24 March 2000
I had wanted to jump off yesterday.
It’s an irony, isn’t it? The same building claiming the lives of two brothers. It’s Brahmi who stopped me.
‘Wouldn’t you want to see your nephew Anirban once?’ she asked.
So today morning, both she and I stood outside my house, the house I thought I had seen the last of, and waited for Maa to come home. It wasn’t until late evening that a taxi stopped outside the house and Maa stepped out of the car with Anirban wrapped in a little white cloth. Baba and Boudi who were in the balcony rushed down to see Anirban. Boudi touched Maa’s feet and then took her baby into her arms. The baby and she both cried. The Bhattacharyas and the Mittals too joined in, and they all baby-talked to Anirban, told Maa–Baba how cute he was. Then they all moved inside the building.
We were outside the house for another hour to see if they came to the balcony. When they didn’t we turned to get back to the building.
Brahmi and I cleaned the bedroom the best we could. We threw out the garbage, folded out clothes, and packed our bags the best we could. The electric stove went to the watchman, the clothes to the nearby slum. It was late by the time we came back to the threadbare bedroom of Dada’s flat. We walked around, taking it in for the last time, reminiscing about the odd week we spent there, the best of times, the worst of times. Then we stepped out, locked the door and walked up to the terrace. The city was awake, lights twinkling, dinners being served, normal-relationship roles being performed. We sat there silently waiting for everyone to go to sleep.
We didn’t say it but I knew we were thinking of the motion of events our deaths will unfold. This diary would be found for one. I hope Maa–Baba, Tauji–Taiji see how wrong they were; nothing will happen to Vedant in the longer run but it might give him a few sleepless nights at least. We held hands, waiting for the inevitable. When you’re this close to death, your words assume an extraordinary power. We all remember and disseminate the last words of a dying man or woman. So we chose to keep quiet till Brahmi told me I should write the last diary entry. ‘I don’t want to let go of your hand,’ I said.
‘I have to write something for you,’ she said.
I tore a page from my diary and gave it to her. For a long time she stared at it before she started to write. And then I got down to write the last words I will ever write.
‘I love you, Brahmi. You’re sitting in front of me and I want to tell you that I love you. You’re smiling at me while I write this. Of course, you’re going to read this in a while before we step over the ledge and I hope your last smile is because of me. Wouldn’t that be a fitting end to our love story? I can thump my chest and claim our story is the greatest in the world. We loved, lived, and now will die together. Who can match up to that? I know, I know it’s not a competition but we both love competition, don’t we? So let’s just say we win this one. You’re so beautiful, I have to tell you this one more time. The world won’t see more of you and it’s a darn shame. To think I existed without you sounds absolutely impossible. You’re blushing because I’m looking at you. You’re asking me to look away. You’re asking me to stop looking at you because you can’t write otherwise. So I look away. I’m thinking of all the times we have spent together. Even in the darkest of times, you were the light I could always hold on to, and I’m thankful to you for that. Now you’re getting up, walking towards me. In your hand is the letter you want to give me.’
‘Read it once you’re done writing,’ you say and walk away from me and towards the ledge.
You’re standing at the edge, stretching your hand out to me, waiting for me. Come, you’re saying. You have stepped on the ledge, your hair blowing wildly. Hands outstretched, you have closed your eyes. You seem happy, lovely. Wait, I got to finish this and you have to read it. I should leave now. Close this book, read your letter and come to you. You’re asking me to hold your hand. And now you’re turning away from me. You are saying something but I can’t hear you. It’s too windy. You’re crying now. Now you’re smiling. I’m done. I love you, Brahmi. Now, give me a moment while I read your letter.
Hey Raghu,
I am at the ledge and you think what you're writing is the last of what you will ever write. You're thinking I will read it and smile and I am sure if I do I will smile but there's no time left for me. You are a lovely person, Raghu, you have the power to be happy and to make others happy, and you should be that person more often. You have the power to love, and the power to change, and you're a survivor unlike me. You're brave and I'm not. Didn't we always talk about how brave it is to die? No, it's not. It's brave to survive, to live the years god has given us, to hold close our happiness in the times of sorrow and to live on.
You can do that, I can't.
You have the capacity to live for others. Like this morning, didn't you agree in a second when I asked you if you wanted to see your nephew? You did because you have an unending capacity to love, to give, to live for others. And what kind of a person would I be if I snatch someone like you away from the world? Ask yourself what your answer would be if I had given you the option of staying in your Dada's flat, just you and I, scraping by, existing. You would have picked me and life. You would have done anything to keep happy. It's because you're a nice person, Raghu. You believe love overcomes all, the deepest of pains, the hardest of times. You gave me the best few months of my life and I'm thankful for that. You were the only part of my life that was worth living for. Don't beat yourself up when I'm gone because it won't be your fault. I was always a goner. A bit crazy, mental, as my relatives always thought of me. I died the day my parents died. After that it was just a matter of time.
Now I think all I was waiting for was you, to fall in love with you, to have someone love me as selflessly as you do; you were god's consolation prize for my defeat in life. You saw me differently, and I can't thank you enough for it. But I can't be with you, Raghu. I can't drag you into my sadness. So let me go. Look up and smile at me. Before I jump off this ledge, I want to look at you one last time. Don't try to run or talk. It's too late. Just look at me, smile at me, and don't be shocked. This is our last moment. I want us to smile. You're probably crying right now. That's okay. You will cry for a few days, mourn my absence, but you will get over it, Raghu. You deserve all the happiness in the world. You have a lot of time. You're not going to die today. You have a long, fulfilling life to live. You have to live. For my sake. And some day, you will find someone who will love you more than I ever did, and that day you will thank me. Now it's time for me to go. When I jump, don't follow me, don't try to save me. Save yourself instead. If you have ever loved me, don't come after me. Now look up at me and smile. Don't cry, smile. Yes, that smile. That sunshine. That light, my love. It's my time to go. Bye, Raghu. I love you. I will always love you.
She jumped.