One hour ago, I learned that M. passed away.
Had not seen him in ages. Last time we met, there was him, another friend and me. We went out for dinner, and talked late into the night...
M. was/is a writer. I say is because M. left a legacy, a piece of his soul, imagination and mind behind. He wrote scripts, plays, novels, films...as far as I can remember, M. was always writing. Writing was his life and life was all about writing...
M. was also an avid reader, he'd finish 3-4 books per week, cover to cover...he was into literature, poetry and philosophy. He was also religious, in a liberal kind of way. He observed the ritual prayers and fasted Ramadan.
After his wife's death many years ago, M. remarried twice. Each time the relationship did not withstand the test of time. He ended up single, with grown up kids who had a life of their own.
I was told tonight that M. was always thinking about Death, even contemplating it - as in suicide. But his religiosity forbade him from carrying out the act of putting an end to his life.
He had grown more and more disillusioned with life and people, and the more he immersed himself in writing and reading -- the greater his isolation from others.
This feeling of Isolation comes with age regardless, but it is even more pronounced for an intellectual and M. was one in the pure sense of the word.
Even though his writings were well known, he never sought fame or the limelight, he did not go out of his way to seek recognition, he was very devoted to his art, to his passion, and the outside world of celebrities, he shunned away from...focusing on an inner world where he could escape the mediocrity...
And even though M. was growing more aloof, he never lost his kindness for he was basically a very kind and sensitive person...the world had gotten too tight for him.
I remember one of our discussions, we agreed that the culture of Mediocrity is the prevailing culture worldwide...and there was not much place left for Brilliance - the more mediocre you were the more you excelled in this machine called the world... he then laughed it all off, by saying people who refused mediocrity will end up as drunkards, lost in alcohol vapor...living on the streets...
M. did not drink though...but he saw where he was heading...with or without alcohol...
M. did not commit suicide. He rose for the Fajr prayer, stumbled as he lifted himself from his prayer mat, fell and hit the floor. There was no one around to help him. He crawled to the main door of his tiny apartment trying to call for some help. Help did arrive. It was suggested that he be transported to a hospital or have a doctor pay him a visit. He refused. His son said - My father knew he was going to die and he wanted it that way.
The following day, M. was found dead in his bed.
He said goodbye to the world of mediocrity in which he refused to carve himself a place.
You will be missed M. but you gave it all...
Life is precarious, fragile, vulnerable...and hard, tough, cruel and gut wrenching at the same time...
Or maybe it is Man who is...
In Peace.
