The Suicide Note without Suicide.


In the wake of suicides taking place all-round the country, this is what a student wrote to his parents.

Parents never demand anything for themselves. All their demands circle around our well-being. Right from our birth, our every progress draws them closer to their only wish – we grow to become a successful person. The day we walked without support, the day we spoke our first words, the first day of our school life, the day we were awarded on stage, the day we looked adorable in a fancy dress competition, the day we wore our graduation caps and the day we got our job letter are among the few simple milestones they seek for, towards the fulfillment of their only dream – us. Where Mummy works hard at home to make our trivial dreams possible, Papa toils at the office to make our future possible. I have always found, “Papa kehte hai bara naam karega, beta hamaara aisa kaam karega” a great jingle to hum but in the silence of the night when I just say out these words in a monotonous tone, I feel low about not fulfilling any of his dreams. Neither have I excelled in studies, nor have I contributed towards his business. I have procrastinated hoping to focus again, but in the interim, I have only wasted my time. I have never considered academics as a basis of judgement and thus when I speak about failure, it does not mean academically. I have failed. I was of the opinion that teenage life is the time to enjoy life but as soon as I turned twenty and looked back, I only saw wreckage. I have not made anyone proud given that parents always believe their child to be their pride. It was that simple and still I failed. Suicide is the only option I have now. I cannot hurt you everyday. I hoped to be your pride, but I cannot live while being your shame. I know you are reading this with teary eyes and I might already be gone while you do so, but always remember that I love you. But I realize my death will not solve things for you. I know that this is the note you will now hate, but it will be the same piece of paper you will cry on, every time you would like to hear from me. Suicide does not end the pain. It transfers it to someone else. I do not want to transfer this pain onto you. Having brought so much troubles, this is the last thing I would like to do. Though, you will not wait for this note to end but I know that once it does, you will either slap me out of love for putting you through the test of losing your child or you will hug me thinking that your child has come back. Indeed, your child has. It is like taking birth again. Teach me how to walk for I keep falling. Teach me how to speak for I forgot how to tell you my problems. Teach me in the same patient manner because I want to start over. I want to bring pride to you through simple milestones before life gets complex again. I will not surrender before hardships. I will not give up in hard times. I still wrote this note to tell you that I have died on the inside – the part of me that has already committed suicide and that is the part you need to give birth to, again. But, I will not go. I know you do not like when I do not come back home on time. I will not go.


“Maa ne khat mei kya likha tha, jiye tu jug jug yeh kaha tha
Chaar pal bhi jee na paaya tu…
Sunn le yaaro ki yeh baatein, beetengi sab gham ki raatein
Uth jaa saale, yu sataata hai kyu?” 

Please, say no to suicides.


About Chetan

A twenty year old infant who fears if crows may shit on him or if Bengali aunties' umbrellas may prick him in the eye. He is currently waiting for Mamata Banerjee to leave Kolkata.

Posted on June 1, 2016, in June Diaries, Specials and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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