Death of a Consultant

I read in the papers today about a 25 year old doctor MBA who committed suicide, leaving behind a mere note saying I have found the truth. His death does not bother me; I am used to reading about heinous crimes in our papers on a daily basis—murders, suicides, rapes and abductions—all clubbed together on one page, everyday.

The idea of death is fascinating in its fear, allure and finality. As I squat smoking on the tenth floor balcony of my office, I think of this man again. His flatmate described him as “depressed” apparently on account of his extensive reading of philosophy. This statement makes me uneasy and annoyed. Why is solitude and “philosophy” clubbed together as depressive?

As I take unthinking drags from the depleting cigarette, the sun bearing down on me, albeit quite pleasantly in the soft wintry chill of the city, I find myself staring at the pale blue metallic railing that entraps me from injury.

My mind wanders and imagines me climbing over the railing, stretching out to nothingness and gravity, with merely my fingers wrapped around the thin metal rods to prevent me from falling. I imagine myself feel the wind without the restraint of floors, concrete and metal; my hair flies helter skelter over my face and back and slowly, my sweaty fingers are beginning to lose their grip.

I know that this movement will lead to a physically rapid but mentally freeing fall and a loud thud of crunching bones, blood and hopefully death amidst the cars and bikes parked below. I would rather die after such a fall than survive so heinously injured.

My imagination has run its course and now the rational mind takes over; physically shrugging away the thought like a mother berating her child for eating too many sweets. I realise that the cigarette has long gone out and I need to return to my material duties, my bread and butter.

The only excitement of such a life of urban young adulthood lies in writing the experience down. The existentialist in me shakes her head cynically and asks, “For whom? For what purpose? Does it make your life better? It is a lie, blogs and reviews and LIFE that corrodes you till you fade away”.

The simpleton in me shies away in its feeling of insecurity and realisation that it is a lesser being and merely looks forward to an interesting lunch.