The 36th death.
[Text by Nammita Bhatia; photo by Sanskriti Mohta]
Nammita (the ‘mm’ was her attempt at being different from all other Namitas out there) Bhatia, 52, finally died of heart failure during siesta yesterday, after dying a thousand deaths caused by boredom.
At the time of death, Ms Bhatia was dreaming of being felicitated as a brilliant debutante novelist. However, it is suspected that she actually died of loving and wanting too much.
Born by accident to bewildered parents on a cold December night (much unlike her warm April heart), she sleepwalked through life in cute rose-tinted glasses, constantly striving to rise above mediocrity (no mean feat). She bore astonishingly bright girls – her only achievements, which, too, she largely attributed to her beloved late husband. A reasonably good singer, she felt young and alive, up until when she dropped dead.
Ms Bhatia often dreamed of a life in the mountains with her books and pets, amidst misty meadows of stillness and scented forests of peace. She will be buried in Mussoorie as per her last wish.
She is survived by an incomplete manuscript.
To celebrate her mediocrity, golgappas laced with vodka, butter methi paranthas and chocolate kalakand will be served at her funeral to the strains of old Hindi film songs.
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