MaNan SS||*New Life with Shrink*||Chap 14:pg 85(22-04) - Page 32

Originally posted by: Cooldude101

PAST PAST PAST!
Manik has done some severe harm to NAndu most probably and doesn't know himself!
Nandini is already in ?Cochin?

Originally posted by: crazypranu19

When will u update update soon please.

Originally posted by: Drashtiii

Promo

Finally the only idea which seemed most likely to work was jumping off the terrace of the building I lived in. Death would be certain and quick.

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I went up to the terrace of my building.

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I remembered my night at the fresher's party on another terrace in Mumbai where I was teasing Joseph, threatening to jump off. The irony of the situation struck me now. There was no Joseph now to tease and I only wanted to die now.

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I climbed on the wall and sat looking down, gathering those final moments in my head. And then I prepared myself for the jump and final death

I mentally started the count down..3...2...1...and...

Okay

After reading this who wants me to continue with the ongoing track and who wants nandu's past with HIM

Do let me know jaldi so that i can write okay.!

Originally posted by: syami

so her condition is getting worst slowly...

I wud love to see his part of past

then is the some 1 who will save her from jumpin????

can't wait for update

Originally posted by: Drashtiii

kal pakka. .
I am waiting for misha di. .to complete my story
she said by monday. .
Shal i give update today?

Okay i dont have enough patience to update this story. and your lovely comments are just not helping me to update late. so here i am.

Chapter 7

The light goes out

I got progressively worse. The medication which the doctor had prescribed did not seem to help the least bit. My parents were convinced it would work and a cure was just round the corner.

The tablets were to be taken twice a day. There was a little yellow one and a slightly larger white one. I had no idea what they were for and what they were called. But my parents had pinned their hopes and their aspirations for me on these two little tablets which held the promise of miraculously, or rather medically, turning my life around.

I felt a little bit like a prisoner but the only place that I was trapped in, was inside my own mind.

AND THE WORST PART IS THAT IT HAS JUST BEGUN.

What was truly terrifying was the blankness. There were simply no thoughts inside my head. It was all a blank. It was an endless vacuum, a huge void.

Earlier, I could write what I felt. I could pour my emotions and my feelings into words. I had my poetry and my pictures and words. But this terrible and completely strange state that I found myself in, was something that I just could not bear. The agony of it made me want to weep and wail out my sorrow but even grief eluded me. I was numb and senseless. I ached to feel something. I ached to feel pain. I ached to cry. I ached to think. I ached and ached.

The ache was a constant companion like a shadow. There was no getting rid of it. It never went away and the moment I opened my eyes, it was there, prodding me, hurting me, taunting me and mocking me. I wanted to run away from it. I wanted a respite. I wanted to escape. It was as though the light that was inside me had gone out. It was a dark hole and I had no idea when it would end.

I sat at my desk staring at my books. I looked at the Kotler book which was on top of the pile of books neatly arranged. At one time I had revelled in its contents greedily devouring it. I opened it yet again hoping to be comforted by familiar words and phrases. I felt that the earlier inability to read and absorb would now have vanished and it would all come back easily to me. I was wrong. When I opened it and tried to read, frustration, panic and rage gripped me once again. It was just the same as before. Nothing had changed. In blind anger I grabbed the reading light and sent it flying across the room. I threw the Kotler book too against the wall and it fell with a heavy thud. Then I smashed the ceramic cup that had pens and pencils on to the ground. The cup shattered and the pens scattered in all directions. Then in a fury I began tearing up the notes I had meticulously made. I was breathing hard and there were tears running down my face. The commotion made my parents come running.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I realised that they were watching me in shock, not knowing what to do. Girls expressing rage like this was not something that was easily accepted in Indian society. They did not know what to do or how to deal with it. I too was slightly shocked with my violent reaction.

I had to meet Dr. Mukta again the following week with my parents. She then said to continue with the same medication but adjusted the dosage and made it a higher dose.

I was totally helpless. I did not want more medication. I wanted my poems back. I wanted my pictures back. They were the only hope I had and they had vanished.

It was the proverbial last straw that broke the camel's back. I was already broken but this crushed me completely and totally.

On the outside, I looked like death.

And inside, I felt like it.

I was tired of it all. I wanted it to end.

Quietly but determinedly I made up my mind to take my own life.

I had been contemplating various methods of suicide quite clinically. I had thought about it for weeks. I thought of slashing my wrists and then submerging them in a bucket of water which would ensure that I bled to death. In the movies, they usually do it in bathtubs. But our bathroom had no bath tub and the closest I could think of was a bucket of water which would do the trick. There were two reasons why I decided against this method. It would be messy the next day and also this was a slow method. I was not sure if I would have that much of sustenance as to hold my hands under the water all the time till life ebbed out. The other method I considered was pouring kerosene all over myself and getting burnt like the letters. But here too what terrified me was the chance of failure. I had seen photographs of people with third degree burns. If I failed, the suffering would be unimaginable. I would get cooked from the inside. Also there was a risk of permanent disfigurement. Then I thought of hanging from the ceiling fan which was the most common method used in movies. I could easily use my mother's saree which was what they did in the movies. But I was not sure if I would be able to make the loop correctly. Besides I was not sure if I could go through with it. It involved too many parameters all of which had to work for it to be successful. Then I also contemplated on an overdose of my medication. I knew that my medication was kept on top of the refrigerator and all I had to do was swallow them all and then lie down in my bed and go. This one appealed to me but I was not sure if the tablets would be lethal enough. I was not sure of what effect it would have. I also was not sure whether my body could take it all or whether I would throw it up. So I ruled out this option too. Finally the only one which seemed most likely to work was jumping off the terrace of the building I lived in. Death would be certain and quick. I winced only for a moment when I pictured my body hitting the hard concrete, the momentum and impact that would crush my bones and perhaps my skull and make my heart cease working. I was sure that I would feel the pain only for a few seconds. I had read that if one were to fall from a height of fifty feet it would be lethal. I would be jumping off the eighth floor -therefore I could be certain of death.

It must have been around eleven, in the night when I crept out quietly.

I went to the edge of the wall of the terrace and looked down. The hard concrete pavement eight floors below stared at me, as if daring me to jump. I peered a little further, and walked along the edge of the wall, choosing a spot to jump. I did not want to land in anyone's balcony. I had to pick a spot where there were no balconies or no saving spaces of any kind underneath.

I climbed on the wall and sat looking down, gathering those final moments in my head.

I mentally started the countdown 3...2

It was then that I heard the hushed voices.

"Oh Keerti, I really love you. All I am asking you to do is just think about what I have said" said a male voice.

In my already confused head, it sounded to me exactly like HIS voice and it was very similar to what HE had said to me. Stunned I turned around.

It was Sanchit, along with a girl. I remembered having met them when I had first moved to Mumbai. Both lived in my building. They had taken shelter just next to the water tank. Sanchit's back was turned towards me. Keerti was facing him.

HIS grandfather's words came back again to haunt me "Never belittle love," he had said.

I was distracted and I continued staring at them transfixed.

"Nandini. Oh my God. What in the world are you doing here?" Suddenly my dad's voice cut through my thoughts and the next moment I turned around and saw my dad.

My dad was shocked. He had woken up with an uneasy feeling at night, and when he came to my room, he had found it empty. It was almost as though he had a premonition or maybe he had heard me when I had gone out of the door. He had then found the entrance door to our flat unlocked and had gone downstairs and asked the security guard if he had seen me. When the Guard had answered in the negative, my dad had come up to the terrace to look for me.

I had never seen my dad cry, but that night I saw the tears of defeat and agony that he blinked back. I saw the sheer helplessness and anger at being able to do nothing for me on his face. He was such a strong man, a self made man who had risen from the starkest of circumstances to carve out a life and a career for himself. He had always given us the best of everything. But that night, I saw him break and it was because of me.

He did not say a word to me. He did not shout at me or berate me. I wished he had. His words would have been easier to bear than his silence. He took my hands in his and quietly led me down the stairs back into out apartment on the second floor.

"Sorry Dad," I managed to finally say, choking on my own words. It was the hardest apology I have ever made in my life. I truly meant it. But I had no more words left to convey its depth.

*************

Since you guys asked ongoing track there is no Manik's POV. Remember he is on cochin revealing her past. But you guys don't want so for you baad me..

Next part is prologue part. And then MaNan meet..Khush ho jav chalo ab.😃