The Great leveller!

Last night I had a dream, in which I died a peaceful death. There are few things as intriguing and mysterious as death. The thing that I really romanticize in death is the fact that it is the only thing that unifies all animate entities. I would (if it is possible), be really interested to know what people would remember of me, after I died, and more so, what their reactions would be at my death.

Let us not infuse this with emotions but instead look through an objective stand point. If anything, I would like to be remembered as an enigma! I say this, because, I know how so many people have claimed to have known and understood me, and yet, they quite haven’t. Infact, I feel this is the same of every person we meet in our life time. Isn’t that the reason, why death of a person itself is so intriguing? I remember, the first time, I was confronted with death. It was when my mother’s youngest brother died of a fire accident. I was 6. I remember my mother breaking down inconsolably, at the news. It was the shock of the gruesome way he died that augmented her grief, as also the fact that he shall no more be a part of our lives. It did not have any effect on me, and I was infact left at home to play, while they went to the funeral.

When I was 15, my paternal grandmother, who had literally brought me up since my infancy died, all of a sudden. That was the first time, since I got my senses, that I saw my father break down. We left immediately, and when I saw the body of my grandmother laid down, strangely enough, I did not miss her. It was the moment they lifted it to be buried, that the sudden realization of her physical absence plagued my mind, and I cried. I cried so much that, death, that day, lost its tragedy to me. I have lost all of my grandparents, and I haven’t cried. I find myself in the same position as I was when at the age of 6. Only thing being that, I now can feel the implications of death – the physical death.

Then there is a death that happens much more frequently; one that isn’t physical. It is the murder of a personality that others do – of you. A personality that you are typecast in as, and then one day, they say, ‘I never thought you could be so’ – ‘you are no more what you were’! That is when I realize that I am not a human! That somewhere in the course of life, I have become a typecast and lost my right to be human. And when a person dies such a death, even then people remember, not him, but his cast, his role, and his mask, that they had put on him, and had somewhere down the lane become his identity. It is revolting to me. Yes, I want to be remembered as the most mysterious person. I want people to wonder… “Hmm.. and I thought I knew him!” And probably, I would be standing right there, next to them, smiling, saying to myself, “That’s what you thought.. “