seemingly static

 Every once in a while, there's a complete stop in the events that happen to me daily, like when there's a mini vacation in the name of a festival. A few days off of my life. Living another life, another person's sob story altogether. These intervals make me feel unalive. Seeing something recently made me realize part of the truth of life. It was about death; more specifically, your funeral. See, when you die, a dozen people cry, a few apathetically staring at your lifeless body. Other few forget to attend the funeral but visit your grave and a few who do none of the above. The video I watched was about what happens after your funeral. The aforementioned people attending, sit down and snack. They drink tea and eat biscuits. Then they chat about current affairs, and gossip about things they probably shouldn't and the forgetting begins. People try to forget that death occurred. I think I'm one of the few who think about death as happening. The death of an individual doesn't mean that the idea of their existence is over. It usually just means their body doesn't move anymore, the blood in their veins doesn't pump and their participation in the force that is life has ended. Death only kills the body. Ideas are immortal. And when we forget the idea of an individual and what their presence in our life meant, is when the individual is truly dead. I know a lot of dead people for a recent twenty-year-old and no doubt there are people who know more dead people than I do. But for me, the people who've died have left me thinking about their value, their presence, and the meaning of their deaths in my life. I'd begin to name them by now but it's unnecessary. I've spoken elaborately on how they've come to mean a lot to me. Maybe in the future, this blog will turn up to be a defining motif for my existence. I don't know by the time people find it, would I have been dead? Would I be rich? Would I be a filmmaker or an engineer? An artist or a failure? I don't know when they find this at what stage of life would I have been. Alive or dead? But either way, I take to my grave - the ideas that I created, an image of myself that I believe in, and for that I'll be immortal. Only when these ideas remain with those to who they'd bring comfort, that's when liveliness has any meaning.

I take to my grave, the art that I created, the ideas behind them, the stories I want to tell, and
the many happy hours spent forming memories with my friends and with the love of my life. Happy Birthday, baby girl. And now a Happy Diwali.