Death

In the first week of a new year, Om Puri is dead. At the age of 66. I wonder what Naseeruddin Shah will have to say about him. Did they even remain friends after the ’80s?

Two nights ago, a call from my one-time best friend. His mother is dead, he has flown in from another city and he is almost at the crematorium. For 3 years now, I had been thinking that I should visit his parents. Many afternoons and evenings in my teens, much love and many rebukes and many meals and books in that house. I never made it. Now she is gone, and his father remains.

And he did not think of me when he got the news, even though I am the oldest friend he has in this city.

My father occasionally speaks of death. His own death, too. He is increasingly aware of the finite nature of life. I want to spend more time with him. And I wonder what would happen to my daughter if I were to go next.