The 263rd death.

[By Harsh Roy]

Harsh Roy died at the tender age of 21, in the colorless room of a hospital in South Delhi, his hand being held by his love. In his last moments, he was being yelled at for not revealing his sickness until it was too late, but he went away peacefully, knowing her anger was coming from a place of love.

He was a student, alone and quiet, drowned in literature. His room was a mess filled with books, out of which Dostoyevsky and Murakami stood out. He was also immeasurably in love with nature and writing.

Deeply influenced by music and art, he believed they were the meaning of life. A person, no matter how alone and defeated, could always turn to them and find solace in their warmth. He was passionate and enjoyed talking about them for hours with his loved one.

He had travelled a lot, and had filled his albums with pictures, and his memory and soul with experiences.

He lived a life that could be described as boring, but it was his life and he lived it the only way he knew how.

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, with a photo of you or your world, at mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com.