Our Self-Written Obituaries – Supriya Kaur Dhaliwal, Dublin
The 159th death.
[Text Supriya Kaur Dhaliwal; photos by Katie, Natalie Piper, Yadwinder Dhaliwal, Vrinda Garg]
Supriya Kaur Dhaliwal, aged 50, a poet, writer, visual art admirer who wrote poemy stories about displacement—displaced borders, displaced aggression, displaced grief, displaced ovaries, displaced postcards, displaced lovers and what not—was found dead in her wee two-bedroom apartment-cum-writing studio located above her café-cum-library called Woolgatherer’s in the Himalayan town of McLeodganj. At Woolgatherer’s, several thinkers, artists and writers sipped coffee, read books, left poems for other unknown visitors and indulged in woolgathering, the purposeless art of mind-wandering.
Ms Dhaliwal’s departed soul has left behind burdensome number of poems that never found a home. Traces of their melody were drawn in Ms Dhaliwal’s not-so-melodious voice till her last breath, even until that very instant when she choked on what would have been her twentieth pint of Glenfiddich’s 50-year-old single malt whiskey the evening she died; reported Jamie, the current writer-in-resident at her café-cum-library Woolgatherer’s annual writer’s retreat.
Ms Dhaliwal, for most of her life, found herself shielding from the sub-zero temperatures of Palampur, McLeodganj, Shimla, Dublin, Edinburgh, Montreal and Reykjavik. Her friend Shivang, 65, said, “It was as if Supriya attracted cold winter or the cold winter attracted her.” She also made a movie about the coldness of parking lots called “A Guide to Love in Icelandic”, taking the title from Rebecca Perry’s poem. Though the movie was never released on the big screen as the producers found it too cold and full of shallow poemy anecdotes.
Ms Dhaliwal is survived by several misplaced lovers, many fellow woolgatherers who made her life liveable for half a century and numerous neighbouring monks and nuns who will remember her till eternity.
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