Our Self-Written Obituaries – Dr Santosh Bakaya, Jaipur
The 237th death.
[Text and photo sent by Dr Santosh Bakaya]
Here lies the Mad Hatter!
She kicked the bucket today.
Ah, that reminds me,
she could not tick off many items on her bucket list.
Death came suddenly,
when she was plotting her next book,
that crook shook her out of her complacence
pouncing at her, unexpectedly.
The injustices of the world weighed so heavily on her,
stirring her out of her snug cocoon, making her write and write.
And she writhed on.
But now she is gone, no longer writing, no longer writhing.
That little diary,
the one she used to keep next to her, to trap runaway words,
fell to the ground. Maimed. Unclaimed.
“You are always on a high,”
friends and acquaintances would remark
“I am drugged on life,” she would quip.
Her relentless chatter and those poor jokes
have all gone with her.
If you ever miss her friends,
just go and stand next to a magpie,
and listen to her chirps,
maybe in one of those chirps,
you will find a note, which she left unuttered,
and the magpie salvaged it from her clutter.
“Yes, don’t touch it!
So what if it is a clutter!
It is my clutter, and I have exclusive rights over it.”
Was her remark tongue – in –cheek,
when someone commented about the mess on her table.
And the weird line that they found on her lips,
they say, was once a smile.
Now no more.
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.