Anthony Bourdain's table on the edge of the world.

It barely sits there

On the edge

Two legs on land

Two in the air

It’s the table

On the edge

Of the world

It’s before he cleaned up

It’s after he cleaned up

He barely sits there

One leg on land

One in the air

It’s a man

On the edge

Of the worlds

He found food

He found friend

He found food

He found friend

On this table

On the edge

Of the world

Two legs were longer

Two legs were shorter

Two legs on land

Two in the air

On this table

On the edge

Of the world

Chopsticks and a steak knife

Singha and Bordeaux

Cheese burger and cobra nectar

Hebrew on a Persian carpet

The Hudson and the Mekong

Entwined, enshrined

On this table

On the edge

Of the world

Do you know him

Of course you do

Do you love him

Of course you do

Do you want to be like him

Talk like him

Trip like him

Write like him

Of course you do

But can you

Eat like him

Sit like him

On this table

On the edge

Of the world

Twinkle in the eye

Smoke rings in the voice

Fuck you with so much feeling

Seven courses in the spoken word

Another 11 on the blog

A round neck tee

Yanked down, almost frayed

Six foot three

Jiu-Jitsu.

He found food

He found friend

He found food

He found friend

On this table

On the edge

Of the world

click to enlarge

You can’t bottle or uncork cool. There can’t be a formula or a college degree that makes you a graduate of cool. On the other hand, you can be cool to start off and go on to tweak that cool. Anthony Bourdain was cool for way too long to think of him any other way. It was his warmth for people, food, the camera, the spoken and written word that made him cool. Hell, it was his warmth for life but that sounds almost too sissy to be attributed to him.

He was cool when he smoked and swore on air, and continued to be when he didn’t or was beeped out.

There’s a Miles Davis album called The birth of cool. That could so easily be Bourdain’s biography.

For long, I saw in Bourdain, an inspiration. He listened. He really did. And that listening made people talk. And it made him talk. Talk a lot. Face-to-face with people, and then that crackling voice over as if it came from your favourite old vinyl record.

He often took the mundane, marinated it in some Bourdain spice overnight, and made it shine, like Graceland.

That someone this cool could take his own life is both confounding and disturbing. For how long was Bourdain dining on this table that was pretty much on the edge?

Imagine someone as cool and accessible as Anthony Bourdain having done a mainstream show on mental health – or for that matter, just talking about it openly. It would’ve made talking about mental health cool, right?

But even celebrities, however indestructible they may be on our screens, are but human, often with the same frailties. Often far worse.

If anything, as the consumers of so much media, with access to our stars, there is a lesson lurking somewhere – be kind.

In India this holds true for our relationship with our cricketers – if and when India loses, to tag and abuse players on social media is a form of torture.

To not like an actor’s performance, and then go on to tag and abuse them is a form of torture. There is the block button. But often the damage is already done.

With Bourdain’s suicide, more so if he was dear to us, we can relook at the way we engage with celebrity. The way his girlfriend is now being stalked is beyond unkind. A little kindness from us can go a very long way. If we find ourselves incapable of that, maybe addressing our own mental health is a start.

To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain and play with it.

– Charlie Chaplin