Death of a Stranger

I’m sure that some of you will not want to read this piece or after going through it, wish that I hadn’t written it. I debated about it in my mind but then I can’t pretend that life is fluffy and fun constantly, as much as I would like it to be for all of us. Sometimes it’s also dark and depressing and many of us have been in that place for some reason or the other. 

On June 8th, just a couple of days ago, Anthony Bourdain was found dead in his hotel room. More shocking than his passing was the news that he had killed himself. 

‘That can’t be right. Why would Anthony Bourdain, the man with such a fantastic life, envied by so many, commit suicide?’ was the first thought that came to my mind. 

As I’m very certain it came to most people’s minds that were in some way affected by his death. Especially since people who were close to him, including his mother, could never have imagined that this is how his life would end. The rest of us were just fans of his shows on television or his books. And it was his life that was the envy of every food enthusiast.

This morning I received a text message from a friend who had gifted me one of his books recently. Here’s what the message said verbatim:

2 days later - I am still wishing it’s not true. And I have not watched an entire episode of any of his shows. Just excerpts. He makes me doubt a lot of my unending bucket list. It hurts me at a level I did not expect a stranger could. 

I wrote back to her saying that I felt pretty much the same way (besides the bucket list part, since I don’t believe in having one). It’s not possible that Mr. Bourdain, the man with the seemingly perfect life, would take this step. Except that he did. 

So what about the rest of us, with such ordinary lives in comparison? Are we better off? I’m not so sure.

I’ve come across suicide a few times in the past year. Not people I directly knew but people who were close to people that I’m close to. Just one degree of separation, which isn’t very much at all. Recently a friend of mine confessed to me that he had attempted to take his life twice in the past few years. “Couldn’t even do that right,” he said with a smile. This is a man who I constantly share laughs with when we meet - we don’t see each other too often but when we do, it’s always a riot. I never had any idea of what was going on in that head of his and that his mind had been in such a dark place. 

Not to say that my mind hadn’t been in that dark place either, when I had convinced myself after my accident that I would never walk again. 

Why Anthony Bourdain took his own life, may always remain a mystery. I suspect that the media will continue to look for clues, to speak to people he was close to and write about possible reasons for him to have taken such a step. Eventually it will all be speculation because the only person who can tell us what was really going on in his mind when he used the belt of the hotel bathrobe to hang himself, isn’t around any longer. 

Another friend of mine posted something on this subject on social media that is food for thought. 

She talked about how agonizing Anthony Bourdain’s life must have been in the instant that he decided to end it. 

Would you and I ever think of his life being agonizing? The man who traveled the world just to eat at the most interesting places?

She questioned if someone who had lived with such boldness and autonomy deserved the right to say when their time in this life was over.

Our lives are not what they used to be in innumerable ways. With the stresses that we put upon ourselves, are we getting to a point where suicide will not be frowned upon? 

She ended her post saying that withering long past your ability to enjoy life, growing fragile, lonely, fearful, dependent and merely hanging on in purgatorial misery holds no mobility. 

Anthony Bourdain lived his life as he pleased and left on his own terms. Who are we to judge?

If we really want to, we can maybe justify Anthony Bourdain, Kate Spade and Robin Williams (all celebrities with supposedly enviable lives) killing themselves. However, I would like to believe that there is no darkness so strong, that it can withstand light passing through forever. I would like to believe that tears will always stop to make room for smiles. That there are always more reasons to live than there are to die. 

I would also like to believe that my next piece will be inspired by a happy event.

There's Something about Varanasi - The Final Chapter - How much is enough?

Pascal and I met on the last of my 3 days in Varanasi. I was at Niyati Cafe drinking a cup of coffee when we struck up a conversation. Once he found out that I had a food blog and that I had written restaurant reviews for some magazines, he went from being ‘just friendly’ to ‘I love food - I want to be you’! 

“Do you know why I keep coming back to Varanasi?” he asked. Of course I didn’t since I had just met the guy! “It’s the lassi (smoothie Indian style) - they have the best lassi!”, he said salivating. I laughed out loud but also couldn’t help agreeing with him since Aparna and I had had the best lassi of our lives the previous day. Even better than all the ones I drank during my Punjab trip the previous year. Who would have thought?

Pascal was born in Switzerland 26 years ago, stands 6 foot 2 inches and weighs a scrawny 62 kg. Born in a reasonably wealthy family he decided that all he wants to do is to see the world. He works for organizations like Greenpeace for 4 months in the year and travels the rest of the time. India is in his itinerary every year. Travel is on a shoestring budget, staying/eating at the most basic hotels/restaurants or with friends, unreserved compartments of trains and non-luxury buses for commuting. 

“What makes you do this?” I asked. “You could have such a comfortable life back in Switzerland.”

“It’s boring”, he responded. “I love my country but everything is the same. I come here and every place I go to has something new to offer.” 

“But don’t you find it hard roughing it out like this? It couldn’t be very easy?” 

“It’s easy,” he replied. “If you’ve always had everything, you realize that money isn’t what’s important in life.”

That sounded profound to me, especially coming from a 26 year old. It reminded me of my favorite line in The Fight Club - The things you own end up owning you. 

When most people at his age would be working to climb the corporate ladder, spending their earnings on possessions, clubbing, partying, Pascal had figured out that he didn’t want any more than was absolutely necessary. 

“All my possessions are in these,” he said pointing to a small duffle bag and a backpack. “My parents force me to carry a cell phone.” He laughed as he showed it to me saying that he didn’t have a connection. “When I go to a place that has free wifi, I send them an email to let them know that I’m okay.”

I, on the other hand, while in Varanasi, had probably used my phone a hundred times sending text messages, making and receiving calls. 

“They must worry about you,” I said. “You should stay in regular touch with them.”

He told me that he had thought of becoming a sadhu for a couple of years, to experience their lifestyle, to not have any emotional ties. “I think I would make a good sadhu”, he laughed.

“There must be a reason that you are the way you are,” I said.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never lacked anything, I grew up in a normal home with parents that have always loved me.”

“When was the last time you sent them an email?” I asked. His smile told me that it had been a while.

“Let’s go to the Blue Lassi Shop,” he responded looking at his phone. “They have free wifi.”

                                                                **

The day I met Pascal, he was on his way to Rishikesh and decided to stop in Varanasi for a few hours. I got an email from him a few days later saying that he was in Vashisht in Himachal instead. “I still haven’t made it to Rishikesh,” he wrote. “I’ve been here since 7 days - it’s so beautiful here. I hope to meet you again soon.”

I hope to meet you again too, Pascal.