Regret

“No, I can’t.” Preeti had said. The only feeling Rahul had after that was of relief. All the uncertainty had gone. There was a finality to what she had said. The End. His life was of no consequence anymore and so he was going to end it. Simple.

He had already decided that he would hang himself. It was much simpler and since the Supreme Court of India used that method, who was he to argue about its efficiency. The rope was easy to find from the hardware store, the fan and the chair were already there in his house. He didn’t want his corpse to stay unfound, decomposing and smelling so he decided to do it the next day earlier in the morning. That way his milkman, dhobi, bai etc. would realize something was wrong when the door wasn’t answered the whole day.

He had believed the night would be sleepless and his mind would be a whirlwind of memories and thoughts about the 28 years he had spent on earth but he slept quite soundly, it was probably because his mind wasn’t supposed to think anymore. Rahul was an average urban Indian man. So average that he was convinced no one would miss him, not even his parents. He was the most useless of five siblings, struggling writer, barely able to pay his rent, they wouldn’t mind if he was gone. His father would have one less person to boss upon and that thought satisfied Rahul. No one at work would care. He was an assistant to the assistant scriptwriter. They would find someone else to carry their tea.

Preeti was the only reason he was going on but now she had refused his proposal for the fourth time. They had been together for four years, she would miss him for sure. She would regret refusing him, feel guilty for his death and that would be his reward. He would watch from above as she pined away for him.

He got up in the morning and made a good breakfast of omlette, toast and coffee. He had a bath, put on a clean shirt and jeans, combed his hair and sprayed the deodorant generously. It took under ten minutes to set up the chair under the fan, loop the rope through the fan and tighten the knot. He switched off his cellphone and put the landline phone on answering machine.

Rahul gingerly climbed the chair and put the loop around his neck. Taking a long breath he gave the chair a fierce kick. His body jerked and his lungs called for air. His ears started to ring and after a few seconds, a faint voice fell on them, “Rahul, are you there? Its me, Preeti, listen, I am sorry about everything … I want to ask you something. Rahul, will you marry me?”

His body stopped jerking, his eyes bulged out and as the last breath was squeezed of out his body, he muttered, “No, I can’t.”

Author's Note

Dhobi - laundryman
Bai - housemaid

Reviews

[Marie]

How dreadful. He ended his life too soon.That is why such a young person should never consider suicide.

I am curious about your name. Tejas means Texas in Spanish, and that's where I live.

[Tejas]

Thank you for your review. The story is based on a true incident I came across some years ago.
read moreThank you for your review. The story is based on a true incident I came across some years ago.

My name means brightness. The word "Tej" in Hindi (India's national language) means light. The "j" is pronounced as J as in English and no J as in Spanish.