A dog sniffs over his body lying near the garbage bin at the end of the street. He has been lying there since a day hardly conscious without coming to the notice of people passing by. Those are the last few moments of his life. At that moment, he wants to forget breathing so that he can let go of this life.
He never thought it would end this way. Guilt robs his peace of mind for all the wrong he did. A sense of remorse covers him that he can’t take any more of it. He wants to put everything at rest now. At that instant, he doesn’t need a physical entity to live in. His soul is set free…
His soul is now enticed by the beauty of things around him. He is in no hurry. This is the only state of mind where freedom comes with no responsibility. He is thrilled to see bud slowly blossoming to become a beautiful flower, clouds taking different shapes as they float in the wind. The buzzing sound of bees and flies, the booming noise of river rushing towards sea sounds musical. A leaves shed tree looks like a great piece of art. Dawn and the dusk sky looks as though it’s being painted by a baby with all colours in random fashion. He is mused to hear whispers of rustling leaves and cold breeze. He marvels at the harmony with which everything in nature exists and suddenly he finds that he has no place in their world.
All that made him happy just a while ago seems overly simple. Trees which looked motherly and majestic now seem to be chained to earth, stagnant. Ceaseless journey of river looks tiresome and course less. Moon, a romantic symbol of love which ruled the night sky now looks abandoned longing for a companion. Birds returning to nests at the end of the day make him long for his family. The rhythm in nature which he found amazing now looks like a mundane routine. The heart which once jived to the melody of cuckoo now mourns. He realises the greater purpose of life. He wants to go back to his former life, which was dynamic, constantly changing. Only now, he wants to recreate the reality. Battle is between him and him within. Winning of one would only mean defeat of his other self. Mind is restless again. It can neither stay here nor go there. It’s inexorable…ironic.