The 128th death.

[Text by Preeti Saini; photo by Srija Sharma]

She never looked nice. Preeti Saini looked like an art work, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.

Nobody was able to paint her in black or white for she existed in her own world of gray. Like her thoughts, Ms Saini believed more in confusions then in clear conclusions. That’s why she preferred dawn and dusk over day and night.

Nobody could fathom the depth of her feelings. She was always lost in thoughts. She spoke in silence. She never initiated a conversation with a stranger. She was always seen smiling at secret jokes. Love was a mystery to her.

Ms Saini avoided people the way the airplanes avoid birds and the moon avoid the sun. And then the day came when life avoided her. She was found dead in her apartment full of half-read books. Her family found piles of letters in her room for her “best friends forever” who lived forever in her heart. On her funeral, it was raining heavily and the ones who loved her didn’t open the umbrella.

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 mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com.