In loving memory of...

the living

 

 

Dear you

It felt good to throw the last bit of dust on your face, as you lay yourself down in your coffin and went to eternal sleep. I would even say it was fun watching you dig your own grave, slowly. If you were Snow-white, someone, some really kind soul, might have made the effort to come, dig and plant a life-saving kiss. But since all you did was live with pain and gift the same to everyone, we are all relieved that you are no more.

You are not yet dead, you scream. You sure? Did we bury you alive? Oh but you did that, didn’t you. 

 Actually, you died a long time ago. But among so many zombies, one might have mistaken the red-light shining on your cheek to have been a sign of life.

You died each time you lied, to yourself and someone else. And hurt another. And then, slow stabs kept propelling you towards the inevitable. Perhaps you want to end it all, start afresh, erase the karma. But why would you think, in the kingdom of the Lord, you would get preferential treatment? Because you go to the Church and don’t eat meat on Tuesdays? Cute.

You made a choice.You chose to lie, hurt, divide and cheat so you could make a few bucks or friends. If everybody basically wants the same things in life- happiness, security, love- what makes you more deserving of those things than another. You protect yourself and your own greedily, building fences and castles of twisted lies, never pausing to give a thought to those you destroy in the wake of your futile ambition.

It is said ‘good guys finish last’. They probably have a lower mortality rate because their conscience keeps them healthy, so they live longer. Good girls? They graduate with more marks than you and qualify to great occupations. They become ‘wives’! Woohoo! The ‘bad’ ones, the ones that-smoke, drink, have a career or male friends, wear short skirts-are manufactured for your visual and sexual pleasure you think. Among the zombies, you thought the right to distribute character certificates has been bestowed upon you. Did they teach you to spell ‘hypocrite’ at your esteemed college?

Tsk tsk.

Do you even recognize the bottomless well of your own grief? This grief that makes you drink each evening, smoke without a break, perform mental masturbation every time you spot a skirt and buy senseless toys. You feel no guilt you say. Really? But you choose to self-destruct every day. Baby steps to doom. Why, it’s measurable, just like ‘fairness’ on the fairness meters that come with them creams nowadays.

You are you. You separated yourself from the rest of the cosmos in such a grandiose way, that when you spiraled towards your own death, you didn’t even notice. Sadly, neither did we. Because you need therapy for you to become human. Because you are you. You are your ego,car,bungalow,type2 diabetes,political party, award, cricket score,degree,trophy wife,pedigree-d dog,Ipad9. You are all of these things, but hardly you. On a lonely night, a retarded sad song can make you cry. And will. Because you are you, you are lonely. You rejected the limitless bounty of the Universe in favour of your ego. And unfortunately, you are doomed to seek outside of yourself, for eternity. Till one day, you hurt another in a manner so grave, that your conscience commits suicide and leaves your body which is depreciating at the rate of a second hand car. Then you become an eternal dweller on the planet of the living-dead. Always famished, never happy.

But we don’t hate you. We ‘nothing’ you. (The opposite of love is apathy). 

Alright, occasionally, perhaps we feel sorry.Look here,so much word-space is wasted. This is your epitaph, your parting gift, your goodbye. Because you don’t even know yet…

In your case, your body is your coffin.