Part 3

The train seemed alarmingly close now. The earth shook violently. He almost felt like the earth beneath him was cracking up. The ballast stones went berserk as the train hurtled towards him. He broke into a cold sweat and clenched his fists harder. He opened his eyes and looked at the train, the light was almost blinding now. He shut his eyes tight. A voice from within asked him to get up and run. He refused to listen.

Was this the way to end his life? Was death the answer to problems? What about those few moments that he spent with his few loved ones. Was it worth living for? Maybe, yes, but then what about his perennial problems? That last question made him feel that his decision was right. This was the only way out. He had to die.This was his destiny and it was his choice. A script that he penned and executed.

A ear shattering sound was the last he heard after which he went blank. He was engulfed in fumes. A few trying seconds later, it was all over. The ear shattering noise, the weird dancing of the ballast stones and reverberation of the earth. This was it, he was history.

As he opened his eyes hoping to find the angels that legends taught him, he was caught by surprise.

It was dark. Very dark. There was no St. Peter waiting for him in a flowing white robe. In fact it was deserted. He struggled to his feet and looked around. It was far from what he had expected.

A queer little red light and a familiar noise now faded into the darkness. A few befuddled seconds passed before reality dawned. The train had actually gone past him on the adjacent track. He looked around in disbelief. He pinched himself to see if he was still alive.

He had failed. Once more. Another decision gone kaput. Even death had cheated him.

Or was it the other way round? Did he cheat death? Could it have been that destiny wanted him to live? Was this a fresh lease of life that was given to him? Could it be that this was life’s way of saying that he did not have the right to decide when to die? Does life actually dictate terms?
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Well for me it has. On numerous occasions. My life has not been too different from my character’s. True, thankfully I haven’t been too much in debt, but there have been times when I have been driven to the brink of depression. Life, with its twists and turns has always sprung surprises. Some good and some not so good. Clichéd as it may seem, when one door closes, another one always opens somewhere…

So back to the story, what happens to the guy next? I don’t really know. Maybe he went home. Maybe he waited for the next train to try his luck again. Logically, there could have been no other possibility. I leave it up to you to decide what would have happened to him. How would you have reacted if you were in his shoes? Would you have gone back to an unwelcome world, where foes outnumber friends or would you have said Hasta La Vista? Over to you!!!

Cut!!!!Credits, please ;-)

Part 2

The distant rattle of the express reminded him that it had an entry in his apparently ever-growing list of sworn enemies. He walked towards his table and looked at it. There were scribblings on it. Bits of paper were strewn around. He looked up at the poster again and tried to make a strange connection between the train and godfathers take on enemies.

And then it struck him. Maybe his enemy could give him the answer he was looking for all along. Yes, this was it. All he had to do was to lie on the track and his “enemy” would do the rest. Take him away from this hellhole. All of a sudden everything seemed to fall in place. He had found his passage to history. An UNCOMPLICATED death he thought again

It was almost dark now. He decided it was time to leave. He looked at his wife’s photo and wished that she were there to comfort him. To tell him that it was all right. To give him that hug that had reassured him always. He took small steps across the make shift mantle that had his favorite photos. He saw his mother’s picture and a tear welled in his eye. She looked more beautiful than ever. He caressed the photo and mumbled a sorry to it. It was the first time in years that he cried. Probably the last.

Trudging over rocks and pebbles he walked towards the track. It was pitch dark and he could barely see where he was heading. The night had an eerie silence about it. The air was still. The walk was agonizingly painful but each step took him away from his pain and his misery he remembered. But it also brought him that much closer to death.

Making the final climb to the elevated track, he looked at the sky and breathed heavily. Sadness, fatigue and mental trauma in the ugliest of concoctions flowed through his veins. He knelt down and buried his face in his hands.

Looking around and finding no one, he arched his back on the track and lay facing the sky. The moonlit sky and the stars seemed like doing an ensemble for his farewell. Silence always hounded him, but now it seemed like even the silence was saying a silent prayer for him.

He closed his eyes and waited with bated breath. Moments passed and he felt more lifeless with each passing second

A distant rumble broke the silence. He flipped his head to his right and saw a distant light accompanied with the ear-piercing horn. He clenched his fists hard and shut his eyes. He tried not to think of anything, but they say, moments before you die, your see flashes of your life in your mind. He thought of his mother, the only lady who unconditionally loved him; his wife who had been the only sane being in his insane world. There were good things and good times too after all, he thought

Part 1

This was it, he thought

He had chewed on it for several weeks but the storm within his head never seemed to abate. Ever-mounting debts had driven him to the point of no return. His best friend had betrayed him. His wife had ditched him for death. There were just no reasons left for him to live.

Suicide had never been an option he considered. But with only his life left to lose, it seemed perfect that he lost that also. Life was like fighting a losing battle. Every road he took was a dead end, and every decision, a mistake. There was always something terrible in the offing.

Life was indeed one mean sonova bitch.

But even suicide seemed complex. Was poison better? Or Hanging? Poison doesn’t work at times. A seizure and 3 days in the hospital was all that it took you to get back on track. Hanging was a good option, but with his kind of luck, you could never say. Besides, he wanted death to be instantaneous. No last fighting moments. He had lost all his strength to grapple with life. What he wanted now was an UNCOMPLICATED death.

As he stared out of the window and at the setting sun, he took another drag of his cigarette. His house was small and dingy but he loved it. After all it was where he dreamt his dreams, where those dreams took shape and where those dreams ultimately died.
His clothes were all soiled and smelly. But then, who really cared? After all in a couple of hours he was going to be history. That brought him back to the contentious topic that had been lingering on his mind. The passage to history.

The distant sound of a train snapped him from his own train of thoughts. He stared out and saw the express tearing across with unbridled speed. He looked at it with disgust. It was the same train that had woken him up from sleep on many occasions.

He hated trains. The commotion they created. The traffic jams and the long waiting hours. Almost anything even remotely connected to a train repelled him.

He took another drag of his cigarette and looked at his table. He had a poster of Al Pacino just above the table with “The Godfather” written in big bold letters on it. Godfather had been one of his all time favorite movies and had seen it at least a dozen times. He reminisced some of the lines from the movie and said his favorite one aloud

“Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer”

He couldn’t help but laugh when he thought of the significance of that line in his life. Friends, did he have any? Enemies, well a handful of them provided he had ten sets of hands. Maybe more. Another giggle and the last drag.

The cigarette left an acrid taste in his mouth.