The 51st death.
[Text by Vardhna Puri, photo by Ambika Kapoor]
Vardhna Puri had been alive for a really long time. Or a very short while indeed. She died reading Winterson, her belief firmly placed in the non linearity of time and space.
She stated the obvious, much to her friends’ amusement. She believed no one understood her though to her amazement most people never understood themselves either. Her life’s purpose was to find life’s purpose. Or not. She took pleasure in the little things on some days; others were filled with larger than life banal questions. There were enough books to fill up her shelves and head with strange notions. Love being strangest of them all. She searched book after book but Schulz was the only one who could offer a reasonable explanation. And more than anything else, she loved children. To the extent of being called a ‘baby whisperer’.
She would have liked to believe that she died of a broken heart; that her heart could not deal with the million shattered pieces. But death came to her on a vague morning. In the end, it was all very funny and she left with a smile on her face.
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 firstname.lastname@example.org.