And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown

This is something I have been putting off for the longest time. Norwegian Woods by Murakami – I’ve had the book for a really long time, but never read it, till last friday night, partly because I have no life, and I had lots of work to put off.

Saturday noon, I had finished the book, along with all my cigarettes and alcohol, and I was deeply affected. The tragedy was fresh in my mind, and I was despondent, depressed,  and dejected. And strangely happy.

I didn’t write about it immediately, because I wanted some time to think about it, and the tragic love story was fresh in my mind for me to do any sort of analysis.

Suicide and death is one of the central themes of the book, apart from Love and possibly mental illness. Suicide is shown as the easy way out, as well as the only way out.But it also shows how death is the easy way out for one character, but which has enduring affect on the living. The lives in the novel are changed for worse with the suicide. But natural death is shown as far more peaceful and liberating, maybe the suffering of a person in deathbed makes it easier for everyone to accept the death when it finally arrives.

The central character Toru is very detached from people surrounding him, and keeps himself inside a metaphorical wall. But this hits him harder when the pain is brought by the few people he has in his life. Its the Tragic Hero Syndrome which gets me, about the man who suffers much due to the things which are completely out of his control, which he cannot figure out with a logical and rational mind. There is no real closure to any death.

We can explain most of the things in our lives – hunger passion love affection hatred etc to the Evolution. But the sense of loss from the death of someone close, how do we explain it?



As I stared at the barrel, which was innocently staring back at my eyes, I finally realized what I was missing.

I could’ve not fallen in love. I could’ve not fallen in love with the most heartless bitch there ever was. I could’ve not promised her everything. I could’ve taught her the value of togetherness than the material things. I could’ve told her the concept of a home forever and not a momentary palace. I could’ve left her when she left me. I could’ve not wanted to have her back. I could’ve not gambled for money and lost everything. I could’ve refused to accept the heist job. I could’ve not taken the gun which was offered. I could’ve gone with my better instincts and checked the facts about the job myself. I could’ve been killed in the job. I could’ve surrendered and given the money back and asked for forgiveness. I could’ve not taken the money to her. I could’ve made her not spend the money immediately. I could’ve kept myself low and bought her the house, the car, the jewellery. I could’ve bailed. I could’ve blamed her, I could’ve told them where the money was, I could’ve called her to come with the rest of the money. I could’ve not been staring at the muzzle right now.
I could’ve but I did not. I lived my life, did my part, loved my girl, did my work, killed a few, stole a car, got jailed, did dirty work for dirty people, did even more dirtier work on cleaner people. I got stabbed, I went under the knife, I punched a cop, I got shit kicked out by my friends. There is nothing I did wrong, and I’ll die in peace.

I was missing the need to live. I did not mind dying right now.

I saw the slide move backward, I imagined the firing hammer getting ready, I imagined the bullet from the magazine sliding into the barrel, imagined rather than saw the trigger move, the hammer strike, the firing pin hit the cartridge, the explosion, and the bullet coming out of the barrel.
They say, your entire life flashes through your eyes the moment before you die. I beg to differ. It is not the entire life, its only the times when you were passionate about something that comes to your mind. The times of overt joy, the times of intense depressions, the time I was wild with anger, the time my mind was poisoned with hatred, the days of passionate love, all those moments when I saw something so beautiful that my heart ached, the cold beer after a days work, the first and the last cigarette…
Precisely then, at that instant, when I knew I was going to die, when I knew the bullet will go through my eyes hit my brains and explode inside my head, I realized I wasn’t ready. It is only pain from here on till the end. I wanted the pain to linger on, giving me some more time to experience those feelings I’ll never have, feel those emotions I will never feel, and relive those days that will never come. I would’ve happily traded more time for more pain, I don’t want it to end.

This ever so short excruciating pain, can you please linger on for some more time? There is so much mo…

Colors of India

Colors of India

Thanka chechi used to work in my Mom’s school in an unofficial capacity. Her husband is long since dead, and her only son kicked her out of her home. At 50, she is weak and homeless. My mom gets her to do odd jobs around the home. With her colorful blouse and toothless smile, she is wonderful to have around the home.