown beyond all the usual childhood drama or love failure or such petty factors? Do they get hurt when they are not surrounded by people who have the same line of thought as they do? Do they succumb to the pressure and disappointments and fall into [clinical?] depression and become loners?  Do they lose their way while trying to find answers to the purpose of life?

I am no therapist. I can only speculate.

But, if you are feeling suicidal anytime, just call someone, or buy a dog. Or better yet, go read your horoscope. I’m sure it will say that it’s not the right hour to die.

Because, it’s not worth it.

P.S. – Don’t read too much into this post. I just felt like writing some serious fiction and sharing some information. I’m dying eager to get back to cracking more PJs. But, if you do apply some nonsensical principles of psychological projection or such, well, you could always buy me the latest iPad, as they say that apples keep the doctor away. Pardon the cliché.