The Road To Chandigarh

 There are two things in life that can stop you from taking your own life, even if it is a few minutes away. One is a sense of purpose – when that unfinished task holds you back. Another is the deep love for a person –when you don’t want to leave that person alone, or you are scared of losing that person forever.

Victor Frankl wrote this years ago but it took me years of agony and a drive to Shimla and back to Chandigarh, to finally assimilate the truth in it.

Without beating about the bush, let me venture straight into my story.

…

People go for a vacation to take a short break. This year however, when a bunch of my friends decided to set off for Shimla-Manali, I looked upon it as a golden opportunity. I was not in for any short break. Fuck that. I was all for an absolute break from life. I didn’t plan on returning.

Once we arrived, I discovered that the mountains were not so suited for jump-off. They could hardly be called steep, and even if you did dive, you would possibly be entangled in brambles and fir and pine trees. At most, you’d be seriously injured but not serious enough. You would never fall off as deep as you’d need to. To say that I was disappointed, would be an understatement.

…

It was a beautiful morning – the day we drove back to Chandigarh. Every detail of that morning is still fresh and vivid in my memory. Our bus stopped at a row of hillside fruit shops. The roads were dusty, the sun was mellow. All my friends were buying almonds and cashews, bargaining vehemently with shopkeepers. 

I felt free, like I never felt before. I walked and walked. At one time, I reached a bridge which led to the highway. I looked below.

Bipasha. I loved the name. Sleek and shiny, it ran with us all along our journey, gurgling and laughing like a child. Here she flowed – gentle  and shy –below the bridge.

The fall was perfect. All I had to do, was to climb up the bridge and it would be all be over. The bridge was low. It was no great feat to climb it. I could hear the cars whizzing past. I could see the hilly road winding off … and I could hear the breeze murmuring in my ears.

Just as I began the climb I felt this deep pang in my insides. My guts roared in anguish and pain… and yes, fear. My knees wobbled.

Yes, for the first time, I felt scared. It would have been okay if it was only fear that stupefied me. There was something else too. Something stronger.

I looked down once more.

Frantically, I began to ask myself, “Why the hell can’t you do this? After all this time? Why? ” I closed my eyes, clenched my fist and tried once more.

Instead, tears ran down my face. All at once, I realized.

Like a bolt of thunder, like a jolt of electricity, the truth struck me in the face.

I loved too much. I loved someone too deeply. So deep that I never even realized. I could not leave without seeing him. I could not leave even after seeing him. Because he would remind me of all the reasons  to live. I wanted to return. And I didn’t want to. My heart was torn.

At that point, all I wanted was someone to hold me and say, “Don’t do this. Your life matters.” And yet all I could hear was the river rippling below and the anguished cries buried deep in me…

My messed up consciousness could only grasp that I did not have it in me to jump. Not anymore.

…

Later that day, I remembered.

Years ago, I considered all this but could not go through. I loved Dad too much. I was worried of how broken it would leave him. It took me three years to convince myself that he would be okay, that he was strong enough for this.

Then, I could not do it because I knew I had to write. I had a purpose. Writing kept me alive.

And today once more, love deterred me. I could not die because I had so much of love inside of me. I wept bitterly and wished I stopped feeling. Forever.

The more I reflected the more I began to see meaning in all this absurdity. It’s not that I stopped contemplating death. It’s not that easy. But I realized a few things.

…

Even when everything around you stops making sense, if you find yourself capable of love, you should know that you have a reason to live. One reason better than millions.

If you have a mind capable of imagination, you should know that even death holds you in esteem.

If you find beauty in a small grass flower raising its head in the sun, you should know that you are not destined to die. Life will not let you go that easy. These small moments will draw you back, even at the very last moment.

                            

No matter how you fret and blabber about the harsh realities of life, at the end, these moments that appear as pieces of your cluttered imagination, these emotions that look null and void before your logical mind – these emotions are the ones that will hold you away from death.

Because in this tattered world that sucks life out of us every moment, that rejects every inch of truth and individuality in us, even in this rotting world, if you have a heart capable of love, appreciation ad imagination, you should consider yourself a chosen one.

One out of millions.