“We are extremely sorry to inform you that we won’t be able to give you an admission this academic year in the fiction writing program as competition was really high. Although your application was very strong, there were others who were exceptional. So kindly let us know if you wish to apply next year. Thank you.”

With this letter in hand, everything that Vishal had worked for in the past few months had all gone down the drain. He didn’t know what to feel. He was at home when he received the letter. He nervously opened it, mumbling a zillion prayers under his breadth. He had worked so hard to get every document in place and then spent so much in sending each application across. He had waited so anxiously for a positive reply from the colleges that he had applied to. All that time, energy and effort was taken away by those few dry, courteous lines, which didn’t mean anything to them, but meant the world to Vishal. His dreams had just been squashed mercilessly. One letter after the other said pretty much the same thing. He was hoping so badly that he would get through and be among his own kind who would be as cranky and as moody when it came to writing. Everything else seemed futile to him suddenly. His dream was like his own child, who he had nurtured for so long. His child had just died.

“Umm, I don’t know how to put this, but I think we should not see each other any more. We just keep fighting all the time instead of making each other happy. It is very hard for me too. I hope you would be ok. I just feel that we are wasting each other’s time. So it’s better that you move on with your life and I should move on with mine. I feel we are just not meant to be together. I don’t know whether I would be happy with you anymore. I am sorry it had to end like this. It was beautiful till it lasted. You please take care. Bye. ”

The message stared at him through the cell phone window. He was at work when the cell had beeped, informing him about the new message in his inbox. He hungrily opened it, because he knew for sure that it would be from his girlfriend. It was. He didn’t expect it to happen. He had to hold on to the wall to balance himself. His heart was torn. His love had just left him. He was shaken. Vishal didn’t have many friends. He didn’t know whom to share his unbearable grief with. He broke down. Being a loner didn’t help him either. In one swift blow his support system had been snatched away from him. His love was his hope. His hope had just given up on him.

“The payment of Rs. 50,000 on your Yes Bank Credit Card 6****8000 is due on 10-April-2007.”

He held the credit card statement in his hand. Vishal was blank. He didn’t know how he was going to arrange for so much money in such a quick time. He had bought plane tickets for his whole family and some relatives.

“Please come to Delhi urgently. Grandma is serious,” the telegram had said.

His dad was retired. His mom was going crazy to see her mother. He had to get the plane tickets. When they all reached there, everything was already over. Grandma had expired. Vishal’s mother was not his mother in that moment of madness. She was her mother’s little girl who wouldn’t let go of her legs and cling on to it ferociously, who would now for her entire life regret the fact that she couldn’t even say “I love you” to her mother for one last time.

He had delayed his credit card payments.

“Your performance in this company has not been satisfactory. Your 3 months probation period has expired and we won’t require your services anymore. Thanks for being a part of our organization. We wish you luck in all your future endeavors.”

“Yeah, right,” thought Vishal to himself. He didn’t know how to react to that. How could anyone expect anything from him? He just smiled to himself and replaced the letter into the envelope. He calmly packed his stuff and walked out of the office with no expression on his face. He went to the parking lot to drive his second-hand forest-green ford out of the office premises. He had a pile of unopened letters on the dash-board, which he had promised himself that he would go through, but never found the right time. Just as he was backing, a Nissan truck came screeching and banged into his ford from behind. The driver came and apologized and blamed his loose brakes for the mishap. Vishal just smiled at him and backed his car and drove off. He didn’t mind, as his head was being bombarded with million other things and also he had luckily insured his car. He drove on to a little green patch on the side of the road that was overlooking a stream of sparkling water. He grabbed the bunch of letters that hadn’t been unattended to for a while. One said,

“Sir, your car insurance premium is pending. If you don’t pay your dues by 15-March-2007, your insurance will expire. Kindly hurry.”

It was the 5th of April today.

He looked at the badly disfigured rear of his car and looked at the flowing stream again. A group of slum children were splashing water on each other. An old man who was sitting with his grandson was watching the boys play. Vishal got up to get home, but thought of catching a movie instead. The other envelopes in the bunch were electricity, water, cable, newspaper, and some other bills that were long overdue.

“Housefull,” read the board at the cinema.

Vishal bit his lower lip hard and started walking back to his car. As he was walking back, he couldn’t help but notice an eager little boy who was industriously polishing a gentleman’s shoes. He followed a routine. He would spit on the shoes first and then would rub a bit of polish and then would shine it vigorously with a dirty looking piece of cloth. After doing a good job of it, he expectantly looked at the tall looking man in the hope that he might give him more than the measly Rs.2 that he had asked for. But after searching his pockets for a good minute, the man took out Rs.1.50 and threw it at the boy with a sheepish smile, assuring him that he would pay the remaining 50 paise later. But he knew and the boy knew that it would never happen. The little boy scraped the coins off the floor and put it in his box smeared with cherry blossom polish. He was disappointed, but quickly went about his business. His sales pitch, “best polish in town, try and see for yourself. Satisfaction guaranteed.” Vishal searched his pockets for some change, but could only find the last 50 bucks sitting crumpled in a corner of his upper shirt pocket. He gave the money to the boy, not out of pity, but out of respect for the little boy who went about his business even after a setback. The boy had such joy in his eyes.

He parked his car below his apartment and went towards the lift. He was amused to see a sign, which read,

“Lift out of order.”

Vishal heard himself laughing heartily. He was surprised at himself. While taking the stairs to his flat on 6th floor, he always had to pass the house of Sharma's, who had mounted a framed poster just above their door. It was a painting of a wonderful looking place with hills and farms and birds and animals and children and happiness. It said, “Life is Beautiful.” Vishal always wanted to rip it off the wall, but could never manage to do it. He stood there looking at the painting for a few moments, before moving on. The moment he entered his house, “son, there has been no electricity since morning.” Please do something about it, but before that, here, have some tea.” Vishal took the cup of tea and went over to look at the setting sun from his balcony. The radio in the hall was playing an Oasis number, “Hung in a bad place.” His mom called him again, “Vishal, please go and get some grocery items, here is the list, and also get your father his medicines.” Vishal knew his mom was saying something, but all he could hear was thousands of horns blaring at him in the middle of the road. Vishal just leaned a little forward and gravity did the rest. His head was a bloody pulp. The tea cup was no where to be seen. His body lay in a weird twisted position, like his own life. People gathered around him to take part in the fun. His mom who came running after him, when she saw what her son was trying to do, had a heart attack and died on the spot. His dad who was reading the newspaper had a paralytic attack on seeing his son falling off the building and his wife collapsing in the balcony. He went into coma, and has been that way ever since.

“Life is Beautiful!”