An autobiography

I often talk about my biography - autobiography, in fact. Autobiography because I know nobody else would write one for me. It doesn't matter whether anyone will read it or not. If my blog can have readers, so would my autobiography (point to be noted - I refuse to improve). And in any case, I intend to get it published after I hit the 'bucket'. I think I will leave a note like Kafka - 'destroy all my works after my death'. I am sure that my friends will not change after my death - they will definitely do opposite of whatever I ask them for.

But what will I write in there?? I don't want a chronological detailing. That gets boring very quickly and even more quickly in my case. I'd prefer to draw a time-line for clear understanding of the flow of events and thereafter, category-wise or event-wise or some other criterion. I mean the editor should also have some headache - I intend to be dead by that time anyways. And although highly improbable, I'd love if someone reads it and thinks - he was a nice man.

So with that much decided, what would the chapters be like?? There are some obvious choices - my schools - from MGM in primary days to IIMA in PhD days and how I messed up everywhere, my family and other animals, something about my teachers and my students, my days in mental asylum, my experiments with life, my idiocies and idiosyncrasies, perhaps about my blogs too, my interests - poetry, writing, research, politics, and travel - and my utter failure in all of them, and so on... but considering the practical aspects of it, I think, I will not be able to write a chapter about my death, so someone please ask that editor guy not to forget it.

And the most important chapter - about my crushes, girlfriends, and relationships - although I want it to be the longest chapter, I know it would not be so. If, at this point of the post, you think of me like an aspiring Casanova, I am not talking about the numbers you pervert. I want it to be the longest because I have so many memories of all those moments - so much to say, to miss, to confess, and to be nostalgic about. At the same time, I know it would well be one of the shortest one among all. It takes some courage to say it all and even in death, just like in life, I know I will not be that brave to say it.

And there is one chapter I wish I don't have to write at all - about the regrets of my life. The regret of not studying enough, the regret of leaving poetry, the regret of not seeing enough places, the regret of saying I don't care, the regret of not saying that I cared, the regret of letting go, the regret of not forgiving and forgetting, the regret of moving on, the regret of sticking for too long, the regret of a life full of regrets... Alas! This is one chapter already written!!