TWILIGHT ZONE

Yama, the Lord of Death was swaying gently in his ivory swing as the musicians played enchanting music while the apsaras danced in perfect unison. While the entertainment show was going on, the Lord had to keep track of people dying all over the earth. Since the time Steve Jobs had accepted Yama’s invitation, things had gone hi-tech in his kingdom with a couple of giant screens displaying not just numbers but full details of the person including his age, height, weight, religion….. There was also a continuous panel discussion going on with some of the best brains making sense of the numbers because the Nation always wants to know.  The Lord Yama had also made his work easier by appointing many sub-agents who did the work for him instead of his having to go to earth every time someone’s death neared. These sub-agents like ISIS, Talibans, Maoists, Cow Vigilantes, Ku Klux Klan and many more who took their work very seriously and possibly The Dark Lord also incentivized them for their superlative performances that made them ever so enthusiastic.

Just when the Lord was almost in trance, the monitors showed a problem as they stopped functioning. He shouted, “Steve! Steve!! Solve this quickly.”

Steve checked the screens and went back to the Lord and reported, “Sir, there is a faint line coming on the computers which reads, #WANNACRY#….this is no ordinary virus but a special one. Give me some time and I shall have the whole system up and running in no time.”

“Steve, this is no virus. I know this signal. This only happens when someone is at my gate seeking mercy. The moment they ring the bell, it means someone desperately wants to come in and see me in person. That mechanical signal will overule all your Apples systems and Pineapple anti-virus softwares.”

All dancers and musicians stopped their movements immediately which brought the giant hall to a pin drop silence as the Lord of Death strode to the Gates of Death thinking, “who could it be crying at my door at such an unearthly hour?”

As he opened the gate he saw two women, one in her twenties and the other in her fifties.  Both were pulling a hospital bed each with a patient in it. The younger one had a chunni on her head and the patient was a young man of 25 years who had suffered major injuries due to a motorcycle accident which had left him bedridden and senseless for over a month now. 

The other woman had salt and pepper hair till the point where head met the shoulder. On the bed she was trudging an octogenarian woman who was completely immobile and paralyzed and living through the two tubes, one from the nose to feed her and the other was the catheter. 

The Dark Lord stopped in his track and remembered having read about two of these women in a blog, Arms & The Woman, a couple of weeks ago. Ok, he said, these are Sheeba whose 25 year old husband Mohsin had been battling for life and Debi, whose mother had fallen terminally ill and both had met at the  ICU of the same hospital where the two sick people were being treated. To His utter surprise it was not the two load bearers but the two dying patients on the beds who spoke up.

The Old Woman’s Cry

Just let me go

I’ve lived a life so good

And nothing more to live for

So my Good Lord

Just let me go.

Just let me go

With a pipe to feed

And a pipe below, this is no living

O my Gentle Lord

Just let me go.

Just let me go

My old man, brother, sisters and all

Are now all up there with you

So my Holy Lord

Just let me go

Just let me go

Limbs I can move no more

With lips, mind and all but shut

So my Lord so kind

Just let me go.

Just let me go

Not mine but my daughter’s pain can bear no more

For she eats, sleeps not a moment more

For her sake O Merciful Lord

Just let me go.

Yama heard the old woman’s cry and spoke for once.

How can I let you go O Mother

The love of your daughter holds me back

For if I let go you

No child will ever love his mother so

In her grasp, lies the life of yours

But for her, I would have long let you go.

Young Man’s Wail.

Mujhe jeene do

I have not seen much of life so far

With many an unfulfilled dream have I

So my Good Lord

Mujhe jeene do.

Mujhe jeene do

My little daughter I wish to cuddle

Hold my pretty wife tight

They await me for so long My Loving Lord

Mujhe jeene do.

Mujhe jeene do

My family’s drained in health and wealth

Give me a chance to bring a smile upon them

O my Gentle Lord

Mujhe jeene do.

Mujhe jeene do

A month without a limb having moved

A month without touch feel and pain

O my Kind Lord

Mujhe jeene do

Yama could hold no more and spoke again to the sick man.

When I first saw you

I had almost switched off the light

But the deep love of your wife

Held me back

For in her hands lies your life

But for her, your name had been registered in my world

I give death and can give life for once and no more

For health wealth prosperity, there are many a God more.

This is No Living cried He.

This is No Death cried She.

It was neither day nor night and here the God of Death faced another dilemma of someone alive but no better than dead and another almost dead but a heart that keeps pumping….truly a twilight zone. Love is joy, love is life and love is pain…love is all you need.

Last Word: Almost a decade ago I used to write a monthly newsletter called Pigeon Poste. Among the readers was the Risk Manager of HUL, Chandra who would always say I was wasting my time in insurance and that I should take to serious writing. One day he made me promise that I would write at least one page a week and so began my weekly tryst with blogging. A week ago Chandra lost his lovely wife Hema to a sudden medical condition. Hema’s no more but she donated her eyes and kidneys. Lord Yama thinks he’s won this time but he hasn’t for Hema lives somewhere in someone…truly a twilight zone.

SS