Last Words

Short Story of Teenage – Last Words
Photo credit: solrac_gi_2nd from morguefile.com

“Hit him! Hit him now!”
“Wait, be patient.”
We were crouching behind a tree, waiting with bated breath as the giant figure of Bittu came into sight, Bineet was getting restless: two hours of painful patience in the scorching summer heat and not to mention the buzzing mosquitoes were getting on his nerves. He wanted to pounce on Bittu the moment he saw him. But I had no intention of giving away the ambush. Any slip in the plan would mean broken ribs and scattered skulls for us.
As soon as Bittu passed by the tree, I made a mental note of the time that would take to reach him.
“Now,” I said and we darted forward. The sudden commotion alerted him, but before he could turn, I had lunged at his neck. “What..!” was all he could articulate, as Bineet grabbed his legs and he fell face first to the ground.
Placing a heavy sack, I sat over him, pinning him down. Bineet was letting loose a flurry of kicks and punches at wherever he could reach. The big bully of the class, who had tormented the hell out of us, was not such a tough guy after all. After making sure he got his due, we left him groaning on the road.
We hurtled down the alley, never looking back once. It was not until we had placed some miles between us and the battered Bittu that we stopped, gasping for air. When we had composed ourselves, we broke into rapturous laughter, having realized what we had just done.
Sitting on the pavement, Bineet took out a crumpled piece of paper. It contained a list of things, three of them already marked. Bineet ticked off the fourth one which read “beat up the bully”.
“Four down, two more to go…” he announced.
“Don’t forget, we’ve got seven.” I reminded him.
“Yes, but we won’t be there to tick it off,” Bineet smiled wryly.
The list contained things which we wanted to do before we committed suicide together. It was more like a bucket list, except here we were intentionally kicking the bucket.
What had driven us to think of taking our own lives? The same reasons that snuff life out of every teenager who commits suicide in India: Pestering parents burying their children under the weight of expectations, and when they can’t take the heat they are branded as failures. “A blot on the family name” would be the more appropriate condemnation. And backing them would the snooping neighbours, whose only business is to interfere in your business. And not to mention are the friends and girlfriends, who are all sweet and loving when everything’s fine, but drop you like hot cakes at the first sign of trouble. We were being pushed to the edge of a precipice; we thought we might as well jump over it and end it there.
I took the paper from Bineet’s hands and scanned through it. It had become a habit of late to glance at the list every now and then. Both of us had come to the conclusion that we would go to heaven, for we had got our fare share of hell on the earth. So, we decided to include things that God wouldn’t let us do in his backyard:
1) To smoke till our lungs became soot mines
2) To drink so much that our blood smelt of alcohol
3) To watch as many x- rated movies as possible till our eyes popped out.
“So far so good,” Bineet said: he was glancing over my shoulder. I looked at my watch, “9 P.M, time to return, “I said with a sigh.
*****
My mother often told me that I was good for nothing. And my father had nothing better to add to her opinion except things like lazy, stupid etc. Even Sharma’s (our next door neighbour) dog was not fond of me. He would take great care to decorate my bike with his bodily wastes whenever I parked it outside. I wonder what it would have done if it was human: probably my face would have been in my bike’s place. I once tried to shoo it away, but it yelped as if I was strangling it to death. Sharma came barging into our home like I had molested his daughter or something.
I sat on the armchair right beside my father. He was engrossed in his newspaper.
“Where have you been?” he asked, finally noticing my presence.
“Outside, with Bineet.”
“Hanging around with that loafer, ha? Great! What have you two been planning? Starting a local bar?”

I ignored his jibe. I knew he was trying to provoke.
“Worthless,” He mumbled, “Shame on the family. Raised by my own hands, had such dreams…doctor, engineer…look at Sharma’s daughter.”
“Stop it!” I stood up
“Why should I? I spent so much money on you, and look what have you become? You flunked the entrance test! Not once, but twice!”
“I am not made for science.”
“Why not?!” my father wringed his hands, “If Sharma’s daughter can do it…”
“May be I have bad genes,” I said vehemence dripping from my tongue. I could see that my comment had stung him.
At that moment my mother entered the room.
“See what your son has become? He blames us for his failures.”
“Madhav, apologize immediately.”
“But, mom..”
“Madhav, he is your father. How dare you disrespect him?”
I swallowed hard. With great difficulty, blurted out, “I am sorry”
“Go to your bedroom.”
I stomped off.
As soon as I opened the door, my anger boiled over again. My brother was exploring my laptop, gazing at my private pictures.
“What the?!” How dare you?” I snatched away my laptop
“ It was on my table,” My brother retorted.
I slapped him across the face. My brother grabbed his pencil box and banged it on my head. Soon it was a full scale mini world war going on.
“What is going on here?” My father barged into the room.
“He slapped me dad,” my brother whined.. They are very good at it.
“I told you to mind your behavior.” Dad now faced me, his expression livid: my brother was sniggering in the background.
“But it was..”
Slap! His hand hit hard across my face.
“But!”
Slap again! My brother was no longer sniggering now.
“Get out!” my father screamed, pointing to the door.
******
“Don’t worry you will get over it!”Bineet was trying to console me “ Any ways, they would realize their mistake.” My tears had long died out, but the humiliation at the hands of my father remained in my mind.
“Did she call?” Bineet asked.
“No.” I said, with a touch of disappointment. He was referring to my girlfriend, or rather my ex-girlfriend.
We had been together for the last three years, right from high school . For quite a time, she was all sweet and lovely, with never ending promises of eternal love and all that. She said things like” you occupy every thought of my mind, every beat of my heart and every drop of my blood.” But two months back, she began to act very strange. I found her calls on ‘waiting’ all the time, her chirpy replies were replaced by dull “hellos.” She was no longer paying attention to what I said. When I asked her about her change, she blamed it on the indifference I was showing her lately. Indeed, I had temporarily cut her off from my life, reeling under the pressure of entrance examinations. I tried my best to bring her back, calling her every day, inflating my phone bills. I even tried writing a hundred “sorrys” with my blood. Initially, she had softened up a little, but then she dropped the bomb: She said we had nothing in common, that all along she had been mistaken. I just couldn’t be her Mr. Perfect, so she dumped me unceremoniously over the phone. I was left heartbroken, bruised and bitter.
“Cheer up!” Bineet thumped my back, “We are going to have a wonderful time tomorrow,” He winked.
My face broke into a smile as I consulted the list. My eyes were fixed on point no. 5 which ran “One night’s pleasure.”
“7 pm tomorrow!” Bineet was jumping with joy.
*******
“The watch showed 9p.m. We were returning in an auto rickshaw, back from our adventure at red light zone. Bineet looked pale and sullen; there was an awkward silence between us. The evening’s experience hadn’t been a very pleasant one.
“The BFs!” Bineet blurted out.
“Huh?” I said, baffled at his sudden exclamation.
“The blue films, damn it! They are to blame.”
“And how come?”
“I am having an overdose of this rubbish! So much so that I don’t even get aroused if a beautiful girl sits on my lap.” He was speaking more to himself than to me.
We had arranged for a prostitute at a non descript hotel. It was rush hour, and we didn’t have much money, so we decided to take turns. I waited outside, while Bineet went in.
At first sight, the prostitute looked at us with scornful eyes. She probably felt that a paltry sum, we were demeaning her value. But we being young boys, she thought that it would be a piece of cake to satisfy us. She looked rather haughty while accepting her fee.
But things were not going smooth. She tried every trick in the book to arouse Bineet, but he was simply ‘too excited’ to get ‘excited’. In the end it was more like a doctor trying to save a patient, but to no avail. Her years of experience were put to dust by a mere nineteen year old boy.
Embarrassed by her failure, she now vented her anger on Bineet. She accused him of being impotent, for there never was a client who has not been aroused by the mere sight of her. She insulted his manhood, branding it the ugliest and tiniest she had ever seen. I could hear her mocking laughter from outside.
Bineet stepped out of the room looking very dejected. I had never seen him so low in his life. I was now having second thoughts about going in, though I trusted myself more than Bineet.
“You don’t want to go in?” Bineet asked, almost teary eyed.
“No, I don’t think so. Besides both of us shared the fee… so it isn’t fair if only one gets to do it.
On that dusty evening, as I sat in the auto rickshaw, a realization dawned on me. In order to make up for my girlfriend’s rejection; I was going to commit something quite contrary to my principles. “How low I have stooped just to satisfy my bruised ego!” I reflected. I was becoming the very opposite of the person Nita once fell in love with.
********
“Time for some payback.” Bineet chuckled. He was on his tenth peg of whisky, his eyes bloodshot and his gait staggering. He had forgotten the brothel episode and was now brimming with confidence.
“Hey Madhav, read me the sixth point in the list.”
“I have already done that for the tenth time.”
“Oh come on! Read it again!”
“Blast your girlfriend.”
“Ya,” he laughed maniacally, “So, let’s get started.”
He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“You bi**h! You piece of sh*t…” Bineet blasted into the phone, “Do you think you can use me and throw me like…” He let loose a flurry of expletives. I could hear raised voices from the other side of the call.

“There,” Bineet finally kept the phone, “that went well.” He smiled at me with an expression of triumph.
“Now, it’s your turn.”
“Bineet, I don’t think I am sure of this.”
“Now don’t you back off! We had a deal, remember? Call Nita and show her what you are.”
I took out my phone with trembling hands and dialed Nita’s number.”
“Hello,” a sweet familiar voice filled my ears. It was the sweetest music for me, especially when she woke up.
“Nita?”
“Madhav?” her voice was clearer now.
“Go on, go on.” Bineet urged me.
“I needed to tell you something.”
“Yes.”
“Tell her she is a bitch, a hard hearted witch..” Bineet whispered in my ears. I swallowed hard.
“Nita?”
“Yes, I am listening.”
“Good night.” I cut the call.
“What ?!” Bineet was looking at me incredulously.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean you had your chance and you did not hammer her?”
“I don’t know Bineet, I just couldn’t.”
“Tell you what Madhav, Nita is right.”
“What?”
“That you are a coward, a big fat sissy, who chickens out at the last leg.”
“ Now, Bineet, you don’t have to say that.”
“ Why shouldn’t I?” He was glaring at me. “ I can bet my soul you cannot die with me. You’ll abandon me.”
“Don’t talk rubbish Bineet, I am with you in this.”
“ Bull sh*t! I don’t need you.”
He stomped out of the room and jumped onto his bike.
“Hey Bineet! Stop!” But it was too late. Bineet was off in a second, blasting his bike in the cold midnight air.
**********************
“How is he?” I asked mom.
“ He is still in bad shape. The doctor said that it would take time.”
Bineet was in a coma. His getaway two nights back did not have a happy ending. High on alcohol, he rammed his bike straight into a divider. He had to be put on life support.
“Aunty is distraught: uncle is not talking at all. They have not eaten anything for the last two days,” mom carried on gloomily. Though my father disapproved of Bineet, our families were close. I could see the impact of their tragedy on our household.
But more than the sight of Bineet, all bandaged up, it was his last conversation with me that was constantly playing and replaying in my mind. Was I really a coward, as Bineet had said or Nita had concluded at our breakup?
I surfed through the internet for suicide recipes. Bineet and I had done this countless number of times, but could not arrive at a consensus.
“No, hanging ourselves is risky. Besides, it doesn’t guarantee a painless death” I said
“But burning ourselves is a messy affair. I want to look good on my funeral pyre.” Bineet shot back.
I was all alone now, alone to take my decisions and make my choices. After two days of frantic searching, I was on to something. I had heard of pesticide poisoning . They were easy to procure than quick acting poisons like cyanide. I went to the distributer and asked for the best pesticides.
“These are the brand new ones. Very efficient.”
I somehow managed to smuggle the large bottle into the house. My mother had prying eyes and it was difficult to hide something from her.
I sat down on the arm chair beside my father, half expecting him to reprimand me, and keep on bantering about my failures as it was his usual routine.
“Had your lunch?” His voice was surprisingly gentle.
“No, I mean yes, I had something,” I was unprepared for his change of mood.
He did not say anything: he just returned to his newspaper. My parents were acting kind of strange these days. They were no longer rude to me rather they showed care and concern towards me. Perhaps Bineet’s condition had a depressing effect on their mind. They probably did not want to see themselves in his parent’s position.
I went back to my room, only to find my door slightly ajar. My brother was surely inside, messing with my things.
“You again!” I shouted, “ I told you not to touch my things.”
“I haven’t touched anything,” my brother replied defiantly.
My eyes scurried across the room. Indeed my things were in their places.
“See,” my brother snubbed me, “now step aside.”
*******
10.p.m.
Mom and Dad were away at the hospital. My brother was downstairs, watching TV.
I had cleaned my room and arranged my things. I spent an hour looking at my memorabilia. After all, it was the last time I was seeing them.
I had already taken out an amount of the insecticide in a small bottle in the morning. I thought it would be enough to kill me.
Picking up my favourite pen, I sat down to write a suicide note addressed to my parents. After a few minutes of thinking, I titled it “last words.”
I wanted to tell them how angry I was at them, how much I hated them. They had made my life hell, constantly taunting me, reminding me that I was nothing but a failure. They had crushed my dreams. I felt suffocated, frustrated in their presence. I wanted to make them realize this through my death.
But I could not write any of these. Somehow my mind wouldn’t let me express. With great effort, I somehow managed to scribble. “I AM SORRY” was all I could manage.
I lit a cigarette.”My last smoke,” I smiled. Two years ago, I had read a story about a boy who wrote about his last cigarette in his suicide note. I t was ironical that I was in his position now.
With trembling hands, I picked up the bottle . I wanted to make it fast, so there was no chance of going back. In one swiping move, I gulped down a mouthful.
It tasted funny and familiar, I had read somewhere that poisons are bitter. But this was anything but bitter. “Probably because it is new,” I thought, recalling what the distributer had said.
I waited for ten minutes, but nothing happened. I gulped down another mouthful. I was beginning o feel something in my stomach, when my cell rang.
“Nita calling…”the screen showed.
I picked up , “Hello?”
“Hello? Madhav?” her voice was surprisingly soft, not like the cold one that I had become accustomed to of late.
“Yes.”
“I heard about Bineet, is he okay?”
“He is recovering, “ I lied. I wanted to cut the call.
“That’s great.”
“Okay” I signaled the end of the conversation.
“No, Madhav, wait. I need to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“I miss you Madhav.”
“Huh? That’s great.”
“No, I mean it, I mean I am sorry for hurting you so much. I still love you.”
“It’s too late, Nita.”
“No, Madhav, it’s never too late.. I know you love me, just say it!”
“I..”
“Yes, Madhav?”
“I smell something?”
“Huh?”
I indeed smelled something, something very familiar. It took me a second to realize that something was burning.
I turned around and my blood ran cold. The curtains were ablaze! During my conversation with Nita, I had inadvertently and very foolishly thrown the cigarette towards the window, not realizing that it was closed.
I splashed water frantically to douse the fire. But it only blazed even brighter. I checked what I had just thrown and realized to my horror that it was alcohol.
My whole room was now filled with thick smoke. I was screaming myself hoarse now, “ I did not plan to die this way.. I don’t want to this way!” I ran towards the door, but tripped onto something. In the next moment, I was out cold.
………………………….
I was chasing Nita amidst the woods. She was luring me into the forest, laughing at me and teasing me all the way. Finally, I caught her, and pulled her closer to me. She placed her slender finger on my lips and uttered “Madhav!”
“Yes.”
“Madhav.”
“Yes..”
“Madhav!”
I woke up with a start, to find my mother shaking me. The unpleasant odour of medicines filled my nose. I looked around, trying to fathom where on earth I was.
“You have been out for two days. Thank God, you’re back!” my mother hugged me tight, sobbing uncontrollably.
My father placed his hand on my head. He was speechless.
“What had happened? How did I..”
“You have thirty percent burns and ten stitches on your forehead,” my brother quipped.
“He saved your life son,” Dad ruffled his hair, “He heard your screams and came to your rescue.”
“What were you thinking?” my mother slapped gently, “how could you be so careless? You have disappointed us with your drunken habits.”
“Kavita, leave it for now. It’s not the time.”
So they had no idea of my suicide attempt. But how come they did not find the large bottle of insecticide?
……………………
“You don’t have to worry,” my brother said. Mom and dad had gone to fetch lunch.
“Excuse me?”
“They don’t know anything about the poison.”
“You knew it?”
“I found the insecticide the other day I was in your room. I knew you were up to no good. So, I replaced the small bottle with an identical one containing sugar water.”
My mind went numb. I did not know how to react. All my life I had considered my brother a nuisance. Now, he had just saved my life.
“Thanks.”
“Ya, Ya whatever.” He was back to his haughty self.
“By the way, what did you do with the big bottle?”
“I disposed of it in the garbage bin outside our house. By the way, Nita came to see you once. You were unconscious then..she asked me to give you this.”
As soon as I took it, a feeling of warmth seeped into my heart. It was a cute little “get well soon “ card.
“Nice,” I mumbled.
…………………..
“Momos for you..”
“Great!” I dug into my mom’s handmade delicacies.
“Bineet’s getting better. He woke up from his coma last night.”
I cried out in joy. Finally my old buddy was back. “Any other news?”
“Well Sharma’s down a little.” My father quipped.
“Why?”
“His dog took ill. He has been calling up every vet in the town. The dog is getting better though..”
“How did this happen?”
“Don’t know..the last time they saw the dog, it was rummaging the garbage bin.”
I looked at my brother. He simply shrugged his shoulders. I preferred not to say anything. Though my sympathies were with the dog, but I loved my bike too!

__END__