Death's Companion

Oh God, words are so untrustworthy. And what is God, anyway? A fabricated construct created by the adults when I was a mere child? The artificial construction rooted so deep into my consciousness that it becomes almost impossible to reject? I don?t know. That?s the human condition in one phrase: I don?t know.

Life goes on. Life flows like a viscous liquid down a twisted slope until the blood inside our veins come to a stand still. Until we start decomposing back into the earth we came from. It would be foolish to believe stolidly in a theory of our creation or existence when infallible evidence is impossible. Then why continue deceiving ourselves? The only real meaning that remains is that there is no meaning. Logical and rational thinking points in that direction since no meaning can be ascertained of human life in the universe. We are just tiny particles like dust compared to the grand structure of the universe. It is simply vain to think that we could actually matter. And simply hilarious to think that we might actually have a purpose!

Does a mote of dust have any purpose?

Anyway, I am lying on a bed while I contemplate these thoughts. The room requires a thorough cleansing. The dust has so filled the corners that it has started to bother my sinuses. Plastic waste and bottles lay strewn on the floor. Images and memories flicker on the cobwebby ceiling. Spiders stare incredulously at my strange existence. Ants pay me no mind; they continue busily hoarding for food.

I hear the sound of young boys yelling outside. They still live. They are filled with an energy they themselves can?t understand. They are filled with life. In the room lying like a corpse, I am filled with death. In fact, I have become a companion of Death. Death was very pleased to find me. He said that every man he had ever met had died of fright, but I hadn?t even shuddered! I told him why should I be afraid of death, when I had defeated life? He had smiled at that, and had sat down beside me.

Today he was visiting me again. He was seated on the armchair, smoking a long black pipe. I got up and slouched towards the window. The boys were wrestling on the grass, tackling each other to the ground. I lit myself a cigarette and inhaled deeply. ?What brings you here?? I asked conversationally.

Death avoided the question. ?You do know that if you continue smoking at that rate, I will have to take you away??

?Nah,? I smiled. ?You would be too bored if you took me away from this miserable world. Who would you talk to then??

?Ah, you are right,? sighed Death. ?I guess I will let you live till a hundred. Until then you will be begging to be taken away??

?You won?t find me begging. I will simply blow off my head the day life doesn?t seem worth living.?

?Ah yes, you could do that?.?

Death seemed to fall in a stupor. ?In fact, had a suicide case only last week. A lonely man hung himself in his flat out in Mumbai. I guess he didn?t have anyone to talk to?.?

I continued studying the kids roughhousing outside. I suddenly felt nostalgic for my own childhood. I puffed at my cigarette slowly.

Death seemed content to keep talking. ?Had a very strange case yesterday night. A woman added liberal amounts of poison in the dinner she was preparing and served it to the whole family. Found the entire family dead at the dinner table, the woman included.?

?Yeah, people do strange things?? I commented, as if the woman had only done something eccentric rather than murder her entire family.

?The parents? had died quickly. I guess they had ingested a large portion of the food. But the kids had suffered, puking their guts out on the carpet while slowly dying.?

Death lapsed into silence after this horrible confession. Even I was slightly shaken by the imagery Death?s words had formed in my mind. I pulled open a rickety drawer and drew out a bottle of whiskey. I gulped down the fiery liquid to calm my nerves. I realized Death had been stalling. He had not answered my first question. I didn?t want the answer anymore, but I was helpless. So I asked him again. ?What brings you around here today??

?Have a job to do,? Death replied tightly.

?Who?? I asked, feeling a sick sensation in the pit of my stomach. I had thought I had been beyond these feelings. Apparently I had been wrong.

Death took some time before answering. Uneasiness coiled inside me like a writhing snake. Finally he spoke, ?The fair one.?

If I could have seen his eyes, I was sure they would have been filled with remorse. But all I could see was blackness where eyes would have been.

I stared helplessly at the innocent kids playing outside. The fair boy stood out amongst his friends of darker countenance. He was very thin and he was running around laughing. I turned and pleaded to Death. ?Can?t you take me? In his place? The kid has barely lived for God?s sake!?

?You know, I can?t, Javed.? Death replied mournfully. ?Can?t alter the fates. Life must flow on in its destructive or fruitful path in this chaotic world. I just do what I have to do. Like all the rest.?

I remained silent. Perhaps because I couldn?t speak. The kids had floundered near to the road in their enthusiastic tussling. I wanted to shout a warning, but my throat had constricted painfully.

Then it happened. One of the boys pushed the smaller fair-skinned boy with more force than he had intended. The boy flew off his feet and fell down on the road. At the same instant a speeding car appeared. The driver, a teenager himself, was too late in applying the brakes. Perhaps he was drunk. Tires screeched; shrill screams rang in the air. The car hit the boy with a sick thumping sound of horrible finality.

I turned away from the window. More screams rent the air as doors started bursting open in the neighbourhood. People cascaded onto their lawns and stood as silent spectators. My heart had stopped thumping. My blood had gone cold. I sat down on the bed and took a long gulp from the bottle that I had forgotten I had been clutching.

Death pocketed his pipe and stood up slowly, taking his leave. He turned and disappeared from the room.

I sat and stared into the depths of wretched misery that we call life.

Source: http://indianfusion.aglasem.com/?p=34439

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