Unwrapping the shroud

Life is funny. Perhaps because you discover good things at the very end. Or choose to look deeper only when you haven’t got much time left with you. I have been spending every hour since last three months , trying to enjoy every little thing that life is throwing at me. Lying on my bed, with not much room for body movement, I feel so claustrophobic. With every little part of your body turning stiff, there isn’t much you can do but recollect. Think. Of all my hits and misses. Why I was here and what really did I manage to accomplish. Wonders me how I have never ceased from evaluating myself through my inner eyes. It makes me sad to think that I am all set to lose the lengthy conversation sessions I used to have with myself.

I have my cousin , Pikku, who would do all the writing for me. Young that he is, he used to spend quite sometime in front of his computer– before my illness chipped in to cramp his indulgence. I reckon he cares for me. It is so funny and awkward when people praise or pull your leg right in your face. So while I narrate to him all this, in broken sentences, I can see his eyes gradually swelling up with tears. He has been a tough lad, all this time. He has been holding his guard against all debilities ever since he started making his rounds here. This is more of a soliloquy than anything. At least, I intended it to be like that before a thought rushed through my mind, forcing me to change the whole philosophy behind this business.

One thing I have realized is that when your end draws nigh, you have got a lot of things to say. You can go on and on, and yet the river of thoughts refuses to stay behind the shaky walls of your mind. I am sure Pikku would find it difficult to wade through my wordy discourses. He would have given in but it is one pretty favor he has decided to award this dying man. Perhaps some divine design has intervened to confer him with more strength and pity!

I am not going to disclose who I am. For reasons more than one:

1) Death confers anonymity. It’s my dress rehearsal before I enact my final scene. A touch of Shakespeare here, but it is so difficult to preclude his effect from my school of thoughts.

2) I don’t want my final days to get all the glare and turn into a jocoserious melodrama.

3) Because my views are more important than my name.

Every one around me here, sitting in and outside my room know who I am. I admit that the thought of death is a bit discomforting. Some days , I have seen people from my locality come in swarms and mull over my inevitable, impending demise. I must say that it feels good when people want you to live and enjoy your stay. It gives a whole new meaning to your very existence. It evaporates all your vexed notions in thin air.

I would try to remain regular. But I was never the one with the gift of the gab. Illness has further impaired my fluency. I am speaking from last 45 minutes or so and yet the thing is far from complete. Pikku writes slowly and finds it difficult to discern some of my words. Also I must not be heavily numb or else everything can go all awry. Medicines taste bitter. They induce sleep which lately I have come to hate like anything. If Pikku gets embroiled in college chores or something, then posting would be impossible. But then, he looks at me( as I say this) with a complaining eye. He seems to assure me that he would keep everything on the back burner, just to let me speak out to you. I am giving him a telepathic vibe of heartfelt gratitude.

P.S :: I won’t really employ any jargon to hide myself. Partly because I am incapable of applying any jugglery anymore. And also because Pikku is a teeny wee small in age to even know how to counter-attack the artifice of computer wizards. If you really look hard for me, you would find me if I have yet not exit the scene. But I wish I could masquerade into someone so invisible that he could only be heard but never seen. I have always regarded invisibility to be the closest kin of oblivion. And death is pure oblivion.

Pikku is pestering me to allow him to garnish this blog a little. He wants to put up a few pictures. He wants my epitaph to look presentable. Doesn’t matter much to me anyway! If he violates some copyright rules in the process, blame me. Look for me in the dark with your torches . But find me not before I am dead.

Also, the whole coherence of thoughts might be missing. I am having Pikku write everything , as and when something appears on the canvas of my mind. Also the grammar can make you all dizzy . But then, Life ain’t got any grammar either!