The Discoveries. Episode I.

By

Syeda Ramsha Wasti & Ali Mehdi Zaidi

I am sitting at the counter, drinking tequila. Shot after shot. I have never tasted tequila before. People tell me its strong, I don’t see it. To tell you the truth, I don’t see the girl behind the counter. I don’t see the beautiful ceiling. I don’t see the magnificent furniture. I guess I am too lost. Too disappointed. No, no, not disappointed but destroyed. Yes that is the word: destroyed. Destroyed completely, blown to pieces. Every last ounce of hope shattered, thrown back in the jungle, left to be finished off by the vultures. Come vultures come. I don’t mind them coming. At least, I will not go to waste. At least someone would be happy. No, but I am happy too. Happy to be finished, happy for the end. There is no purpose to live so I wait. Wait for the axe to drop. Wait for the end. I am enjoying my tequila. Well, not enjoying but gulping and sipping. I take a sip and wait. Wait for the right time. As soon as it comes, I’ll pay the girl and walk to my home. But maybe I shouldn’t pay her. But what well would the money bring to me? I’ll pay her more. Maybe she has a child, maybe she is lucky. Who knows!? I’ll walk home to the peace, and quiet.

I still have a decision to make; one last decision. The most important decision. Well, not important, but the most defining one. One that sets my legacy. The gun in the drawer, the acid in the cabinet or a jump from the roof? I can’t decide. It’s so confusing. I think it’s the alcohol. Yes, it’s the alcohol. Take gun, load it, put it in your mouth, pull the trigger, boom - short and simple. I like it. No pain and no wait. I hate waiting. But there would be a mess, a splash of brain on the wall. Someone would have to clean it up. Who? Grab the acid, open the lid, drink it...ah, but there’s a wait. I don’t want to wait. Sorry acid, you’re unable to help. Don’t worry though; I know how you feel. That is all that I wanted to do as well: help. This is my punishment- the jump.  A long walk to the roof, then jump. It would be fast, but I am not in the mood to walk. No, not today. Today is my day, my holiday.

What does a jump show? It tells nothing. Maybe it was an accident. It puts everything in doubt. I don’t want any more doubts. No, no doubts, not about my, Sui…, Ah, I can’t say that word, A shot to the head, then. It shows intent. It would be my decision, my death. It’ll let the world know about my disappointments, my frustrations.

I am sitting at the counter, drinking tequila. I have made a decision- a shot to the head. I am gulping my tequila too fast now. The girl behind the counter is looking at me. Looking at me with a look of disgust, or maybe it's pity? Maybe she’s laughing at me? I don’t care. Laugh all you want, losers. Yes, you are all losers. I am the winner; the smart one. I found a way out, a short cut. While you wait for the miseries to slowly erode you, while you wait to get old and die helplessly, I have found a way. I will die my way on my terms. I am happy.

It’s my fifth shot now. I am seeing everything now including the girl behind the counter. Beautiful she is, but deceptive, very deceptive. The beauty is a mask for the horrors that lie beneath. It always is. Bait thrown by the prey, tempting, alluring, inviting, but as soon as you move in, the real face erupts out of the shadow to reveal the horrors. I don’t care anymore. I see the ceiling as well. It's glorious. The design and finishing are just breathtaking. I won’t miss it though. This is my final shot. Sixth, that is. As soon as I finish, I’ll head home for the finale of my life. I rotate the straw in a circular motion as if mixing, but there is nothing to mix. It seems the beautiful design that is forming is begging me not to do it, but alas, I will. Can’t you understand all is lost?

 I am sipping the last drops now. The liquid is unwilling to leave the glass, unwilling to let go of the embrace. It is making that noise-a cry I always thought about . A cry I choose to ignore. As the lost drops go down my throat and as I get up to leave, I feel a hand on my shoulder. A firm yet gentle hand followed by a whisper in my ear from an authoritative and determined voice; the kind you would expect from a four star general. “Don’t do what you’re about to do”. My first impulse is to run, to hit the man and run, run as far away as I can. I don’t know why, but I stay. What can possibly go wrong? The worst he can do is, kill me, in which case he’d be doing me a big favor. He can’t change my mind. No, not after what I’ve gone through. I turn around to look at the man. His countenance is divine. A man of no more than fifty, he has a white beard but he looks young and energetic. He has a spiritual presence, an almost therapeutic touch that only adds to his charm. Quite frankly, I am over-whelmed by his personality. “You’re closing the book too early”, he says.  He then stares in my eyes, probing, discovering. It seems as if he is reading my darkest secrets, my most inner thoughts. I want to turn away, to stop myself from being unlocked but I can’t. I can’t turn away. After ages, the man, as if satisfied by the proceeding s thus far, walks away.  

I am perplexed by this meeting with the stranger. Who is he? how did he know about my intents? Should I listen to him?