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Arivazhagan Subbarayan

Tragedy


4  

Arivazhagan Subbarayan

Tragedy


A Soul's Diary...!

A Soul's Diary...!

5 mins 51 5 mins 51

I don't know why I am writing this. Alex Michaelides started his novel 'The Silent Patient' with the same sentence. That might have been imprinted in my subconscious. May be I want to tell you something about my life. I don't even scribble in my diary. My writing skills are very poor. I don't even want to teach a lesson to society. I know the society itself is growing in its own way, right or wrong God only knows! The main problem with me is I can't keep any secrets with me. The secrets are something you have to bury in the depth of your memory. Though I kept some thoughts in the depth, they keep emerging from there to take a breath now and then. Taking a breath usually will make them alive! Once they become fully well alive, they drag you wherever they go!


You may think,'god damn it, what is this blabber? Why can't this fellow come to the point right now?' I am sorry for wasting your time and effort. I can't think straightly, because I am in a state of severe depression. I can't control the turmoil inside my head. I hope, now you may understand my feelings! By only writing all these things, like journaling, I somehow able to tell my story. 'Journaling is important for recovery' the psychiatrists often say! Don't they? Okay, let me tell my story.


On Friday evening I killed myself. Don't have that 'oh my God! That's awful' feeling! Lots of people took their own lives for too trivial reasons. Didn't they? Again comes Alex Michaelides! He started the first chapter with the sentence 'Alicia Berenson was thirty-three years old when she killed her husband' What a coincidence! l was also thirty-three years old when I took my life! The only difference is I didn't kill anyone. In fact, I saved many lives!


I was born in a small remote village. My family didn't earn much to live comfortably. Though from a poor family, l was a cheerful person, made so many friends in my neighborhood. My folks are very good people. Even with their tiny earnings, they often help the needy people. People in our village respect our family very much. I was very good in academics. Don't think I am bragging. Don't the achievers brag themselves sometimes? I actually scored a state rank in the plus two exams! My dad frequently advised me to become a doctor. In his eyes, the doctors are like gods! These are the only people really saving other people. So, I decided to take medicine and I passed my MBBS with flying colors!


I need to take some respite because I am not able to speak coherently. This is not like a rehearsed speech or something. I have to streamline my thoughts now and again. This may be a boring task for you all to read this irksome monologue. I'm not able to tell my story humorously. Sorry bear with me this time only. I won't bother you again. Once, I visited Ramana maharishi's ashram at Thiruvanamalai. After that, I started reading his teachings. There I found the answer to the spiritual question 'who am I?'

I am not the senses, body, or as Sigmund Freudian theory, not even the thoughts. Then what is the real 'me'? (When I am trying to tell you about the 'real me', I am not responsible, if that comedian Nithyanantha comes to your mind). So, I will find the real 'me' only after negating all the three, the senses, the body, and the mind! There lies the real 'me', what is called, the essence, the soul, The God! That's the real 'me'! You all might have known this already! Oh my God! Where I left?


Yes, I passed medicine and I got a job at the local PHC. I really worked hard because I actually enjoyed my job. Saving people gave me a sense of fulfillment. I really believed that I found the real purpose of my life. When I saw the feeling of relief on the patients' faces, I felt a peculiar sense of calmness inside myself. That was a wonderful experience. I couldn't find any words to express it.


Days were running smoothly. Then suddenly a pandemic called covid19 hit the world. I had to screen the patients for the confirmative tests. I did my duty with such a fervent enthusiasm. After all, as a doctor, my duty is to save the people! I kept on saying to myself whenever I felt like getting tired.


One fine morning, I fell sick maybe because of hundreds of viruses in that hilly remote village. I had a fever and severe myalgia. I was admitted to a hospital. I was not responding to any treatment. My organs shut down one by one. Suddenly, I was liberated. Oh my God! This is the 'real me'! I finally found myself! I was ecstatic! The nest in which I did dwell was wrapped and kept inside a box.


On that particular Friday, my body was taken to my village for the cremation. I sadly thought about the people in my village. I should have maintained my body to live some more years and treat these people. Suddenly, a crowd appeared at the entrance of my village. I felt very happy to see the people, I had treated. 'They might have come to pay their final respect to the body' I thought. Suddenly, the people shouted and protested against the body entering the village. Oh my God, these are the very same people, who were very friendly and respectful when the body was alive and walked as a doctor!


I saw my mom cried and begged the people to allow the body for its final ritual. The crowd refused vehemently. No one in the crowd was helpful to my mother. She ran into my house and tried to commit suicide. My God, someone saved her.


At that moment, I killed myself, the essence, the soul, God!


Disclaimer: This story is not based on any real events.


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