Death


What if I want to die tomorrow. What if I love death?
You must be thinking I am mad. Who can possibly love death? Death needs to be dread. How can it be loved? But, I am not like anyone. I want to feel death. Not through other people but through me. How would it be to touch death ? To see it. To admire it. To even detest it.

Long ago, not very long, just three months back I used to go to college daily by passing through a shamshan ghat, a crematorium. It was never left deserted. It was always full of people. Wearing white clothes. Crying. Sad. Some consoling. It always brought back the memory of my haunted past. My past which still haunts me. A nightmare. A past which forced me to face death. Twice. In a period of twenty days. Twenty days.

One night I had a dream. A dream in which a house was breaking. Falling apart. The day brought hours of restlessness. Then night. Again. Restlessness. Depression. Then next day.
Death.

That was not the first time. Suddenly I remembered a dream. I saw, long time back… My school. Women wearing white clothes. Crying. Howling. After a month.
Death.

Twenty days. Those twenty days were period of depression. Lot of crying. Then after.
Death.

But, this death brought a calmness. A silence. A calm, soothing sleep.

How fascinating is death? One person, who was talking to you before, playing with you, suddenly dies? What exactly happens? When our body is considered a machine, how and why does it stops functioning ? Why can’t a person be brought back? Why can’t this machine be made to re-function ?

These unsolvable questions always attract me to death.
To love Death.
What if I die tomorrow?

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