Can one die of happiness? Absolute, unaltered, unmeddled happiness. When one experiences such sublime a phenomena, one ceases to exist. Yes! One ceases to exist in the material plane. If not, one is inclined to. One is inclined to transform this moment’s flash into a living, breathing eternity. Would you call me mad?
Do you see him? Moving past the sweating bodies, in an underground tunnel, towards the light? Look closely.
Stepping out of the shadows of the metro station, Rick hurried along the Mahatma Gandhi Road. He glanced at his watch, praying that it wasn’t 11 yet. He couldn’t afford to be late. She had made herself sufficiently clear on the phone, “Be there at 11 am sharp. One minute more and I’m going home”. He knew she wasn’t joking.
These were alien territories, which annihilated his powers of approximating distance from time. All he could do was hurry. He took out his phone and fired up Google maps, “5 minutes to Indian Coffee House”. He knew Google estimates were as reliable as his anxiety infested mind during exams. He moved ahead.
The scenery that unfolded before him was a peculiar one, not unknown, but still peculiar enough to give rise to disgust, with a tinge of curiosity. The footpath lined with slums reeked with the stench of poverty and fornication. Dirty, half naked children playing on the pavement while luxury cars zoomed past on the road beside. They seemed to have accepted each other as an integral part of their ecosystem.
The place Google pinpointed turned out to be a cluster of mini book stores consisting of grumpy owners with unapproachable faces. He reached the entrance after asking almost everyone on the way for directions. Mistakes were a luxury he couldn’t afford.
He triumphantly dialed her number to announce his arrival.
“Wow! You reached in time”, a sweet melodious voice replied from the other end.
“Wait, I’m coming”
She was a weird puzzle, abhoring him and being loving at the same time. Shrieking away when he held her dupatta from bathing in dirt and sniffing him to compliment his perfume at the same time. Her innocent face being rouged by gigantic earrings, taking offence when placed the lock of hair behind her ear to adore them. Wouldn’t let him hold her hand but hugged him momentarily, uniting two souls, driving them to the edge of mimicking the moment of creation.
She arose in him some indecent, primitive creature, shook him out of his hibernation, to forcefully kiss her lips. But she was not offended, nor was she pleased. Neither she indulged him nor did she restrict. What kind of sorcery is this?
Standing on the platform, while he contemplated his dull, depressing parade of a life, he could swear, at that moment, right there he was at the top of the world. He had never been happier in his life, and he would chase the rest of his future in the hope of recreating this moment of happiness. Or he could stay in this moment, forever, for all eternity. He could live, by dying.
The incoming train did not know what it hit, suddenly a splash of red on the windshield. That moment, right there, he had lived life to the fullest. He was alive.