Viva

My name is most commonly misspelled as above. Its the name of a flop girl band in India. Has a cliched association with Las Vegas. And means "long live". Popped into my head due to chain of thoughts beginning with Michael Jackson. So he died, mysteriously, sadly, but most importantly, in the eye of the public. I was sufficiently moved to update my status on facebook in his memory. I saw that many others had waxed eloquent as well. If this guy had died at ninety, in a nursing home, forty years from now, would it have the same impact? No, mainly because people who would have a faint memory of his good music would be gaga themselves by then, but also because living to a ripe old age somehow undermines your achievement. We attribute genius to the van Goghs,the Ramanujans. The Alexanders, the Heath Ledgers move us to eloquence. The lines by Webster "Cover her face, mine eyes dazzle, she died young," pull on the heartstrings and remind one vaguely of Marilyn Monroe. The young are immortalized by death. But somehow the P.G Wodehouses and the Lewis Carrolls don't get the same romance allied with their names. Is this because we consider they got their due by living to a sufficient age? Surely, there is more credit in consistency than in dying early? When I read about these achievers who have led long lives, it seems to me that they have always been filled with a zest for living and a respect for life that I have not found in those we romanticize. I think the greatest character J.K. Rowling has yet created is Dumbledore, the old wild genius. There are probably a lot of Dumbledores we haven't spotted.