Our Self-Written Obituaries – Esha Jamal, Delhi Farewell Notice by The Delhi Walla - January 30, 20220 The 269th death. [By Esha Jamal] It was On the wind of yesterday That her fragrance came to me When that closed book Fell from my hands Strewing forgotten petals Of a long pressed rose From between its pages It was then That I remembered her Eyes that yearned For once they too had dreamt But when dreams remained dreams And time kept passing They were Like everything else Disburdened From everyday And as memory Stole out From where Her hands had last Imprisoned it It was then That I remembered her For few now did And few then did Forgotten Before she was gone... 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
Our Self-Written Obituaries – Ameer Hamza, Gujranwala Farewell Notice by The Delhi Walla - January 30, 2022January 30, 20221 The 268th death. [By Ameer Hamza] "The life i craved for, was the life i hated most." Here lived Ameer Hamza, in the filthy streets of Gujranwala in Pakistan. He was a nerd, always immersed in books. His life was full of hopes, that he didn't hope, love that he didn't love. His favourite writer was Kafka and he was in the same conditions that were discovered by Kafka; Kafakesque. He loved poetry but always afraid that his poetical attitude was disturbing his family's dream for him. He never lived with his own will. He asked what does he want but got no answer. Fortunately, he stumbled upon a subject that was meant for him--philosophy. And the question like "who am i? What
Our Self-Written Obituaries – Pahuna, Hong Kong Farewell Notice by The Delhi Walla - January 30, 2022January 30, 20220 The 267th death. [By Pahuna] People close to her called her Pahu. Her last wish was to roam the streets of Delhi and explore the architecture and bookshops, like a free soul. She always knew she belonged there. She would watch a movie, almost everyday. Usually romance or feel-good or romcom movies. She had one hell of a talent for crying while watching almost any movie. Pahuna means ‘guest’. She was not afraid to die, but afraid that one day she would be a guest to the people close to her. In fact, she found the concept of death interesting actually. Like how each civilization had a common notion of an after-life. Like how every significant moment in one’s life reels back minutes
Our Self-Written Obituaries – Harshal Padmakar, Nagpur Farewell Notice by The Delhi Walla - January 30, 20220 The 266th death. [By Harshal Padmakar] "if only my silences could speak, they would talk endlessly about soo many things... " Harshal who was 22 years old was found dead today in his room. The cause of death is unknown, maybe he watched too many movies. He was found with a Murakami book on his lap, an Ali Sethi song playing on his phone, a movie playing on his laptop and lots of crumbled paper filled with verses from his favorite poets. Oddly enough, the entire room was smelling of roses. Harshal was a management student with the most unorganized room in the world. He was a Dreamer, who dreamt of travelling the world, making a movie, Writing a book, Singing for his lover
City Walk – Hauz Khas Village Road, South Delhi Walks by The Delhi Walla - January 30, 20220 A road as destination. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The cool breeze is blowing through the trees. The leaves stir occasionally, like a woman turning in her sleep. Though quietness is not absolute — there are sounds too — a sense of silence does linger around, imperceptibly, as if it were hiding behind a tree. Strolling aimlessly along this partially busy road is like detoxing yourself from your daily existence. The many layers that complicate one’s life are peeled away, leaving one raw and fresh. It is a wonder that no guidebook has recommended a walk along this short route. Tucked in the heart of south Delhi, it is merely exploited as a road to link Aurobindo Marg to the