Of Death

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It is evident from my timeline that I haven’t written in a while. It is not a lack of inspiration that kept me away, but the constraints of time.

As ominous as the topic of death is, I have spent some alone time pondering about it. Death is a part of life, as Mrs. Gump would say, which is why it is sometimes mentioned nonchalantly over tea breaks and such. The discussion got a little serious when everybody started picking sides of the death they would prefer.

The ideal way to die.

For most people, the answer is the same- they want to die suddenly and instantly. Preferably in an accident, or while sleeping, or both. As painlessly as possible without agony.

I fall on the other end of the spectrum. I’m not an advocate of pain, but I’d like to leave on a deathbed, surrounded by the people who truly care about me. One could call it a traditionally fairytale way to bid adieu, but who doesn’t want a happy ending? I would want to look at their faces in my last few moments. I would want to forgive and ask for forgiveness, before I’m taken away- I’d like to leave with a clean slate. I would want to tell the people I love, that I love them and how much they mean to me, one last time. I want to say my last words, with all the wisdom of my life. I want to die being content. I want to embrace death making peace with life.

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Languidly Cynical

I’m not a romantic but I’m not one of those cynics either who discredit the phenomenon of love completely. I am one of those cynics who believe in the existence of romantic love but know that its existence is almost Utopian, that very lucky few will experience it in its true sense. I’m the one who, when they hear their friends say “I’m in love…”, can’t help thinking- ‘Love’? Yeah okay. Let’s see how long that idea lasts.

But admittedly, I don’t hate love songs. They make me believe in a make-believe world of perfect people where love in its purest form exists. In that world, a sincere man wearing a hat says “It cannot wait… It is our fate, I’m yours”; a lonely guy promises to wait to two more years for his girl and promises to pay the bills with his guitar; a goofy teenager loves his girlfriend’s flaws because it’s her it all adds up to and the bottom line is he’s in love with her; and a man asks a woman to let him love her until she learns to love herself. Nobody in that world calls a woman (no matter how endearingly) “shorty” or “bitch” or refers to her ‘ass’ or use any crude/ filthy innuendos. These things may or may not happen in the real world, but that doesn’t mean that I will hate listening about something as wonderfully happy. For the same reason I also believe in- Santa Claus, inheriting money from a rich unheard-of relative, my favourite pair of shoes never wearing out, the non-existence of politics, me being a dog-whisperer, dogs going to heaven, being fit without working out because climbing stairs to the office once-a-day is exercise enough, and accidentally running into Bradley Cooper and us getting along fabulously. I could go on but I won’t digress.

So, if a toddler listens to these love songs and sets high standards dreaming about the perfect partner who plays the piano and says “You’re amazing just the way you are”, I say, let them. The real world needs them to stop making bad life decisions that affect them permanently at an age when they don’t even know how to spell ‘prophylactic’.

And if you truly believe in perfect romantic love and soul mates, I envy your rose-tinted glasses.

And if you have lived it, well… good for you. Now go back to living in the Diana Ross-Lionel Ritchie song, you don’t belong here.

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