The 71st death.
[Text by Nandini Nair; photo by Anupama Sivan]
Nandini Nair, reporter and editor, 32, passed away early this morning. She was at her yoga class and was determined to do a handstand. This was despite the warnings of her parents and sister, who always doubted her upper-body strength. The end was swift and her last thoughts flitted between whether she had Harpiced her commode the previous night and if Toni Morrison’s new book would be excellent. If she had any last words it would be have been – ‘I should have listened to my family.’
Those who knew Ms Nair (and there weren’t too many) believed her to be loyal, funny and stupidly conscientious. They all confessed that she made a killer dal and had an odd liking for sparkly lights and fireworks. She was never badass, but made up for that with her caustic opinions and judgments. She was ruthless with puns and adverbs; duck faces really bothered her; sloth and gluttony were the cardinal sin according to her.
She died without figuring out commas.
Ms Nair always hid her ‘light’ under the proverbial bushel, firmly of the opinion that the best books are unwritten and the smartest people unknown.
She is survived by leaning bookshelves, a half-full vat of dal and very clean house.
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