Shayan's Suicide

Shayan was just seventeen years old. He hanged himself from his room fan and died. When I heard the news, I didn't believe it. Naturally and rationally, it was not possible.  He was living a happy life.

I started to observe him when he visited with his mother at our home in Islamabad. He was my nephew and knew about technology, computers, philosophy, and careers. He was ambitious and thoughtful. 

His suicide shocked everyone. I spent a whole night outside the morgue where we kept him. His brother and sister were in Islamabad, and they were traveling to Gilgit. 

The next day at 13:00, we took him to his home for the last time and carried him to his grave. I held his coffin for a mile, and later, my shoulder hurt for two days. 

In the graveyard, after the prayers, we laid him down in his final resting place. There I was looking into his face, which was pale and silent. Above him, there was the first slip of the ceiling, and within no time, the ceiling covered his body. 

There was Shayan, who was friendly, lovely, nice, handsome, young, ambitious, and wise, lying on the bed of soil. He seemed tired, but I never saw any tiredness or hopelessness in him. 

I asked myself, is it just to let a teenager like Shayan commit suicide? 

He has lost faith in himself, but suicide is not a solution. It costs you your precious life. Shayan had developed a strong courage to kill himself: he was just a child who wished for a bad wish, and it was granted to him. 

The quandrum is, why did fates allow such a thing?