The Last Day
I got up from my cubicle to go to restroom. To look at me in the toilet mirror for the last time and tuck in my shirt properly, turning around, for the last time. I had made choice finally and I took out the last nerve of the gut to hold up this decision. That I wanted to do, that which I speak about, think about and not have done anything about it until now. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted time, escape, adventures and not boring day job. Well, I’d tried like a coward so far. Let me lift myself up with confidence which appears like that fear would appear for no reason, in the same amount. I stood in front of the mirror, saw nothing that has changed from past few years. I was stuck in delirium. I was a staggering fool speaking of fantasies. I was unable to act on my words. I was a failure so far. But not now. I have nothing holding me back. I’m all free to go.
Then the staff manager came into the washroom, said hello to me, in the mirror. I greeted him too. He smiled and started to talk when I asked about his lunch. He had his lunch late at 3:30pm. He told he wasn’t like this in the previous company, that he would eat at correct time. He repeated it. His words fumbled while coming out. He continued things, six months I didn’t come out, he said and I asked him twice to be clear that he was isolated for six months inside a room not eating much and not communicating with any of his relatives or friends, he would throw things if they came to talk. But his mother alone took care of him. Forced him to eat sometimes. He told she would cry thinking of his plight. He told he was in depression because his wife had passed away two years back, I was stunned for a moment, I thought I might have asked a curious question with embarrassment of poking his personal life. But he went on, he also told about his wife being pregnant and nothing about the child. His eyes grew cold red, his lids came close and lips wide apart to show that miserable smile. He told was there was nobody for him apart from his wife. Now his mother. But now, nobody orders to do things in his life. It’s my choice now, he said. I stood there without a clue of what to tell him. I was just repeating ‘It happens. But things will get fine.’ in different volumes of my voice and sometimes one sentence alone. I was wondering what to tell. I was a silent listener that time.
He leaned back to the wall adjacent to the mirror with hands back, his face suddenly had that genuine smile remembering the days of his youth, days before the marriage, that he had will to do anything he wanted, he said he had that damn spirit always ready and awaiting to burn. He mentioned his other three or four friends with whom he’d enjoy lot. He would go for night shift work and work for part time during day and wouldn’t sleep much. I was observing that face, his eyes had a paradise of hell inside, but he turned out that into a smile of his own. He created it. He took out all the pain, suffering, hunger and everything into something useful, though he knew he’d lost everything. He was interrupted suddenly by a staff, so he went away. I came out thinking. I wondered about me, who’s playing in safer side of bet in life with undone dazzling dreams. I was done now. No choices. Just one way ahead and I will get there, I thought and left the office, for forever.
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