Suicidal Instincts

Every country has laws. Three laws are constant among all. All nations. All men.

• Man shall not kill any other man.
• He shall not kill himself.
• He shall not put in danger the life of another man.

The three rules of human existence. More like the three rules for robots that science fiction harps on.’

‘Any man, when asked, concurs with the piety of the view for the greater good of humanity and world. Synchronous terms they are, world and humanity, for them. But it takes a deep mind to spot the actual…’

The waitress’ emergence disturbed my flow of thoughts. An espresso it was. Double. Quite sour, actually. The dark drink flowed over my tongue, through my mouth and I felt it passing through my oesophagus. An effect of pure science. The taste buds were activated. Brain received the signals from them. And a sour taste I felt, that of the coffee, on my tongue.

It was just a signal from the brain. All it needed was an alteration in the brain to make it taste sweet. Placing the cup on table, I looked into the Chinese cup with stern detailing given to the artwork, at the five-star hotel. I preferred my evening drink at the restaurant rather than at the sober room of mine on the third floor.

My mind drew itself to the thought that I had left behind before as I started relishing the sapid taste on my tongue.

‘With those rules in mind, men are born, they live, or more precisely, exist and die. The only exception to these rules is the state. The government. The law. It alone reserves the right to kill a person. The real reason for prohibiting murders and suicides can only be understood upon keen analysis of the same.’

A couple came in making a little too much noise between their intimacies. Their happy and smiling faces assured that they were ignorant of the travails of the world. A nerve of mine twisted as I tried to look at them. It only made my mood worse.

‘People just don’t kill others directly. Their actions kill many indirectly. What wrong did a person born in Africa do to suffer all his life despite the hard work put forth by him all through his life? Not many among other nations can live a day doing his work and feeling his pain. What great deed did a person born in a developed nation do to live his whole life in luxuries that escape a hard worker in the third world? Isn’t there even a single person in the developed nation who doesn’t deserve the luxuries he has been bestowed with?’

‘Why should this man in Africa be in the dark about the technologies of the developed nations? Why do not nations share their technology with other nations? Is it because they are afraid of other nations overtaking them and becoming supreme? What do you do when you come to that spot? Number 1. Push over the petty nations for money, land and oil.’

My hands were trembling as the thoughts poured without a break. The waitress walked past my table looking deep into my heart. The poor woman must have felt cheated. The chances that she guessed my intentions were too negligible. The coffee in my hand had spilled. I took the tissues placed on the table to wipe it off and continued.

‘Why isn't there any substitute for oil? If the amount spent to extract and then convert crude oil into petroleum had been invested on research, many new alternatives would have existed. Some greedy capitalist probably lobbies for Oil Companies, so that they all remain wealthy. After all, weren't there people who produced arms and induced wars among nations to make profit in the Century of War?’

The cup was empty and the waitress came to clear the table. I asked for the bill and stared around the restaurant. There were few takers for the morning breakfast in this part of the world. At least at this hotel. Not many had come down to the restaurant. ‘War.’ My eyes fixed over a photograph hung on the wall of the restaurant. The photo showed a big zeppelin with some description below it boasting the massive machines men had built while it should be signifying shame.

‘Billions have been spent on war and armaments to kill people while the amount spent to keep people alive in the third world is alarmingly negligible. Despite an international body to uphold peace, love and peace have become almost non-existent. Many people envy their neighbours and plot against their co-workers. Who bothers about that unrelated anonymous person standing next to you? Who bothers about his survival and sufferings? If we are not bothered about this person, why would we be bothered about that poor person in an anonymous country in Africa, Asia and America, who earn not even a single unit of currency a day despite his hard work all through the day?’

‘A person in Africa earns not even a dollar a year, while in developed states people's entertainment costs runs over billions. Millions are being spent on a sports star. Isn't a life in Africa worth even hundred dollars an year? People are happy to spend in thousands to watch a sport at a stadium but cry the hell out of their lives to give something to another man. Countries are ready to spend millions for space exploration but they are crying to spend to save the world from pollution. They are crying to spend even a small percentage of what they spend to destroy the Ozone. Doesn’t this ultimately equal to people killing others?’

The waitress produced the bill. The coffee was blasphemously dear. Selling price, at these high profiled hotels, are so high mainly because of their brand value and image despite their poor quality and taste, yet people come here to have one, for the non-existent entity called ‘Status.’ I took my wallet out and placed the tender of the bill with some tip for the waitress as customs demand, for her shrill look at me moments ago.

‘Money. People have fought, killed and committed suicides over these unworthy notes of paper and fibre. Such innocent looking artefacts, these things make or break a person. Selfish people still make up most part of this world. Some realise it and some do not realise it.’

I checked my pockets for the room key and proceeded towards the lift. It was at my floor. Boarding it and pressing the button, I noticed the couple beside me glaring at me. They probably had not brought a paper and pen with them for an autograph. I couldn't smile at them. I just proceeded as soon as my floor came.

‘It is for this same reason that people put barriers on murders and suicides. Selfishness. What will happen if the person murdered turns out to be the next Einstein? What will happen if the person committing suicide finds out something so precious that it would save the world? People. Always expecting others to help others and themselves. They are seldom ready to take up the mantle and support others but critique every person who comes forward to help.’

‘In the end, they all say that no man has the right to end life but knowingly or unknowingly they do just the same and kill others and force them to commit suicide. So much for living in this world.’

As I opened the door to my room my mind wavered over the decision I had made.

‘Maybe I should try to continue writing. It might affect the world.’

But another voice lapsed over it. ‘No. There is not much you can do now. All that is left is for you to die. Better sooner than later. Such a high profile death will surely rock the world. All thanks only to the last literary award.’

I walked into my room and fell down on the bed. Red stain spread over the pillows. I closed my eyes to sleep resting assured that the media would take care of things from where I left. A sleep that would take me past all the agony and the travails of the world.

THE END
(quite literally)

Thank you all for your repeated visits. I have taken a long break from this blog but your continuous readership makes me to continue my works. If not for you all, I know not how my life would have gone through the changes it has gone through.

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