TALKING DEAD

He lay there on the sidewalk

With a sheet covering his body

The wind had blown away a part of the tattered sheet

I could see the smile on his face.

With crowds gathering around his corpse

Unfazed he lay there smiling.

How could he smile with no morsel in his belly

How could he smile with no family around

How could he smile with no one to bury

For once maybe death was his moment of joy

This was his release from captivity of a life so cruel

Muqaddar ka Sikandar song reverberated

Rotey huye aatey hain sab, hansta hua jo jayega…

It was a Sunday morning and I had cleaned my car. Made sure every inch was clean and shining. Checked the fuel, air conditioner, music system and most importantly the seat behind. Before turning the ignition put up a small board on my bonnet, Last Mile Caretaker.

Drew my car close to the roadside and was helped by the crowds around to gently put the body on the back seat. I opened the boot and took out a packet from which came out two things. One was a clean piece of white cloth that was neatly put over the body. Next came out the flowers which were sprinkled over the body and a garland round the head. Everyone had to be given a decent burial. That alone was my dream job and I would do it one day in a week. Everyone in the vicinity knew my number including the police who would be most helpful in getting the paperwork done.

As I started the car and drove it to the next red light, someone tapped me from behind. I thought it must have been the beggar woman with small kids wrapped around her asking for alms but no, she was outside the car and with the air conditioner on, all the windows were tightly rolled up. Once again felt the tap….Oh it was my passenger behind….

Hey it’s me

Ok, what do you want?

Why don’t you give the woman some money? You seem well off and she needs to feed the kid.

No, I don’t feel like giving on these street corners. It’s an organized crime going around here. She has all her limbs intact yet she doesn’t do any work other than stretching her hands with a bowl.

You think jobs are that easy? I too had everything working yet no one gave me any work. Come on, you are a good man and a tenner will not rob you off your riches.

Stop sermonizing or I’ll throw you out of the car.

You won’t…I know it. Hey should I come in front and talk to you. I’m sure talking with constantly turning your head back to talk to me must be distracting….plus I have seen many a crash on the roads.

No, just stay there. Take this mobile and I’ll dial my number and put my phone on speaker and we can talk. I do this every time. People on their final journey always wished talking to me, so I keep this arrangement ready.

Hey. that’s very thoughtful. But may I ask for a favour…why don’t you give me your iPhone and you use this simple Nokia….I’ve always wanted an iPhone. Once I even flicked it from a person but before I could sell it off, was caught and beaten up badly. It’s a beauty…I would have died for it and now today I have it in my hands...that's truly called wishes coming true.

Reluctantly, I parted with my beauty and we started our conversation again as I concentrated on the road. He seemed more in awe of the gadget in his hand than talking to me, a stranger.

By the way, where are you taking me?

There’s a crematorium nearby and we will reach there soon.

But why are you taking me there. Do you know my religion?

Ok, then I’ll take you to the burial grounds for Muslims.

Do you think people here belong to just two communities?

Ok, I get your point. I’ll then take you to the church burial ground. You could have told me in the beginning to save this conversation. So tell me where should I go?

I am wondering where to go….I have stood outside the Haji Ali Dargah and found people to be very generous. I’ve even stood outside the Mahalakshmi Temple and people there too were very nice and kind. Then there was the Christmas time at Bandra, the people there too were very friendly and opened up their hearts.

What does your standing outside these places of worship have to do with your last rites? Tell me your name and please don’t say Amar Akbar Anthony!

Everyone called me Chotu. All I remember running away from home when I was a small boy after a fight where I hit someone on the head with a big stone. The other guy started bleeding and I ran and ran and landed myself in this city. Did odd jobs cleaning cars, washing cups and plates at many restaurants. But lately have been living on the pavement where you picked me from. Would get some food and money to bide my days. Had been unwell for quite some time and last night had a terribly chest pain. I shouted but no one came. The pain did not last long and then I felt free. You would have seen me smiling when you picked me…that was the end of my misery, my miserable life. Life always hurts more than death.

Sad story Chotu but it still doesn’t help me. Where should I take you?

I used to play football very well when a kid. Was a Champion. I dreamt of becoming a big footballer.

So did I! I too dreamt of playing for big clubs, be a part of the Indian team playing in the world cup and winning…dribble past players just the way Maradona would and then end up with a bicycle kick like Pele….everyone would stand up in ovation, lift me on their shoulders….

Then as I grew up, I just thought I’ll do some work in an office and lead a good life but with little education, no name, no certificate life went towards the road. Fortunately my time here was short and so was my agony.

All this is fine but where should I know take you to, tell me that.

Why don’t you just leave me in the open. Surely some vultures and scavengers will find their meat. I’ll be of some use to someone,if not in my lifetime, surely in my afterlife. Better a meaningful death than a meaningless life. Anyway, I leave the decision to you my good friend but tell me why do you do this dirty work that no other would do?

I smiled and said that the Bible says somewhere, “A man may have a hundred children and may live many years; yet no matter how long he lives, if he cannot enjoy his prosperity and does not receive proper burial, I say a still born child is better off than he.” And so is my life’s mission to make sure people get a decent burial. I can't improve their lives but their last mile I try and make it better. That is the least I can do and am doing.Nightmare for some but that’s My Dream Job.