The death of #SushantSinghRajput is hanging over me like a heavy cloud of rain that refuses to rain down & refuses to go away. It’s just there projecting it’s heaviness .
I wonder why .

I watched a few of his films , liked his performance & followed him on Twitter for a while because of interesting tweets . My involvement ended there.

Then why is his death hanging over me? Like a personal loss, to the point of tearing up?

Because it was a suicide? An unexpected end to a promising story ? Because I accidentally saw photos of his lifeless body that was being circulated all over social media?
Maybe. Maybe Not.

The more I try to grapple with this unexplained grief , the more I realise it’s because of some weird kind of identification with him that my mind is projecting.

An introvert. In an extroverted world. Trying to fit in.

Imagine talking about quantum physics in a Bollywood party & getting blank stares and a polished “excuse me” before being brushed aside .

Imagine laughing a little too hard at a banal joke that doesn’t make sense .

Imagine having to perform constantly - only there’s no pack up on the other side of the camera.
Imagine having to learn to glorify mediocrity and unlearn the wonder that the movie world inspired in you in your house in Patna

Imagine the mockery of his intellect - that he wasn’t even using to stand out , but to fit in.
Imagine the awkward pauses in the small talks he didn’t know how to carry further

Imagine being someone else on a continuous basis & being judged by old friends for being someone else.
Imagine feeling like shit at the end of the day because your new world doesn’t get you & your old world doesn’t like you

Imagine being a stick in a limbo with no salvation except your work.
& then imagine that work being taken away from you.
#RIPSushantSinghRajput