To death, you owe a life….

The rooms are painted cream. The double bed comfortable yet teasing my celibacy. The limpid window paints a scene out of our life. 

The precarious raindrops clinging to the pine, waiting for the gusty wind, so they find salvation. Roads meandering in zigzag pattern like the design on my sweater woven by you, Shamla. 

This reminds me of our Mahabaleshwar honeymoon. The scent of henna fresh on your palms, the coy smile, the credulous, shy hold of my arm; the first melting and wishing that time stands still. This too is a honeymoon; a sojourn to consummate abandoned desires.  

Meal times, bed times, walk times; everything chalked out, and I must follow it like my good old Don Bosco days. The perk of following all this is the WISH TIME. One wish fulfilled every day. 

Five days, I will celebrate five lifetimes!


Eat to live, relish to enjoy. 

Ahaaa…today I had puran poli with dollops of desi ghee melting on smooth, crispy sheets. The diabetic soul finds a silver lining in the dusk of life.  Must say, though I was doubtful of this wish to be fulfilled in the hills of Mussoorie, the commitment was kept and service duly offered. You know what? I have secretly filled some in my pockets too. 


Will watch the rain and lick the silver lining late into the night.


Fly to discover your wings…

 Gosh! The paragliding experience was surreal. Whooshing of wind, fluttering of avian wings; swaying of pines and bustling of clouds- Shamla, you would have written a bestseller on this. All I could do was to curse myself for making this wish. Ohooo, I still feel the buoyancy. Hold me heavens for the flight is still shattering me.


Forbidden pleasures; unfathomable life! 

Sorry Shamla, I shared your space with someone yesterday. Believe me, I’m guilty. But after you left, the desires refused to betray. No. No. She wasn’t as soothing and bestowing as you. Yet to be honest, it helped. Bodily desires do not regress with age. Sometimes, they make a Casanova out of you.    


Daughters are jewels shinning on the altar of a man’s heart…

Met Chanda. She was unhappy by the decision to sum up my life here. Her solicitous touch caressing my bare forehead, refusing to part ways. Cajoling her to set sail, reminded me of the little girl clutching tightly to my kurta, reluctant to board the school bus. Forcibly, I had to detach and cram her aboard. Today too, was no different, the goodbye as ever difficult.


Death is the road to meet you…

Today they have injected the first dose of the drug, into my already collapsing veins. My last wish to die peacefully will be soon fulfilled. I’m coming darling. Wear the kanjeevaram and I will be donning your favourite grey suit. This time it will be actually MARRIAGES MADE AND SOLMNESIED IN HEAVEN.

Good bye peeps.
Author’s note: This a fictitious take on euthanasia, being offered to those who wish to end their life peacefully. It’s a personal view and no binding on the readers to agree on the same.

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