THE SUICIDE

Good times are sometimes so hard to come by that darkness fills your insides to the very core, and all you want now is to leave the world, in peace or in war, but you don’t want to live on this planet anymore.

On an odd hour of the night, at 3:30 hours in Alfa’an, was born a boy of fate unknown to the greatest of astrologers. Although he was no extraordinary kid, but so he was, when it came to belief. This young man, named Armaan by his father Sir Kabir, was the son of the town’s richest merchant and yet how poor he was, was for only him to know.

The care, the concern, the attention gifted to him would, and did, envy every kid out there. The love, the affection, the mother and father destined to him were but only of a blessed soul. And so may you wonder why and where and how did he get deprived of the royalties. But how could it be good enough, without the bad cutting in equal share?

And so he did lose his mother, at the age of nine months, to the hands of an accident of theirs, which, by some miracle, hurt but only her. Had he thought he had seen the worst of all, but oh, how very wrong he would’ve been! And so started his sufferings, when the fairytale stepmom stepped into his life; Armaan unable to say, father remained oblivious to the son’s miseries. Seldom though you see, or maybe not even that, a mother, stepped or not, would step onto your palms with her heels, thus granting the punishment of not remembering that food was not for you, as you were punished already for reasons unknown to you.

Hardship and adversity tested Armaan, not only in his early age, but even as he ended his teenage. Had you seen Sir Kabir in his last moments, sure you’d been that there lied a man who did well to the world, except his own. Though he was leaving his son to the woman who knew never what love was but for the love of gold, he left the only thing he had, which was indeed everything he had, to Armaan. So much and so much of land was anything but enough. It could have served generations.

And now came in with his cruel stepmom, his uncle, aunt and almost every member of his family, who never in their life had shown the slightest sign of being family. They wanted but a small portion of it to each of them. But Armaan was no kid no more. He had his father’s shoes to fill in to. He was the richest merchant in town now. But little experience did he have, he had but just one person to consult.

And so he went to the best and the only friend of his father’s, who also was their family lawyer, Mr. Krishna. For hours they talked, Armaan detailing him into his plans, not entirely, though, but he got the gist. Originally, was Armaan to die, everything he owned would lawfully pass onto his mother, irrespective of the way death came about, and perhaps that was exactly what his family was waiting for so desperately. However, though, a will was prepared which was to sell the entire land- all of it- and the money be given away in different charities, and everything was to be monitored by Mr. Krishna. No one was aware of the will.

Days went by and Armaan was locked up in his room almost all the time. He had a big decision to make. Though he was tired of the Maya of the world, nothing was too easy to do about it. And so he remembered the mentor of his life, his father’s final words, which he had often repeated since his childhood: Son, life never really becomes so difficult that you can’t handle it. God created you. He knows what you can bear, and gives you to suffer no more than that. Always be brave, and have faith, my son.

He was ready.

Two hours later, when came a thudding sound from the room of Armaan, people rushed inside, smashing the locked door, only to find the boy lying there unconsciously on the floor. He had rope marks around his neck and the fan above was shaking violently. But there was a weak heartbeat left in his lonely heart, and thus, against the wishes of many in the manor, Armaan was rushed to the hospital. But, to the great relief of many of them, Armaan was declared dead on arrival.

Preparations of his funeral started. Good and sad words, in the name of God, were said. People shared their distress on losing the two prominent members of a prominent family. Few had there been people who might actually, for once, miss Armaan. Though for many of them, anxiety arose as the funeral was moving towards conclusion. Armaan was locked in the coffin, put inside the ditch, and the sand was finally poured over it. The will discovered later led to the rupturing of souls and a new hope for many others.

An hour after everybody had cleared the area the earth was dug into once again. But this time to take the coffin out. It had gone to the notice of nobody’s that the coffin of the town’s richest merchant was defected with two holes on its sides closed down with corks. It was a mistake for which the carve-man was heftily paid, and so was the doctor who declared Armaan dead. Difficult though it would’ve been to keep a secret like that, both of them had to leave the town for ever. As Mr. Krishna now broke open the coffin, Armaan gulped in a lot of air.

Armaan escaped. Free now he was from the terrible Maya of the world. He walked and walked and walked. After 90 days of continuous beg-borrow-steal, in which he covered hundreds of miles, Armaan reached a hilltop. Quite a few huts he could see and he fainted in front of the first one in his way. Armaan was in the most abject condition you could imagine of a rich merchant. Little that those people in the huts had to feed their own stomachs, they too were free from the Maya and helped Armaan. They kept him with them for several weeks before he could actually walk and talk at the same time.

So touched by the generosity of these wonderful kind of people, he gave them whatever little cash he was left with. But he had to feed himself and he wandered off into the fields, and worked with those people there. In a little time, Armaan had a hut to himself. Too far away he had come from his previous life to even imagine of going back; not that he wanted to. And thus, the rock that had so brutally shattered Armaan became the solid foundation on which he rebuilt his life.