Obituaries interest me. I ain’t being morbid here, but just the idea of encapsulating a man’s entire life in 50-60 words and in cases of richer families, 100-120 words attracts me. After obsessing with the idea for sometime, I decided to write an epitaph for myself. Not to be printed, probably, just to be read out to the few lovely people who would choose to remember me, after I die.
” Annie, prominent author and world traveller, died last night from complications arising from losing her mind over preparations for her grandson’s arrival in her farmhouse at Dalhousie.
She was 55 years old, soft spoken and stubborn. She spoke less and smiled more. Always portraying the ‘dumb girl’ look, she was someone who maintained ‘more than the eye met’ life. She believed in taking chances at transformation. And so from time to time, she transitioned from one role to another. From a corporate setup to a central school to a house tucked in the lesser known part of the world, AC escaped the conventional realms of work and made it suit her choices.
She never portrayed the unknown facet of her personality, that of a hopeless romantic. This hidden persona surfaced during her late 20’s to discover her long awaited soul mate , a man who knew exactly what she wanted. Sadly, the protracted search ended when she gave up on her search and went onto adopt Storm, her labrador, who went to live with her for the remaining part of her life. Somewhere in her early 30’s, this stupid lady fell in love with a young man and allowed him to father a life that was born out of wedlock and of which he never knew.
A critic and a cheerful cynic, AC, will always be remembered for the way she made people feel. Mostly shitty, with a touch of the sarcasm (which was her trademark), she took pride in taking chances at making people feel miserable with the hope that they did better while building up on happiness. Her take on building a tapestry of events to love and be loved, is rare and can only be understood by people who’ve been with her, long enough.
Inspite of her long standing battle with addiction to pot, Annie believed that life is this collection of unlimited number of moments, all of which that can be slowed down, but not frozen. And the only reason they could be slowed down, was ‘cos the mind breaks the moment down into fragments which leads to the discovery of the formula to recreate it.Again and again and again. The chain of such causes an inevitable phenomenon. Love. Of everything lovable.
Her friend and confidante for 30 years, Pinchi, described Annie as a changed woman in her last days..”She finally remembered to send me hot paneer pakodas and imli sauce on the winter evening of Jan 8th”, he was heard saying.
Her funeral will be held on the banks of Chail, sometime later this evening. For details of any money she owed you, please feel free to contact her lawyer and check on her will.
The narcissist in me, smiles wickedly at this one 😀