I could see him.
He stood there, over the bridge, all quiet, calm and alone.
I sat on the bench observing him in silence, as the breezy night began to elevate.
It was cold, the weather, and I loved it like this.
It was just him and me there.
I had never seen him here before, considering that, I have been here since past 20 years.
He looked young. Maybe in his teens.
He had his fist clutched tightly.
I wondered what he was doing there all alone so late after hours of darkness.
I could see his face rather clearly, even though the dim streetlight was flickering every now and then.
He seemed to be sad. I could sense it. Don’t know why, but somehow I could feel why he was there.
He was crying. The gleaming of the tears on his cheeks was hard to miss. It was quite depressing to see him like that.
He opened his clenched fist to reveal something that looked somewhat like a balled up sheet of paper. He removed a pen from the chest pocket of his shirt and began scribbling something on the paper.
Now, my doubts culminated into fact.
I knew why he was there.
He came there to search death.
He removed a small plastic zip pouch from his pocket and placed the now carefully folded piece of paper in it. He put it back in his shirt pocket.
He kept trying to bring himself to do it.
I could see that he was in two minds.
Here, I wanted to go and help him out, help him come out of it, debarring him from taking such a step, but somehow, I do not know why, I kept holding back.
I wanted to see what was to happen next. I hated myself for it.
He held the rim of the bridge tightly.
Tears coming out liberally from his eyes.
And suddenly he broke into a smile.
I could feel what was running through his head maybe.
Perhaps he was thinking about the joy when his father first brought him a toy car. Perhaps about, when his mother cooked his favorite dish after he came exhausted from school. Maybe he was thinking about the gleeful moments he spent with his friends.
Nevertheless, the grimness of the circumstances created such an impact on him, that maybe all these memories could not help him escape from it.
I could feel and sense the dilemma he was in. I could relate to his sadness, his smiling amidst all of this.
I could now see him take a leap across the railings of the bridge. He was preparing to jump. He could hear the sudden burst of sob from his heart.
He didn’t want to do it. I could sense it all.
As he prepared to jump, I could feel myself moving in his direction. I do not know why, but I knew why doing this wouldn’t help him.
I reached behind him, with me facing his back.
Maybe he didn’t realize I was behind him.
I called out to him.
He paid no heed.
Next, I tried tapping on his back.
As I went to tap him, my hand passed through his shoulder as if he never existed.
Why did that happen, was this a dream. I tried doing it again. The fate was the same. I tried pinching myself as to realize if this was a dream, but I could feel the sharp pain of the pinch on my hand.
I didn’t know why was this happening. I tried feeling myself. I moved my hands through my hands and legs. Something felt my hand when I moved it across my trousers.
What was it?
I brought what I felt in my pocket into my vision.
It was a piece of an old, crinkled piece of paper, all balled up.
I opened it and it read-
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12th February 1980
I am sorry dad and mum, bhai and Dev da.
I never meant to do this.
I love you and always will.
In your memories.
- Shekhar
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I could feel myself sad, but still smiling.
20 years back, I had done it. Done what this boy was taking so long to do. I was in the very same position as this boy today.
Amidst all these chaotic thoughts of mine, I heard a splash.
I looked in the front.
The boy was no longer there.
Even though I was no longer a life, still I felt a piercingly painful emotion.
Why didn’t I stop him?
I had achieved nothing out of this, 20 years back. Nothing but the guilt that, I shunned away from the situations like a coward. Left nothing, but the people I loved the most, in deep grief.
Suddenly I felt a tap on my back. It was the boy, smiling at me.
I felt like slapping him hard for what he had just done.
Still, I stood there staring at him, responding to the smile with mine.
The breezy night continued its journey, just that now I had someone with me, maybe now a companion to enjoy this cold space with….
