The boy is a suicidal bully. Who bullied by day and planned death by night.
The gate keeper of hell dropped by often.
The boy, sixteen. The keeper, timeless.
The gate keeper of heaven couldn’t drop by. He was depressed, and heavily sedated.

The keeper of hell played Sitar pretty well. He seemed satiated enough.
As of now, the Sitar rested by him. As he talked, he sometimes reached her, touched just a little as if to check if she’s still there. She looked like a Swan who as of now has folded her wings but will fly away whenever. Even in his touch there was a fear of that.
Out of curiosity, the bully asked him, “Why is he depressed?”
“Oh he needs operating on the senses. Someone needs to get scalpel and screwdrivers and get in there!” He laughed.
The bully carried the conversation forward. “You know in Japan suicide is known as a samurai’s act.”
The keeper looked at him curiously.
“They even have a forest for it.”
The keeper gulped. “Yeah nice place.”  “ is known as…” He laughed. “Shit! You’ve made it sound almost like a branch of some academic studies!”
“Who is society?” The bully asked and a flash of rage flew across his eyes.
“Look kid I don’t want to hear your little vents.”
The bully-boy clenched his jaws.
“ And frankly it’s taking too long! I am almost getting the vibe you don’t want to do it!”…”He was right.” The keeper said thoughtfully.
“Who was right?” The rage in his eyes hadn’t passed yet.
The keeper smirked, and squinted his eyes.
“The depressed guy?”
There was silence.
“How does he know? Who is he to predict? Did he want to do it?” The bully grinded his teeth and let out a laugh. “Is he one of those pansies who one morning says stuffs like I don’t feel like dying anymore!”  
“Are you running errands for him?” The boy flicked the green leaf of some plant that his mother decorated his table with. And brought his face an inch away from the keeper. “Are you his little bitch?”
The hell keeper leaned back and almost looked like he was enjoying himself.
“ Maybe you got in my way. If you minded your own business rather than cramping up my room like a pile of shit I would’ve done it already!” The boy hissed.
The keeper laughed like an audience finding the expected reassuring twist in the movie.
“It all stinks. Everybody stinks. It’s just it only comes out after death. The left over body decomposes and the stink that was inside comes out. It’s all rotten inside. They garnish it with nice cloths and sweet words and fucking perfumes. Cover it up. But I can smell it. Fucking morons!” The boy threw his cricket ball with a knotted fist and an un-knotted fury.
The keeper was smirking all the same. And wanted to raunch it up a little more. Make the game more fun.

“You know what he said?”
The boy stared.
“You need a G-O-O-D  C-R-Y.”
“Why the fuck would he say that? Is he a faggot?”
The keepers face became taut. Well that progressed quickly.
“Well it is said that depression corrodes your thinking.” He dialed back. “It could be that…I say it rather suits you.”
“How so?” The boy interrogated.
“It’s loud. Publicity stunt almost.”
“ W-H-A-T  D-O  Y-O-U  T-H-I-N-K?”
“ Men think they are superior. God did pamper you a little more than the others. But oh boy! Did you become brat! It’s your brain, the very animalistic mechanical part of you, that is you. And there’s an error as of now. It was designed to survive. Not to slit the wrists on a Monday night.”

This Monday the desired way to die circled back to cutting the wrists. Google presented with endless choices. There’s nothing original to be done here. It’s all been done since the beginning of consciousness. As peoples suicided body piled up, so grew the choices.

The boy smiled. “What do you think I would do?”
The keeper let out a sigh. “Men are too proud to ask for help. And I don’t predict. I watch.” A mischief glimpsed in his cheeks. “Besides…Are you a man?”
The boy smirked. “Do you want a wank off?” He took a pause, pretended to watch out the window, and got back. “Besides…are you a man? I mean I suppose you are a he..Are you a he?”
“Most do take me as a he. Authority of any kind demands the imagination to be masculine. ”
“What are you?”
The keeper smiled. “Well that’s beyond your perception. And I’m not gonna waste that discussion in here.”
“Who do you want to waste the discussion with? I mean throughout the history… whom did your tell secret?”
“Oh there’s no secret.”
They stared at each other.
“ Buzz Aldrin got back and suffered from it. Like the heaven guy.” The boy continued. And retracted his gaze. “ I always thought the moon to be sadistic.”
“You seem fixated on him.”
The boy sighed. “Is he talkative?”
“Not really. He dozes off and surfaces with words that has no connection with the ongoing conversation. He ruins addas.”
“Words like…?”
“ Suiciders don’t wanna die. The people not committing it want to.”
The boy gave that moments. “If not death, what?”
“Tsk.. Must be what humans always want.” He smirked. “Attention.”
The boy sank in his blue velvet chair. “That’s really ugly.”
“Tell me about it.”
“ No that’s really ugly that you would make something so hauntingly aching so preposterously vulgar.”
The keeper leaned his head sideways. Well that’s something.
“Well anyway. It’s getting late.” He looked at the boy meaningfully.
“It’s never late.”
The keeper laughed out. An uncalculated laugh. He lifted his Sitar and stood up.
“Your mother wanted to commit suicide one time, well she thought about it many times and considered it really seriously just the one. If she did it, you wouldn’t have to be here and face this.”
The boy was silent. His heart beating in quiet hum of a thunder.
The keeper sounded almost amused. Theatrical. Spread his hands around as he continued talking.
“I know, right? She is Ma for God’s sake! It’s eerie to think of her as a person who would take the choices in her hands. To be or not to be…”
The boy was clenching his jaws and staring at the floor.
Time passed.
It brought all kinds of lights into the world and faded all away.
“So it’s her faulty gene really that took over in you. Not your dad’s, he doesn’t have the bug. ”
“I knew that about Abba without you telling me.” The boy looked up. “He’s too dumb to die.”
Right away the keeper said, “No. It’s because he’s too dumb to live.”
The keeper roamed around a little.
Going into the balcony and such.
He looked back at him. “Well I’ve enjoyed myself.” He brushed his robe.
“If you do do it, we’ll meet again.” He gave an enchanting smile.
“Oh.. and the one time your mother seriously considered committing suicide was when she conceived you.”
And he was no longer there.

Sea of trees rustled in meditation. Clouds traveled million miles like postmen, bringing news of all things imagined and otherwise.
The sunlight went round and round breaching worlds.
The air was bending over backwards in quiet introspection.
At the crossroads of the late night and early dawn, the yellow leaves finally let go off the branches. 

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