A Means To an End

“Why did he do that to himself?”

That was the only question we had in our minds. We all lived in different parts of the town now, but we had grown up in the same block. And we were inseparable. What changed now that he felt he had to leave us both alone.

It was just another plain Wednesday morning. Wednesday’s are probably the most boring of days. Staying at the centre is of not much use to anyone. But not that Wednesday, I didn’t expect to wake up to the news of a friend’s demise.

“He’s no more with us” was all I heard and probably all I needed to hear, cos whatever came after that sentence didn’t matter.

I just knew I had to leave and as soon as I could. It didn’t matter that he lived an hour away from my place or that I had work to do. When you grow up seeing the best and worst of each other, work is the last thing to factor in as a reason for me to not go see my friend’s mortal remains.

Growing up, death has been kind to me, not taking anyone away. The closest he came to me was to knock on my neighbors door. Not this time, death didn’t come knocking at my friend’s door; but he answered when my friend knocked. I wish he hadn’t. That’s the thing, death doesn’t sleep. Unlike god who plays favourites with humans, death welcomes one and all. No questions asked.

The Journey

My drive there was a mixture of emotions.For one, it managed to shock me enough to get up before work. The main thing that lingered in me was, how do I feel?

If cinema has taught me anything, it was that death had to be mourned and the only acceptable response was to feel sad. Well, I couldn’t. I tried to shed a tear, I really did.

The journey began in the rear seats of G18. All I had were two questions.

My second question was answered sooner than I expected and I finally got the chance to dreamily look out of the window while an imaginary BGM about friendship played. Our 13 ¾ years of friendship warranted one. Asshole couldn’t wait 1 ¼ years. Would’ve been a good 15 years.

As my mind tried hard to cope with a loss and more importantly to accept it, my eyes started noticing things he liked. Like the bus conductor replying sarcastically when someone handed out a 100 for a ticket that cost 18 Rs. That was him and that was the type of thing he liked.

The bus just crossed the local bar that we frequented. He frequented. My alcohol virginity was not lost at the time. That reminded me of him. He didn’t have a care in the world. He feared no one. He grew up taking care of himself. Broken mirrors still reflect full images, broken families however do not. You’d think such a guy wouldn’t mind going for a beer run FOR HIMSELF. But he wouldn’t, because “It’s too close to this bitch’s home” he’d say pointing to our other friend. He wouldn’t risk being seen by our friend’s family, but he would gladly roll joints in the last bench of our class.

After all that, that piece of shit, How could he take this decision?

The bar was only a kilometer away from our college. I knew this place would eventually come and along with it a thousand memories for each metre that I passed. I won’t go into what we did, but if I were to repeat it, there’s not a single soul I’d rather do it with and not a single thing that I wouldn’t do again. Even the not so legal ones.

Once those memories hit me like the tenth round of vodka, the remainder of the journey kept popping up things that I thought he would have liked and things I knew he would like. For one, there was this kid seated 3 seats ahead of me sleeping and drooling on his mother’s shoulder. I didn’t envy the mother. But I knew if he were next to me, he would’ve tried his best to get that kid to wake up and cry in a tune that’d rip a new ear drum.

That fucker.

Somewhere between the imaginary BGM and a scheme to get the kid up from his sleep, I found my throat choking up,maybe the grief was getting to me. I didn’t mind, Hell, I wouldn’t have cared if I cried my eyes out in the middle of a dreadfully crowded bus.

Maybe that would have woken up that kid. I wonder.

But, tears are like a fresh morning’s dew. Easy to find, hard to hold.

As the bus stood near the crowded IT corridor’s signal, clouds began to gather as if it were mourning the sorrow of people having to travel in this horrid summer heat.

I enjoyed the rain much like any normal person would. I wasn’t as crazy as to stand in a downpour without an umbrella but I didn’t mind a drizzle. Everything in moderation. But someone took to rain like a cat to water, you know who I’m talking about.

That son of a gun.

It didn’t take that long for the sky’s sympathy to clear up. The rain had stopped by the time my bus rolled to a halt. And it didn’t take me much time to meet up with my other friend there, like we agreed upon. This was the other part of the “us both” I referred to at the start and somewhere in the middle.

Just a hug later, we were on our way to see a body that we’ve seen countless times before, but this time, it was just a bit different.

A good ten minutes went discussing our journey there and how he couldn’t stop crying and how it was just too much to bear. I could relate to the grief, but he lost me at tears.

That’s the thing with grief, there’s no ‘one size fits all’. I would even argue that my friend, death doesn’t need grieving, but an embrace for all the bad rap that he gets. He just does his job. He’s no worse than your computer compiling your shitty code. I say he, because death cannot be a woman.

We knew we reached the place by the sounds of oppari echoing in the distance. We walked in to see someone who we once knew as the guy who didn’t give a shit. Apparently he did. He took his life over a lost love.

Maybe death could be a woman. Love and death, they don’t warrant an identity for themselves.

Seeing all the people there, I saw the fool that my friend was. I bet if I threw a rock into that crowd, it would hit someone who would’ve given up their life to save his. Maybe. I can’t talk for the others there, but I knew two people who would have.

As we prepared to take his lazy ass to his last bed six feet under. The tears that hid in me showed up.

You piece of shit. I bet you’re happy now.

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