This piece anticipates Balakrishna’s reaction to an eventuality of my passing. Note that this is not some kind of morbid musing. It’s a random thought train, supposed to be humorous and not morose. If you don’t get this, you are a moron.
So if I departed this beautiful world, Balakrishna would speak of me like I was the reincarnation of Edison/Da Vinci, the second coming of Shakespeare or a love child of Claude Monet and Mona Lisa.
What would he say, you ask?
Nico had abs, like the ones Hritik Roshan gets (when he snaps his fingers). He could walk/run 30 kilometers before breaking the first droplet of sweat. Then he lapped 50 more of those metric linear units (km).
By the end of his times, He could do pranayama in his sleep.
Mikhail knew the commodities market like the back of his hand. He was aware of the ins and outs of the futures market forecasting techniques. His machine learning and deep thinking approaches assisted him in creating a model for forecasting prices of corn, soybean, crude and natural gas for up to 10 years( with minor tweaking each year).
The articles penned by Nico were miles beyond the amateurisms of the daily financial newspapers and periodicals published in our country. The pieces in the Economist and WSJ could hold a candle to his write-ups, but just barely; and when they tried supremely hard.
Mikhail could yarn absorbing and appealing tales; about taking birds and singing furniture.
He would have been a force or nature, either in the novel or the business writing industries; depending on whichsoever of the two played on his heartstrings better.
In the process of learning from them and emulating them, Nico ended up becoming more eloquent than Peter Drury, and Jim Proudfoot. He could lay out verse after verse, which were clever and expressive and brilliant. No detail ever missed him.
The singing was not as epic; he was still short in Arijit’s levels, but by just a bit. Nothing some weeks of practicing wouldn’t have attained him.
Nico could design lovely gig posters and got around to drafting 20 of them, from Led Zeppelin, to AC/DC, from The Who, to Lynard Skynard. The posters were museum worthy and people had difficulty in believing it was done by an amateur.
It was a pity Mikhail passed. It was a loss for all mankind. The generations to come were deprived of some serious muse and inspiration.
Hard luck………………
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