Section 309

Rendezvous , crystal ,solemn blue .

How to write a note with these words…a suicide note. After all these were his favourite words.

His favourite Virginia Woolf had committed suicide, after writing a romantic suicide note to her husband. She had her favourite words. Sky, lilac, thought, party, pond, pebbles, water.

He said to himself,” I am sane, unlike Septimus Warren Smith. I am satisfied. I go to office everyday. People like me. I like them in return. I want to write a suicide note.”

. “I have Premonitions. Yes a film by the same name was made.”

He had listed his premonitions once:

1      . A car crashing into his body, while he would cross a road.

2.          A car ripping his head from his body; just when he wanted to have a breath of air from the confines of a    yellow taxi.

            The gas burner …

4        The CPU exploding due to overuse

5        The elevator crashing

The note had to be written. It was something he had deferred for some time thinking that great things would happen to him. He thought again, about a reason. He knew there would be assumptions.  A failed relationship and a broken heart? (“Preposterous” he thought. Yes, Preposterous another word he liked. It had to find a place in his note.)

He had heard of different kinds of death notes. Some would blame husbands or mother-in-laws or lovers or teachers or failures. Different people, different reasons. But he couldn’t think of a reason. All he knew was that, his death, should not give inconvenience to anyone.”

He took a pen and tore a piece of paper from his notepad. One of his friends, who had hung himself to death, had written “I so and so... Died at 4 am.” When the note was discovered, they called the dead guy, crazy. Alas! The family still bears the stigma.

But if his friend would have failed to kill himself, he would have been arrested under Section 309; attempt to commit suicide. “The law is funny, that Manipuri lady is re-arrested each year under 309, because she refuses to eat. 309 … 3+9= 12; 12 months in a year. It’s June.

“Too much of thoughts. The brain has its ways of deferring a suicide. Nice and clever.”

 He realised that he had finished writing his suicide note. It was 10 AM. He stepped out on the road. . He had the note in his hand.

The light showed green. In the distance he saw a speeding yellow taxi. He always liked yellow taxis; they will make his suicide seem like an accident. No one will be blamed.

He ran, he was in a hurry to cross the road. He felt the crash against his body, there was pain all over. Just a fraction of a second before, the person standing next to him had called out.  “You dropped something.”

That was his suicide note. He smiled wryly.

 It meant all the words he liked. “Septimus Warren Smith.”

“They will never understand”, he thought, as people gathered around him to see the last gram of life flee from his conscious self.