Stirring Up The Transgressive and Taboo

“You should be an eulogy writer.”

Men and women are not expected to go beyond a certain point, when these are precisely the points they want to cross. When even the bravest man or woman tries to push these boundaries with self-righteous iconoclasm, they do it hoping against hope that the harshest judgment of the world wouldn’t be reserved for them.”

“Half a decade back, one of my most pleasurable hobbies was that of reading the scrapbook of a little dynamite. She used to post naked pictures of hers in her album. I was a silent spectator who enjoyed her conversations with the men who enter her space with the  hope that there is so much that is possible. She was wise beyond her years, as smart as a whip. When we once talked, she said that I should have known her horrible reputation. She knew that everyone on the internet had judged her. I knew it too.”

More than a year back, when I wrote this, she commented below on Facebook, “I love what you write”. When I said, “Thanks, my child.”, someone wrote below: “I was thinking, ‘He has got a hot admirer.’ But, he calls her a child.” She said, “Ah. Saintliness. That must be what he called the girl who took her clothes off for him on the Yahoo Messenger too. But, wait, he must be filing this conversation too in his mind, for yet another blog post of his.”

I had once told her:

“I once had a disturbance in my throat. I feared that it could be because of Esophageal cancer which is caused by HPV. I had once cuddled up with a colleague. HPV can be spread through skin contact, and kissing. Then I rejected the possibility because

  • Being a saint, none of the risk factors really apply to me.
  • The probability of a person of my age having it is close to zero, even among such patients
  • It is such a rare form of cancer.

But, I still had fear for long. After having cuddled up with her, I spent a whole year reading about the diseases spread through skin contact.”

When I left the conversation saying, “If the lady Editor in my office spanks me now, I might not be able to take it though I wouldn’t have minded it much at 16.”, she replied, “Yeah. 16 year olds have such a weird definition of spanking.”

Today, when I gathered that she had committed suicide very recently, I wondered, “Why are people with alternate lifestyles more likely to commit suicide, even when their IQ’s are extraordinarily high?”

Years ago, when I used to read her Orkut scrapbook, she was fifteen, and an Ayn Rand admirer. Her profile picture was that of the Italian actress Alida Valli. Unlike the men who stalked her, she had excellent language skills. When someone called her a snob for being a grammar Nazi, she said, “When I was a child, I used to read the text books of my seniors with the help of a dictionary. No one ever helped me.”

Years later, when I asked, Do you still speak like Gail Wynand: “Don’t nobody ever help me.”?, she said that she liked this line on my blog:

“Gail Wynand could easily grant his fellow men a lot many things that they couldn’t have granted him, but respect was not one among them.”

When we met on Facebook, she said that Philosophy aside, your blog is so beautiful.” And that this passage took her breath away:

“School doesn’t value perseverance. If you do well, at most you will be called a good boy. When I topped my class when I was in 4th standard, my parents noticed that I didn’t smile when I took the progress card from my class teacher. They also noticed that the class teacher didn’t smile. My mother scolded me: “There is no need for you to be so smug about it. You should know that no one else opened their text books this year!” I believed it. It felt so good.”

While reading my blog, she would say, “It is beautifully written. But, I know that I cannot agree with you for long.” But, she once said:

“You should be an eulogy writer.”

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