Our Self-Written Obituaries – Pragya Priyadarshini, Bangalore
The 161st death.
[Text by Pragya Priyadarshini, photos by Harshita Rane]
I would have loved to tell you that Pragya Priyadarshini died dancing–in her only ten minutes of happiness each day (she kept them aside like gulab jamus in a bowl—to be relished upon at the end of a banal meal), but she didn’t. She died instead, in another one of her catatonic spells of sadness. There were no signs of struggle, which reaffirm the theories of a death before death, of numbness, as she called it. This time, it really took her.
As always, she was living out of her suitcases at a friend’s place. Many say that she was craving for a solid-wood bedside table these days, which she believed would be a sign of permanence and stability (Alas, she slept on a couch!).
Of her two suitcases, one was found full of diaries from as early as the year 2000, when she yet hadn’t met the monster that killed her. Most of them are unchecked to-do lists and angry scribbles to the one who got away. Nothing of note.
She is survived by her patient-to-death lover and her perennially homeless cat. Prayer service (mostly Kimya Dawson songs) and cat-auction will be held tomorrow, over Skype.
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.