Our Self-Written Obituaries – Saudha Kasim, Cochin
The 140th death.
[Text and photo by Saudha Kasim]
Saudha Kasim, who was just one calico away from being a cat lady unlike any the world had ever seen, was unfortunately lost to time due to a surfeit of pineapples and strawberries eaten one February night in Cochin. Her sinuses exploded the next morning and she passed on, mourned by scattered friends who RSVPd their inability to attend the funeral.
Maybe Ms Kasim shouldn’t have taken on the arduous task of vegetable patch manager with the apartment association. Too many of the neighbours had spiked the other’s plant beds with hungry caterpillars, acid and dog poop to settle petty squabbles about who-stole-whose-spinach-and-okra. She found herself getting involved, deeply involved, in these arguments. Eventually that had to grind down any spirit of fairness in anyone. And joy. Joy died in Ms Kasim long before she actually did.
The apartment association did hold a minute’s silence for her in the next general body meeting. And the body unanimously voted to pave over the vegetable patch.
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.