535. Trapped for eternity

In Bangla, there's this word called Iccha-mrittu. Iccha is wish, Mrittu is death. So Iccha-mrittu means death from wishing. You just tell yourself that it's time for you to leave, and you do. Growing up, you heard about pious women, or religious scholars, who could pull an act like that.

Now that I think of it, wishing death is counterproductive, because in Islam, it's a sin to commit suicide, which is what you're basically doing. What's the point of being so pious and building up this power, if you're going to commit cardinal sin. But I digress.

So, my way of going would like Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Liaison. She hears that Valmont professed his love for her on his deathbed (or death floor/street, since he died in a duel), and then says, "I've heard enough, close the curtains", and then just dies. Wouldn't it be sweet? Dying at a young age, preserving your beauty.

At the risk of sounding morbid, I always thought that I'd die at 26. It was a magic number, pulled out of a hat. I can't declare the full circumstances of my death in this blog, but there was a logic to it at that time. Am I sorry it didn't happen? You bet. Life only started to become interesting when I turned 30, and decided that I'm done waiting for life to happen. Besides, it's not like there's something of urgency in the eternal afterlife which needs a hasty start. That's why they call it eternity, get it?

My ultimate nightmare would be what happens in the movie, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I've heard of this movie, but only got to see it on the plane on my way to the US, and was blown away by the creativity of the production. This reminded me of the other paralysis movie that's also my all time favorite, Mar Adentro, or the Sea Inside. Here in the Diving Bell, all the action happens outside of someone's right eye.

The reason I'm bringing this up is because of this sore throat problem I've been having for past three days. I had a little scratchy feeling on sunday. Monday, I went to the ministry, and left early because I couldn't swallow anything. Tuesday, I barely made it through work, and went to bed at 5pm and left the bed (barring one pee break at 2am) at 7am. I wasn't asleep, just too weak to move.

When the phone rang yesterday, and I realized that it was in the other room, my first reaction was, please don't let me become like Ramone San Pedro or Jean Do. I want to be able to answer phones for the rest of my life. I didn't feel like moving, so i told myself, I should ignore the calls.

by 6pm, a fever started building up. I was trying to type something on my laptop and found that I couldn't concentrate enough to type a decent sentence. Words looked convoluted, grammar seemed infathomable. I quit typing.

I've been listening to Alice in Wonderland by audiobook for a few days, and I could swear there was a white rabbit chewing on my sandals. My neck was stiff, and I felt muscle pain down my back everytime I moved, so I tried to listen to the position of my sandals, and was assessing if my door was open so the rabbit could leave.

So, finally, I forced myself to sleep, and the next thing I knew, it was 7am.

Today, luckily I'm feeling better. I'm randomly swaying my neck to ensure that I'm mobile, and have been walking as much as possible.

It's not my time yet.