The ghat of the only World
Amitav Ghosh
A dying man,an expatriate from Kashmir, asks the author to write something about him after he is gone.The following piece is what Amitav ghosh wrote to keep his promise.
The first time that Agha Shahid Ali spoke to me about his approaching death was on 25 April 2001. the conversation began routinely. I had telephoned to remind him that we had been invited to a friend's house for lunch and that i was going to come by his apartment to pick him up. Although he had been under treatment for cancer for some fourteen months. Shahid was still on his feet and perfectly lucid. except for occasional lapses of memory. I heard him thumbing through his engagement book and then suddenly he said: ' oh dear. I con't see a thing.' there was a brief pause and then he added: "I hope this doesn't mean that I'm dying......
Although shahid and I had talked a great deal over the last many weeks. I head never before heard him teach on the subject on death. I did not know how to respond: this voice was completely at odds whit the content of what he head jest said. light to the jocularity. I mumbled something innocuous: No shahid - of course not. you'll be fine.' He cut me short. In a tone of voice that was at once quizzical and direct. he said: 'When he happens I hope you'll write something about me. '
The ghat of the only World.
Amitav Ghosh
A dying man,an expatriate from Kashmir, asks the author to write something about him after he is gone.The following piece is what Amitav ghosh wrote to keep his promise.
The first time that Agha Shahid Ali spoke to me about his approaching death was on 25 April 2001. the conversation began routinely. I had telephoned to remind him that we had been invited to a friend's house for lunch and that i was going to come by his apartment to pick him up. Although he had been under treatment for cancer for some fourteen months. Shahid was still on his feet and perfectly lucid. except for occasional lapses of memory. I heard him thumbing through his engagement book and then suddenly he said: ' oh dear. I con't see a thing.' there was a brief pause and then he added: "I hope this doesn't mean that I'm dying......
Although shahid and I had talked a great deal over the last many weeks. I head never before heard him teach on the subject on death. I did not know how to respond: this voice was completely at odds whit the content of what he head jest said. light to the jocularity. I mumbled something innocuous: No shahid - of course not. you'll be fine.' He cut me short. In a tone of voice that was at once quizzical and direct. he said: 'When he happens I hope you'll write something about me. '
Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean. 
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