He was a quiet man

ForeThought: Clinical depression is a wide-spread psychiatric disorder, put in simple words- is the diminished ability to experience happiness and extreme self loath. About 20% of Indians in the age group 20-40 suffer from this, 85% of these demonstrate strong suicidal tendencies. There is a wide debate in the research community about the exact cause of clinical depression. But all psychiatrists do agree on one thing- its all in the mind. The exaggerated, unwarranted feeling of helpless anger kills more people than AIDS.

Stood there, He, at the gates of destiny

arms folded, head held high, and a smile rising

for he felt joyous than ever before.

“Beware, young fella’, this is the beginning of your fall” the Pessimist sniggered

“too many have come in with a rising smile…

too few have left with it still there.” the snigger grew louder.

” Aah. stop pestering him, you slimy prick” the optimist said leaping in.

“The world is your oyster,

and I am always your uninvited pearl, my friend.”

He moved into the portals of the unknown, shrugging off

the arguments rattling out in his head.

He was always a quiet man.

Words juggled only in his head

mouth left perennially dry.

There were always thoughts to speak, opinions to pass, and mistakes to point

but, thought He, it would be wise to have them unsaid.

Never, he realized, silence is a vice afflicting the ones who are too afraid to sin.

Clock hands ticked away in relentless monotony- tick-tock :tick-tock

first seconds, then minutes, then hours passed, days, months, and years.

Trees changed color just like people around

from flush green to dull yellow to wicked red.

He saw it all, never to judge,

for, he was a quiet man.

He usually walked alone, eyes transfixed to the ground….

for, he couldn’t take those ugly looks,

those jabs at his character,

those jibes behind his back.

He could take it no longer,

the nightmares in the dark grew into monsters in the light.

His ears bled from the demonic laughter all around.

How could they be so happy, in burning his ego alive.

“Where’s my oyster, where’s my pearl.” he shouted in despair.

“Oh! don’t you know, the last train to happiness just left,

and, Optimist- poor old chap, he couldn’t make it.

I took good care of him, hope you don’t mind” Pessimist crackled,

the sarcasm was palpable, he knew the day has come.

Ran, He to the end of the world,

swallowing drops of hope, until there were nothing left.

He stood there, savoring for the one last time,

the sunrise at its magnanimous grandeur.

Alas, it was too late.

The same sun which made the clouds, was lost

in their dark might.

“Now, for the fall.” the Pessimist whispered, he was now the Satan himself.

“Yes, go ahead. No time for fear.

Hesitant is one who comes between a hag and a hypocrite. Are you one?”

He smiled, it was a rhetorical question. I may be quiet, but never a hypocrite.

On the clap of thunder, He fell into the abyss.

First stop was excruciating pain,

next was heaven.