Our Self-Written Obituaries – Tanmayee Thakur, Bombay
The 240th death.
[Text and photos sent by Tanmayee Thakur]
Tanmayee Thakur had mastered all forms of delicate living by 22. Tracing her fingers on the silhouettes of clouds, pressing the petals of sunflowers between her lips, breaking open the sap of fruits and consuming their seeds whole.
Ms Thakur had been exhumed by the brittle divorce of her parents. But she continued to make love to life. She ate cotton candy under lime-green trees, she made love in aubergine parks, she held wounded birds close to her heart.
The circumstances of her death remain mysterious. Her father opened the door to her room one morning, to find her gone. There was no blood, no weapon, no body. It was as though she had dissolved into the silver night… never to return.
She was last seen dancing under the tri-colored lights in a dingy motel room. Glasses of half-consumed Rum littered the bed. Cigarette butts marked with blue lipstick were found in the bathroom. Lines of white powder–not cocaine but antidepressants she took–were also spotted. The last song she danced to was ‘Cavalo’ by Rodrigo Amarante, it is believed.
On her forearm, written in a black marker: “Stop settling, you are not dust.”
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.