Writing my own obituary is scary. But, it’s fun. What I write below is not what I expect anybody to say, it’s something how I always wanted to remembered. Seeing our own death is daunting. But, when you write an obituary, it reminds you your importance in the world. That is the only reason why I wrote it.
And the day comes, when Nivedita, finally breathed her last. The girl who smiled, and faced every obstacle with a laugh. The girl who embraces criticism like an old friend. The girl who was different from the rest. The girl who was wise enough to realize her worth but modest enough to consider herself better than the rest. She is gone. And what does she leave? Love.
She knew how to love, like no one else. She wanted to change the world! But did she? Yes, she did. Not with money and power, but with love and imagination. She taught each one of us to be unique and creative. She never took her seriously, and that is what you learn from her. She loved experiments, and that is what she did always. Experiment: with hair, with clothes, with friends, with love, with jobs and with life. She discovered her style, her life. This is a privilege most of us don’t experience. She was lucky! In ways, none of us can ever imagine.
She was surrounded by her friends, from school, college, jobs, her family, her loved ones. She was loved by all, will be missed by all. She was lucky, her destiny shaped by her own actions. She fought, rebelled but did what she loved. She expressed contempt in things she hated, admiration in things she loved. She knew who were friends, who were enemies and who needed her the most and who used her for their own purposes.
She was patient, she was forgiving. She was intelligent, she was talented. But was she perfect? No, of course not! She was imperfect in all respects. She did not know how to cook, she did not know how to handle children, she was shy in public, she did not go by principles, she was not organized, her rooms messed up, she didn’t tidy things up, she was rarely on time for anything, she was lazy and loved procrastination. But she was loved, no matter what. She was loved by all.
Today, as she enters her eternal sleep, she doesn’t realize the impact she left on the world, they way she shaped the world, she was thinking in a way no one else thought.
She never feared death, because the people who fear death are the ones with regrets. And Nivedita? Well, she had no regrets.
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In Loving Memory