Here I am in 2020. And here The Will that was written in 2009:
(Damn Hitchcock. May he rot in hell, eternally. Perhaps he is.)
Hope someone volunteers to be the faithful executioner of The Will. If you do, please stick to the letter and spirit of the document, kind of poetic though it is. Hope you don’t mind it: the poetic part.
Two minutes silence not necessary, but if you insist … get it done at the drain where the The Will is fulfilled. Better still, cheat on the two minutes. And steal a laugh or two, as one knows from experience it is difficult not to do so.
It could be any drain. The more stinky, the better, unless you can’t bear that smell. Or those smells. In that case, please just find the one you can bear, i.e, as stinky as you can bear.
Signed in full sanity,
Dated: 30th June, 2020
Place: Varanasi (not really Kashi, but there is no harm in pretending, if you so wish)
(But The Will applies to any relevant place.)
Note: This is a serious document. Don’t take it lightly. That is, if you volunteer to be the executioner of The Will. Otherwise, of course, you can. That’s your freedom of expression, short of gaslighting.