Thanks for everything, Marquez!

The news is everywhere, now. So are the tributes and eulogies.

Somebody who had lived to tell the tales, doesn’t die.

D. knows that better. Pull her aside and ask about her job, she would crib and cringe like most of these corporate folks: “I lurk  in the dark all the time. I strike at the precise moment. For all that hard work, I get to take away only what little I can. The rest goes onto live, as it always had.”

A story teller doesn’t just live in his stories, but in everyone who had taken the tours of his worlds, on the magic carpets weaved with his words. Marquez had absolute control of that magic carpet. That’s why those rides were / are/ will be so fun, so engaging and so enlightening.

There’s always this tinge of sadness when curtains fall down. It also happens to be a moment to show gratitude, to give that standing ovation.

Thanks Marquez!

Thanks also to your grandmother, who told you stories with a ‘brick face’. To your mother, for everything. To your friends and colleagues, who kept you going despite the distractions. To your wife, again, for everything. To the daughter-you-didn’t-have, because dads of  darling daughters tend to ignore the world.

Thanks for your words. Thanks for your worlds.  Thanks for letting us in there.