Prodosh had insisted on a precise incision. Hence, the repeated stress on local trains or better yet overnight express trains. But, the thought of waking early and sneaking past everybody to some god forsaken isolated railway track didn't appeal to me much. Not because I am a late riser or afraid of spirits, in fact, joining the spirits on their carefree existence has been my primary deliberation for some time now. But, the main hindrance – there is nothing called isolated in an around Calcutta. A late night adventure might be intruding into somebody's cannabis and hooch party. I didn't want to disturb anybody, at least not now. Besides, early in the morning one might be greeted with shining bums glittering in the magnificently coordinated display of a fading moon and a rising sun. But, these are not exactly my choices of the last thing in my vision before the curtain's are drawn on my life's last act.

Prodosh had suggested a wide array of alkaloids and prescribed medicines too. But having seen his success rate of three attempts and yet fit and healthy combined with the legal hassles and persuasion skill required to avoid them, I was never warm to the idea. Prodosh sometimes jokes that there are so many parallels in his life that post his fourth and god willing successful, attempt he might be reincarnated as a train driver spending his next life always on parallel tracks. 

Poor Prodosh – Chartered Accountancy took three attempts, not cleared; three proposals to Salini, rejected; three unsuccesful forays to Sonagachi; thrice he spied on Salini and presumed her to be in, how to put it mildly, objectionably juxtaposed position with Sahil and again three times till date Sahil pepping him up and lifting his spirits by assuring him that he is trying very hard to make Salini like Prodosh. What Prodosh instead understood was that Sahil also had a swanky corporate job and a big fat salary. So, he look out his frustration indoors, in fact, within-bathroom-doors. You see both of us are not fools rather we are quite pragmatic.

Traditional ways don't appeal to me much. Not because I find them melodramatic but I think I would be quite inept to execute most methods. Tying a noose around my neck is just out of question, its embarrassing but who cares when everything is going to end, my mother or wife still ties my pyjamas! I have always been poor with knots. Immolation again is tricky. I might run around and bring the entire house down, harming others is something I have never been good at. Painting oneself in gold paint, stepping inside a tiger's cage, carbon-monoxide poisoning and many such sophisticated ideas are just not done, an eventless and inconsequential life doesn't deserve them.

So, like most of the unimaginative Kolkata sufferers, when surrounded by lots of choices, I chose the most popular and time tested way out – the metro. Well, the metro rail has not only stood the test of time but, in spite of several khaini chewing, pot bellied enforcers and scores of closed circuit cameras, has delivered on productivity and efficiency. Today, as I sit in Jatin Das Park waiting for the last metro, it was Prodosh who was on my mind along with the couple sitting across where the girl had had enough after fa ew rubs and kisses but the guy was working doubly hard to venture into newer prospects. I had left office on time and didn't go for any elaborate farewells just to avoid seeming suspicious. Leaving the office with a face akin to an epicure whose movements were irregular since three days, I walked the small distance towards the metro station buying a pack of Flakes on the way and sat there like a kettle hissing out smoke and slowly simmering in this intense desire to finish it once and for all.

The last thing I needed now was an acquaintance where my mind had to work doubly hard to find out ways to shrug him off. I had, therefore, chosen an isolated corner shaded partially from view by the concrete slide, the choice further validated by the cajoling couples. The man was approaching straight towards me now, which was not at all a good idea. Real tough luck if somebody had managed to spot me, here. As he came close I could make out that he was a stranger. Middle-aged and short with filthy clothes yet wearing a wrist watch. As he approached and sat next to me, I noticed his kind eyes, round and dilated, high temples with his untidy scalp brushed backwards. He didn't look drunk but was rubbing his hands and as he started addressing me in perfect English I understood it was not going to be a 10 rupee job. I felt assured for having a 50 rupee note in my purse. The last thing I wanted to do before I died was to haggle over alms. Then again, how did it matter if I gave him a 50 or a 100 rupee note the purse with its content is going to go down with me. But, somehow I felt obliged to keep some cash in the purse for the poor chap who would be cleaning my mess at such late hours. My reverie was punctuated by a gruffy voice.

"Sir, Good Evening. This is Shyamal Banerjee. May the Saint of Teressa bless you!"
"Good Evening," I replied.
" Dear Sir, you must not think me as a cheat and please listen to me in the name of the Holy Saint Teressa. I see you are shocked. But, please..."
"What's the matter? What do you want?" I curtly cut him short.
"Sir, I know you think I am a leech trying to sponge you. But Sir, in the name of St Aloysius I plead you to believe me when I say that I am a hardworking and honest man."
It was getting on my nerves so I told him to go off and pointed towards the couples. The guy would have easily parted with a 100 in exchange of privacy. But the man kept going on.
"Sir, me and my wife are the caretakers of a small orphanage near Barrackpore. We get alms from the church, Sir. We feed and take care of poor kids, Sir just as they were our own."
"Go to the Church then," I shouted.
"I went there Sir. In the name of the Holy Father St Patrick, I assure you I went there. But, the learned Brother has stopped our stipend since last two months. My wife says somebody at the ministry has complained against us. Oh God!"
I gave a chuckle and looked at the man as if inspecting a grasshopper and asked,"What have you guys done? Used to beat them...made them beg. Just get lost. I am not in mood for your downcast recital"
"Dear Sir, I treat them as if they are my own. In 15 years not a single complaint but somebody has conspired against us. May the Devil burn him on stakes!"

I felt a bit interested in his performance trying to raise his stakes high, going for a big kill at the end of the day. I nudged him on the shoulder and winked at him and asked, "What is the complaint against you old man? I hope you didn't touch the kids inappropriately you sick pest."

I hadn't completed my sentence but I could see the man just slump like a sack on the bench, all bundled up and sobbing incessantly to an extent that even the couples moved on. His already dilated eyes were now red due to repeated rubbing. His nose was flowing which he was cleaning with his shirt cuffs. His entire body was trembling and he was making a hissing sound at regular intervals. Looking at him I was sure either he was guilty of such abominable act or he was framed real well. There was nothing in between in his emotional outburst. Any way I had a few hours to live so what concern was it of mine. I patted him on his back and offered him my penultimate smoke lighting the last one myself. He somehow got some grip on himself and held the glowing cigarette within his fingers and taking small puffs with his trembling hands. 

Finally he said, "My Mother Mary be my witness. I have treated every little child as my own. May thousand vermin eat me up if a single allegation is true."

I didn't point it out that half of the paedophiles are from the family itself. What's the point its 8:30 now just another hour and I am done with.

"Sir, why are you sitting alone? If you don't mind me asking." He inquired.

"I am going to jump in front of the last metro. Am a bit early so just killing time. Satisfied?" 

"But Sir, in the name of the Holy Fathers its a great sin to take ones life."

"Oh really. What's the sin of paedophilia? If I may ask you?"

"Don't be angry, Sir. I just want you to consider the fact that whatever might be your pain and anguish which is pushing you towards this there are many in this world or say even here right around you whose torment is even bitter than yours but still they are ploughing on. Just consider"

"What do you know about my anguish? You old rag!"

"So, please tell me, Sir"

It turned out that I was after all in a mood for a confession and the fool with his repeated utterance of saints, holy mother and other such relatives prompted me to a monologue. When everything is going to end why not end it on a tete-a-tete with a paedophilic sponger.

"So my man I don't have a long drawn story to tell you. I am dying because everybody else has failed me. Let me elaborate. I do a job which I am not good at and which I don't enjoy, so my job failed me here. My parents are so happy at this make belief happiness and prosperity that they never kind of look within me an see how lonely, angered and hurt I am, so they have failed me. My wife is so busy in running this perfect family circus that she never tends to my wounds, nurse them, maybe reinforce some spirit in this battle weary soul to fight rather than cope, so she has failed me too. And above all my small son has failed me the most. Every day when I come home battered and bruised, internally bleeding, seething and sore, he just laughs at me with the and never lets me brood over and lick my wounds. After an entire day of tumultuous assault I need to entertain my toddler who as a pees on my face at the first given opportunity, so my son has also failed me – I am sick and tired of playing games at all levels in my existence and I want out."

I checked my watch. It was almost 9:30 and I needed to move on. I took out 100 rupee note from my wallet and handed over to the man. He gleefully accepted it with a glint in his eyes. He was steady now and tucked the note in a small pocket behind his belt. He then looked up at me.

"But Sir there is nothing in your problem that cant be mended. Look at me, I have been scourged and blacked for my entire life. I am willing to do anything, try as hard as I can to clear my name but nobody is giving me an opportunity. You on the other hand, can still fix everything. But, sorry Sir, its not my part to lecture you. I thank you for your help. This will last for two days till I meet Brother Superior on Monday. I am sure with the blessings of Saint Teresa this bad phase will pass over and me and my kids will see the sunny side of almighty's grace again." Saying so, he started walking towards the bus stand only to stop and come back again.

He touched my hand and thanked me again, "Sir, I don't have the might or influence to stop you my good man. But I pray to St Teresa, St Patrick, St Aloysius and the Holy Mother and I pray to all the gods that if you plan to go ahead with what you plan to do then may all the gods be you. Let the gods not fail you today, let them not default on you my good man. Bye."

He completed his statement and ran towards a slowly coming bus alighting it on the run. The last I saw of him was his dirty shirt cuffs with the shining wrist watch. I went down the steps of the platform navigating the brisk commotion of the crowd eager to reach home and enjoy the weekend. There was still five mins for the train to arrive. I was at the extreme end of the platform choosing a spot of vantage.

I thought about my mother and how she would shout at my wife for bringing a glass of glucose water a little late on my arrival, how my wife would take my bag, and sponge my forehead with her saree already drenched with my sons piss. How my father would ask me a silly question as if I have just successfully launched a satellite to Mars at office today and how my son would just stand and grin at me, a pious grin, uncomplicated grin, undemanding grin, unadulterated grin. A grin to live for, I guess. 

The train stopped and the gates opened. Commuters were streaming out in hordes I tried to take myself in. I felt a fleshy brush on my side ribs and just caught the sight of a well endowed lady fleeting across towards the ladies aisle. Well, the day closed out well enough.