The 113th death.
[Text by Srija Sharma; photo by Preeti Saini]
She dozed off to a deep slumber while sitting in her library, a work of lifetime. And never woke up.
Srija Sharma wasn’t the one who believed in clichés. So there was no coffee or rain pouring down while she read.
She is survived by a husband, son and daughter, with whom she wished she could share her passion of Khaled Hosseni, Agatha Christie, Emily Brontë, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Mark Twain and Sidney Sheldon.
She wasn’t the cute girl who visited Oxford Bookstore and sat in a corner, reading and watching the time pass by from the nearby window. She was seen haggling with vendors of Daryaganj for the hardcover copy of the book she “so wanted”.
Her children are considering selling her collection of books to make up for the money that she spent every weekend eating fried masala momos and red velvet cake. Strange paranormal activities have since happened in that room.
During her younger days she could be seen coming out of McDonald’s with three bags of food. She made it a point to distribute food among people every month because she knew how horrible it felt to be empty stomach. She was doing her part.
Her older days were however spent trying to perfect the Blueberry Cheesecake and Hazelnut Pastry that she thought was overly priced at Wenger’s.
On her funeral Pink Floyd’s ‘Coming Back to Life’ was played. Quite an irony if you read the line again! And people were forced to drink a glass of cranberry juice. Something for which she got disgusted looks throughout her life. If you are reading this, drink one.
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