I have had dreams of my funeral. Typical stuff. People in white clothes. Body dressed in white. Pretty strange stuff. But not completely out of bounds. It always happens in Ganga Vihar, the building in which I spent my childhood. And I am kind of amorphously watching from the first-floor balcony as the entire compound below becomes a sea of white.
It’s interesting in the sense that I cannot wait to hear what people are talking about. I always believe that if one has something to say, good or bad, one should say it. So I keep hoping for people to tell me what they think of me. I don’t want to not be able to hear it at my funeral, because I don’t really believe in life after death.
So here really is your chance. Say something to me, about me or of me, here. Use the comments section, but please try not to be anonymous. I would really like to read what you have to say or think.