Modern Slaves

Coward

As the clock neared midnight, I found myself pacing back and forth on the terrace, the ember of a cigarette casting a faint glow in the darkness. Lost in my thoughts, I continued my restless stroll until a figure emerged from the door leading to the balcony. It was Jithin. Offering him a puff, I was met with his gentle refusal; he was attempting to quit. I nodded in understanding, a silent apology lingering in the air. Bringing my pacing to a halt, I moved towards the balcony's edge, and Jithin joined me in solemn silence. Hours passed without a word exchanged between us. Eventually, fatigue weighed heavy upon us, and we found ourselves drifting into slumber right there on the balcony, under the vast expanse of the night sky.

We awoke to Chechi's voice, questioning why we were sleeping on the terrace. I rose without answering, noticing Jithin still lying on the ground. My mind turned to my other brother, absent since my return home. A night had passed, and still, there was no sign of him. Where could he be? The question lingered, unspoken, as I hesitated to voice it to Chechi. Chechi went back down, and I turned to Jithin and asked him why he lied about my brother's suicide. Jithin, still lying on the ground, replied, "I don't know, man. When I phoned you, I didn't know what to tell you, and I hesitated a bit, so I just told you whatever came to my mind in a rush. I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"Fuck, why did he do it?"

"Please don't beat yourself over this. I know it's been some years since you have been in touch, and you feel somewhat responsible for this, but trust me, he had his demons."

I struck another match, the flare illuminating the tip of the cigarette as I brought it to my lips. With a deep inhale, I savored the bitter sweetness of the smoke, tendrils curling lazily into the morning air. Resting my hand on the small wall of the balcony, I peered out into the lingering dawn, the world below beginning to stir with the early risers.

Among the few figures still milling about, I imagined their hushed conversations, likely revolving around my brother's untimely demise. Words like "coward" and "weak" likely peppered their judgments. Yet, amidst the whispers, a sudden clarity washed over me.

Why endure this relentless cycle of existence? The suffocating weight of societal expectations, the endless parade of faces lost in their own struggles—what purpose did it serve? It was a question I had asked myself countless times, but now it seemed more pressing than ever. And then, amidst the cacophony of doubts, a steadfast conviction emerged. Despite the chaos and despair, I knew deep within my heart that my brother was not like the rest of us, trapped in this maze of existence. He was not a coward, nor was he weak. His absence only underscored the courage it took to confront his own demons, a bravery I could only admire from afar.

Feeling a hand rest on my shoulder, I turned to find Jithin still by my side. "Let's have a cup of tea," he suggested softly. Nodding in agreement, I followed him back to the hall. As we entered, I noticed several familiar faces among the gathering, their sympathetic gazes directed towards me. Yet, amidst the sea of mourners, I couldn't help but feel a surge of resentment towards some of them. Why were they here now, I wondered, when they had never shown any care or concern for my brother while he was alive? They seemed like vultures, swooping in to feed off the tragedy of his death.