Our Self-Written Obituaries – Serene Kasim, Bangalore
The 141st death.
[Text by Serene Kasim; photo by Avinash Kaur]
All her life Serene Kasim was told that she always looked like she should be somewhere else. Hers was an unremarkable life marked by a remarkable sense of restless dissatisfaction. Living in the moment wasn’t for her. She was always waiting for moments that never arrived and people who never came.
The greatest (perhaps, only) love of her life went unexpressed. Her potential went untapped (or so everyone said). She always seemed on the verge of something that never materialized. Perhaps her one accomplishment was avoiding the trap and trappings of matrimony in a society obsessed to the point of madness with the idea of marriage.
If there was a Nobel Prize for snark, she would have been a laureate many times over.
But for all that, Serene enjoyed the finer things in life. Music, books, flowers, butterflies, trees, red lipstick, chocolate, cats, and thunderstorms.
Random people she met along the way told her that she should teach. But the thought of edifying young minds made her want to run for the hills. So perhaps in some ridiculous way it was fitting that on an unremarkable Saturday morning she was hit by a van carrying school supplies. Some say her last words as she lay dying were, ‘Oh well.'”
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.