Our Self-Written Obituaries – Swapnil Sinha, Patna
The 224th death.
[Text and photos sent by Swapnil Sinha]
At the ripe age of 77, Swapnil Sinha died a child, for he believed that homes belong only to children and that as we grow, homes turn into a carcass of living space; beds become a grave a few inches too comfortable.
Bitter almonds didn’t remind him of unrequited love. Instead, they reminded him of a poor place of growth, a bad home. Perhaps that’s the reason he died while sitting on his chair that was placed beside a kerosene lamp that burnt even as the morning’s glory knocked in. The smell of fuel consumed the scent of bitter almonds.
He didn’t know answers to a lot of questions and he wasn’t interested in finding any, but he was interested in quenching his obsession with odd numbers. Maybe, he had only one dog and had never adopted any other because of his obsession–an entity that subdues ethics at all times once a man grows and the home is lost.
In his old skin, he still had a home when he died. He never wanted to meet the consequences of his actions. Death was better than facing that fear. Quite evidently, he believed that the child is the father of the man.
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.
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