Paulo Coelho - Veronika decides to die

A few days ago a young woman the same age as him had sat down at the piano to play the Moonlight Sonata . Eduard had once more felt troubled by his visions of paradise and he couldn’t have said if it was the fault of the music or the young woman or the moon or the long time he had spent in Villete.

He followed her as far as the women’s ward, to find his way barred by a nurse.

“You can’t come in here, Eduard. Go into the garden, it’s nearly dawn, and it’s going to be a lovely day.”

Veronika looked back.

“I’m going to sleep for a bit,” she said gently. “We’ll talk when I wake up.”

Veronika didn’t know why, but that young man had become part of her world, or the little that remained of it. She was certain that Eduard was capable of understanding her music, of admiring her talent; even if he couldn’t utter a word, his eyes said everything, as they did at that moment, at the door of the ward, speaking of things she didn’t want to hear about.

Tenderness. Love.

Living with mental patients is fast making me insane. Schizophrenics don’t feel things like that, not for other human beings.

Veronika felt like turning back and giving him a kiss, but she didn’t; the nurse would see and tell Dr. Igor, and the doctor would certainly not allow a woman who kissed schizophrenics to leave Villete.

Eduard looked at the nurse. His attraction for the young girl was stronger than he had thought, but he had to control himself. He would go and ask Mari’s advice, she was the only person with whom he shared his secrets. She would doubtless tell him what he wanted to hear, that in such a case, love was both dangerous and pointless. Mari would ask Eduard to stop being so foolish and to go back to being a normal schizophrenic (and then she would giggle gleefully at her own nonsensical words).

He joined the other inmates in the refectory, ate what he was given, and went outside for the obligatory walk in the garden. While “taking the sun” (on that day the temperature was below zero), he tried to approach Mari, but she looked as if she wanted to be left alone. She didn’t need to say anything, Eduard knew enough about solitude to respect other people’s needs.

A new inmate came over to Eduard. He obviously didn’t know anyone yet.

“God punished humanity,” he said “He punished it with the plague. However, I saw him in my dreams and he asked me to come and save Slovenia.”

Eduard started to move away, while the man continued shouting: “Do you think I’m crazy? Then read the Gospels. God sent his only Son and his Son has risen again.”

But Eduard couldn’t hear him anymore. He was looking at the mountains beyond and wondering what was happening to him. Why did he feel like leaving there if he had finally found the peace he had so longed for? Why risk shaming his parents again, just when all the family problems were resolved? He began to feel agitated, pacing up and down, waiting for Mari to emerge from her silence so that they could talk, but she seemed as remote as ever.

He knew how to escape from Villete. However strict the security might seem, it was actually full of holes, simply because, once people entered Villete, they felt little desire to leave. On the west side there was a wall that could quite easily be scaled since it was full of footholds; anyone who wanted to climb it would soon find himself out in the countryside and, five minutes later, on a road heading north to Croatia. The war was over, brothers were once more brothers, the frontiers were no longer guarded as they had been before; with a little luck he could be in Belgrade in six hours.

Eduard had already been on that road several times, but he had always decided to go back because he had still not received the signal to go forward. Now things were different: The signal had finally come in the form of a young woman with green eyes, brown hair, and the startled look of someone who thinks she knows what she wants.

Eduard thought of climbing the wall there and then, of leaving and never being seen in Slovenia again. But the girl was sleeping and he needed at least to say good-bye to her.

When everyone had finished “taking the sun” and the Fraternity had gathered in the lounge, Eduard joined them.

“What’s that lunatic doing here?” asked the oldest member of the group.

“Leave him alone,” said Mari. “Anyway, were crazy too.”

They all laughed and started talking about the previous day’s lecture. The question was this: Could Sufi meditation really change the world? Theories were put forward, as were suggestions, methodologies, contrary ideas, criticisms of the lecturer, ways of improving what had been tested over many centuries.

Eduard was sick of this kind of discussion. These people locked themselves up in a mental hospital and set about saving the world without actually taking any risks because they knew that, outside, they would be thought ridiculous, even if some of their ideas were very practical. Everyone had their own theory about everything, and they believed that their truth was the only one that mattered. They spent days, nights, weeks, and years talking, never accepting the fact that, good or bad, an idea only exists when someone tries to put it into practice.

What was Sufi meditation? What was God? What was salvation if, that is, the world needed saving? Nothing. If everyone there—and outside Villete too—just lived their lives and let others do the same, God would be in every moment, in every grain of mustard, in the fragment of cloud that is there one moment and gone the next. God was there, and yet people believed they still had to go on looking, because it seemed too simple to accept that life was an act of faith.

He remembered the exercise he had heard the Sufi master teaching while he was waiting for Veronika to come back to the piano: Simply look at a rose. What more was necessary?

Yet even after the experience of that deep meditation, even after having been brought so close to a vision of paradise, there they were, discussing, arguing, criticizing, and constructing theories.

His eyes met Mari’s. She looked away, but Eduard was determined to put an end to that situation once and for all; he went over to her and took her by the arm.

“Stop it, Eduard.”

He could say: “Come with me.” But he didn’t want to do so in front of all those people, who would be surprised at his forthright tone. That’s why he preferred to kneel down and look beseechingly up at her.

The men and women laughed.

“You’ve become a saint for him, Mari,” someone said. “It must have been yesterday’s meditation.”

But Eduard’s years of silence had taught him to speak with his eyes; he was able to pour all his energies into them. Just as he was absolutely sure that Veronika had understood his tenderness and love, he knew that Mari would understand his despair, because he really needed her.

She resisted a little longer, then she got up and took him by the hand.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she said. “You’re upset.”

They went out into the garden again. As soon as they were at a safe distance, certain that no one could hear them, Eduard broke the silence.

“I’ve been in Villete for years,” he said. “I’ve stopped being an embarrassment to my parents, I’ve set aside all my ambitions, but still the visions of paradise remain.”

“I know,” said Mari. “We’ve often talked about it, and I know what you’re leading up to as well: It’s time to leave.”

Eduard glanced up at the sky; did Mari feel the same?

“And it’s because of the girl,” said Mari. “We’ve seen a lot of people die here, always when they least expected it, and usually after they’d entirely given up on life. But this is the first time we’ve seen it happening to a young, pretty, healthy person with so much to live for. Veronika is the only one who doesn’t want to stay in Villete forever. And that makes us ask ourselves: What about us? What are we doing here?”