An Obituary to a Friend

It rained through the night, yesterday; not the usual pitter-patter but grizzling heavy rain with thunderstorm and lightning. The morning broke the news.

A loveable, a laughable (the world might know you in different other ways) plump bloke with yellow-skin and deep-low voice—that’s how I will remember always. Dressed in steel-grey trousers and a white shirt and maroon blazers (when it’s winter), you were a school friend with whom and forty-others I grew up from being a toddler to a teenager.

We may not share the common closed circles but we shared the benches, we played kho-kho, we bunked the school for the morning shows; you belong to the team that never grew up, after forty winters past.  I am not strange to bad news or rude life shocks rather, got immune of great losses yet, your untimely demise sends a shiver run down my spine. Buddy, you left too early but we’ll catch up someday, sometime—one by one. Till then, be at peace, rest peacefully.

Note: I haven’t written to anyone an obituary earlier, but I felt like writing you the first-and-last letter from me, to you. I dedicate this photograph to your memory, with the belief that you might be hiding behind the overcast clouds and looking down at your family, your kids, and all of us. Till we all meet…


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