Our Self-Written Obituaries - Abhishek Basu, Tatanagar

Our Self-Written Obituaries – Abhishek Basu, Tatanagar

Our Self-Written Obituaries - Abhishek Basu, Tatanagar

The 253rd death.

[Text by Abhishek Basu; photo by Joyona Medhi]

He would spend his nights traveling. That’s how he’d reduce expenses. It was bound to happen, said the late photographer’s neighbour who wishes to remain anonymous.

All of Jamshedpur’s lines were down since the previous night. It is speculated that Abhishek Basu might’ve taken down some wires with him when he fell from the abandoned terrace near satellite tower.

Ignoring the muted cussings and the paparazzi driven fussings the following morning, Giridhar, the Bihari paanwala had moist eyes at the loss of his one and only chess playmate. When in mood, bhaiya would sometimes get noodles. He ensured that I learn how to use those bideshi chopsticks together with him!

At 29, Mr Basu was known for his notoriety in the industrial township. Among the gossiping aunties his ears would perk up. Among the brawny local goons however, the tiny fellow’s swift hand would go straight for their crotches.

But all said and done, Mr Basu used to make the perfect omelette to accompany his usual ninety ml/s of Old Monk almost every sundown. At times he was caught noticing minute imperfections too, like duration of a couple’s hand holding efforts amidst a crowd. He would even fix my bindi to fit the centre everytime we crossed paths, said the flower seller’s daughter, Hasna. He’d say it brought focus, but I sense a broken heart. Ever noticed the glinting locket by his chest, she asks. He is believed to have had gotten a piece of a glacier for his beloved on one of his treks, she shares.

Meanwhile, from the crime scene, rolls from the film camera which came crashing down with him, get developed by forensics. It was a moment through the curtains of the Sharma household adjacent to the satellite tower from that fated night! A chaotic but astoundingly perfect one nevertheless. Mrs Sharma wore a flirtatious look, which the camera had caught through the mirror, while a scantily clad Giridhar(!) on being caught off guard by the flash was storming out the door to yes, the abandoned terrace.

The last dialed number on Mr Basu’s call records was that of a journalist’s.

Mr Basu will be remembered for his decisive moment.

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.