obituaries to self...

feels like my life has come to an end...
first of all i'd like to thank God for giving me all that i have. then my folks for getting me into this BIG bad world. being by my side after each time i screwed up. bro and raman for trying to get my out of shit all the times. chandan for being a good buddy. my skool for making me a gentleman. my college for making me an engineer. my hostel for the devil that resides within.
all the lovely women, for all the lovely times.

guys, friends and countrfolk... it's time for the rockstar to R.I.P.
i can see them waiting for me to get done with my final post. they were navy blue gowns. like the reapers their eyes can see me. eyes that talk. ask me to come along myself. ask me not to resist.

it was just yesterday that i was having a good time @ the stellar gymkhaana greater noida. we had a team building training. we had to be in the sun regularly alternating it with chilled meeting rooms.
i had shitty food. the water tasted like never before. yukkkk

and when i was on my way back home, i had given up. saoring fever took me by it's stride. my stomach ached like hell in just one arbid corner. got back home to crash in no time after popping a crocin/paracetamol. after years, i slept right next to my mom. i was dying after-all.

got up early morning to rush to the loo. was that the natures call, i asked myself???
but then then mother nature has to have some decency in calling us folks... it felt like the nature calling for a tsunami once again. i was done and dead in not more than 2 minutes. still i sat on my ceramic throne, unable to get up. tried reading yesterdays newspaper. gave up mid-way.
carried myself back to my bed. just to get up again and check out the lovely tiles of my loo.
my rectum seems to have developed a direct connection to my mouth.

my dad suspects, DENGUE!!!
what the fuck???
no. not me.
in fact if i was down with dengue it might as well be cool. everybody's gonna be so concerned. the lovely ladies especially. my fone would just not stop ringing. my old office buddies might broadcast en email to all the employees, requesting B+ blood donors (for the extra cool, sexy and hot ex-employee who was fighting death @ some cool hospital).
ginni puri/shailaja girdhar might wake up then. they would surely want to know if i was still hanging on.

i don't want to die...
my stomach aches while i punch my keyboard. father, nature is all set to dehyderate me.
i want to listen to my favourite music.
still i hear a string of bubbles pop in my tummy.

my kingdom awaits me folks.

i would like to go.