The Great Escape

The ‘blue devil’ in the thin glass capillary resembled the silent yet powerful demeanor of the ocean. The recondite power in the few milliliters of this magic fluid was beyond imagination. In the last 45 minutes that I had been wielding the lucent needle between my fingers, my hands didn’t falter, not even for a moment. I had always been a man of rectitude, endowment but mediocre eminence. I had never resented my decisions and never reneged after making a decision. But tonight, my worldly ties are making me weak. I have been through countless highs and lows but the tribulations of time and fate, had always failed to capitulate me. Tonight, I have succumbed to the adversities of my judgment. Tonight, I am shattered.. shattered by a squall of misfortune.
I sit here like a defeated man, alone in the dark, reckoning the fiscal benefits my daughter and her dejected mother will receive from my meager indemnification once I escape this brutal affliction of time… The anguish and agony of failing the hope I see in my daughter’s eyes when she looks into mine… The distress and desperation of seeing deceit reflecting in my wife’s eyes, which once shone with love and conviction. Their thought makes me want to renounce every thought of this escape, but the shame makes me want to opt for the easy way out. It is like a positive feedback loop. How could I ever look into their innocent eyes again, after loosing everything we had strived for to a flair of my instinct. I couldn’t… So I had to quit, take this Escape and make their lives easier.
~ .  ~
The morning rays escorted an unfortunate deliberation. Something was not right… Was it my little girl.. her condition had not been too good the last few weeks. We have been toiling and travailing for the last 3 years to save up and get her operated. An unsettling feeling was twitching and nudging at my insides. I could feel it in my bones. I was oblivious enough to ignore my missing husband in bed. There was very little chance that he woke up before I did. Maybe he didn’t come to bed last night at all. Last night I had left him perched amongst what seemed like a myriad of folders and documents, engrossed in relentless calculations. Over the past months, we had conceded over silence on keeping to our own turf. He had looked unusually confounded and flustered as if trying to resolve a fracas within himself. I had wished I could reassure and soothe him. But I was too tired..
As I strode into the sitting room, my heart was chilled but my palms were sweating. His limp body was reclined against the couch, as lifeless as a stone. His eyes, which usually expressed volumes, were void. The neighbours arrived, the police reached, his last rites were performed, but I didn’t shed a single drop of tear. I still wasn’t at terms with the truth… I couldn’t. How could he abandon me.. us. My mind kept seeking answers. What am I supposed to do? But my heart was evading the truth. My little girl hadn’t even set out on the journey of her life, and there she was, on the verge of its end. And what impetus does my life have if I couldn’t even grant her a chance. Relatives quarreling over the ancestral property, people talking about my husband’s debt, officials debating his insurance money, the public slander, all this was a frivolous and despicable farce for me. I was stoic, other than the deception of my husband and the inefficacy for my little girl. The only way to end this unending resentment and remorse was the Amobarbital they had found in my husband’s drawer. This would be my Escape.
~ .  ~
The strident shreiks of the alarm clock startled her awake. As she pushed the visions from the mind aside, instinctively she extended her hand to the side. A wave of utter relief dashed through her veins. But the horror hadn’t desisted her.. What was it?..  A Dream.. Or the Truth. Her eyes flew open and she gazed at the frozen figure beside her. He shared the same horrified look.
He wasn’t sure.. What had happened? A Dream.. The Truth.. As if interlaced by an invisible string, both walked to their little girl’s door in silence. The morning rays shining off her face, her rough but peaceful breathing and the calmness of her form rendered a fresh serenity to the sight before them. Appalled by the unsettled look in her eyes, he slipped his hand into hers. Despite his own horror, he felt the sudden need to comfort his wife. His moist palm clutching her hand was not just comforting, but assuring. Assurance that no matter what, he will fight with her until.. until they can commence every morning with this pristine sight. And he got the answer to the question that had been prying in his mind for the past days.. Endeavours? Or Luck?.. Strife? Or Chance? He could forsake everything.. but he couldn’t imperil his family.
~ .  ~
At that moment of truth, they both discerned that..
Life is a fight. And in life, Death is not an Escape.
~ .  ~

6 Opinions:

etymofreak said...

Brilliant as ever...How do u come up with stuff like this...everytime I read ur posts I feel I am so emotionally hollow :)

buckingfastard said...

liked the way u managed to reach a positive ending on a story topic which invariably ends on a sad note...interesting and a beautiful take on life... :)

The West Wind said...

@ etymo: Hehe.. U know.. I just think too much.. and then weird ideas strike :P

@ buckingfastard: Thank You very much :) I am glad you liked it

Makk said...


The West Wind said...

@ Makk: Nahin.. just had been awfully busy.. but back now :) How have u been?

Makk said...

i am doing gr8888...and roaming around..

so you got time..finally

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