Till dearth do us part

Ringing in a New Year by penning an obit is not how a season should be ushered in. An ending is not the way for a year's beginning.

- Chetna Keer

Losing a dear friend overnight to cancer recently saw many in one's literary circles churning out obits. Overflowings, outpourings of grief.

Popping up on every second post in our literary circle were obits of all shades, sizes and surmises.

The past couple of months have seen quite an outing for the obit.

From Rata Tata to tabla maestro Zakir Hussain to former Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, all gave obit writing a new lease of life.

Blame it, or credit it, on the social media that has spawned an entire nation of obit writers. An entire species and subspecies of social media obit writers, all shades of obits.

Some masterpieces, some plain pieces. Some spell heart, some art. Some more from the head, some going over the head.

In our good 'ol days mapped out upon newspaper editorial desks, obits were indeed grave business.

Not everyone or anyone could hope to don the cap of an obit writer.

In fact, there used to be a senior colleague designated for the purpose. An assistant editor or deputy editor had this delicate task assigned to him or her.