this is not an obituary, neither a eulogy about the humble soul. its about what people made of his departure.
never did one realise that someone's death could be so scary, and ironically, bring you close to your own. it was an inflamability test for just about anything they could lay their hands on. he was buried but bangalore burned.
they mourned, they say. and insisted that others were ordained to do the same. it didnt matter if he meant nothing to the others, it was made sure they felt bad he wasnt anymore.
like a scene out of moses, it was the passover of the plague. anything that carried his picture survived. the rest had a gravestone ready in its name. the mob didnt realise the joke was on them. companies closed early and carried annavaru with them. they thought it was in respect for their star.
they took a cue from mumbai, where they couldnt care less before bringing down a hospital for their leader didnt survive an accident. not that they repented it later. the law there learnt and wised up though. only, their counterparts here dont like to learn from others' mistakes. they like their name in blood. be it at the cost of being sitting ducks as they get pelted by a mob.
sorry, i forgot. thats how funerals happen here. you know, just like that da. adjust maadi.