Grey pool

I struggled to catch my breath again.

Lungs brimming with water, exhausted legs flailing in the waves, as I hang holding on to the parapet. I couldn’t swim another feet. No, that is an understatement. I couldn’t swim another second.

I looked around, eager for any railing, any support to let me out of this sullen grey pool.

None. It was as if I was doomed to die in this water like I had always imagined.

“Bury me in water after death… don’t you dare cremate me or shut me in a coffin” I remember remarking to my scorning mother.

And here I was, slowly being pulled into a bottomless pool. Being buried not in, but by, grey, lifeless, water.

The numbing pain in my arms shot up to my shoulders, I knew I couldn’t hang on much longer. “Don’t let go….please don’t let go….” I told myself not willing to slip down into the ice cold water. Weary eyes searching through the dim surroundings.

I noticed him, far way. Almost like a shadow. His features weren’t clear but I knew it was him.

“Hey….” I wanted to call out. But my throat was too parched to make any noise.

As if he heard my mind’s voice, I noticed him walk towards me.

A sudden pang of excitement and adrenalin rushed through my entrails. A boost of energy spread over my almost dead body.

I adjusted my hold on the slippery parapet and tried to use my tired legs to thrust me up. Kicking and shoving, they somehow managed to land on some solid extension off the pool’s side wall.

That was enough, just enough to give me a good footing to propel my body out of the pool.

He was running towards me now. A sense of security, an unknown joy filled me as I looked at him through blurry eyes. He stretched his arms out, trying to hold my weak, shivering body.

Tears rained over me. Like broken glass I almost crumbled and spilled towards him.

But no, his arms did not wrap me in a warm embrace.

I felt a hard nudge on my shoulders, my feet slipped and BLOP!!!

There I was again, engulfed in the fluid darkness, my body sinking deeper and deeper.

His eyes gleamed above, dark grey; almost like the dead pool that was swallowing me.

“No….!” I could hear the shock in my own voice as I startled awake. Sweat trickling off my forehead. The dream had been recurring for a few months now. I had gone through the same images so many times that I was sure I wouldn’t be as surprised about its events anymore, but it never seemed to stop overwhelming my already grief struck brain.

Please, don’t mourn for me. I hadn’t lost a family member or a friend. I hadn’t even lost my dog; he was out chasing squirrels again. I could hear him barking in the distance. It was a different kind of grief, a causeless, endless sadness.

Was it because of my legion of failures? The unpublished novel, the unsuccessful business venture, friend’s betrayal, unrequited love, dad’s disappointment or the combination of them all? I wasn’t sure.

Something had shattered inside me a few years ago. Something so precious, so beautiful yet so vulnerable that I hadn’t even taken notice of. But I could feel its absence every passing day since.

An unnamed sorrow, a cloud of gloom always surrounded me, raining down and nourishing my insecurities and inferiority complex. Family and friends alike tried their best to lift my spirits, yet failed. I had stopped fighting the pain, long ago. It was as if I liked its cold wings cradling me.

A strange sense of despair entices me, even when I smile back at a cherubic little child.

The somber had now become a part of my being. Like a nail, a hair it was vestigial, yet present. I had grown accustomed to its melancholic tone that had seeped deep into my core. In John keate’s words,

“Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;
His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.”

I sighed. It was time.

I got off my bed, showered, dressed and was off to my boring job.

The depression branded me even in my grey clothes and dark under eyes, that I did not bother hiding with a concealer anymore.

“Colorful clothes could brighten your mood…” I could hear my shrink’s upbeat voice in my head.

But who cared? I knew how much ever I tried to get out of this sad slumber; life was going to push me again into its grey pool. There wasn’t a point in dusting myself up, lifting myself and getting on the saddle anymore. Life wasn’t Shakira’s FIFA world cup song and the world wasn’t watching me closer.

The metro was crowded as usual and the sea of people thronging in every station, haunted by their smart phones purged their way into it. The goth-looking teenager, pot bellied middle age man, alcoholic mother with her triplets and the lone gay man in the corner, were a few among the emotionless zombies. I couldn’t help but notice their dream-drained eyes and the caveat of monday mornings, deadlines hanging around their neck.

Were they also swimming in the same grey pool as me?