The 29th death.
[Text by Jairaj Singh; photo by L Coffta]
It isn’t clear whether he is dead today, or still alive. What we do know is that Jairaj Singh isn’t here. It is also evident from what we know of him that even if he were around, he wouldn’t have wanted to be here. This puts us in a spot, a pickle of a situation if you like, of being there but not literally being around, if for nothing else but a momentary sense of self-deprecatory amusement.
One can only take refuge in imagination to wonder out aloud where Mr Singh would be right now, or would have liked to be, if he were actually around. In the great Himalayan hills, waist-deep in Tirthan, fishing trout? In a smoky bar, drinking whisky, talking about Poe? Or a room filled with books, writing or dreaming, or whatever comes first.
What can be more poignant than imagining the person to be where he would have felt most alive.
The joy of being alone. The great irony of life: You come into life as you take leave of it – alone.
Greek mythology would like us to believe that a person dies more than once in his lifetime. The physical death is only an aberration in the long meditation we called life. Now let’s all go grab a drink. Mr Singh would have liked that.
Our Self-Written Obituaries invites people to write their obituary in 200 words. The idea is to share with the world how you will like to be remembered after you are gone. (May you live a long life, of course!) Please mail me your self-obit at email@example.com.