Revelations
By Vaidya Shankar


I died suddenly yesterday night and promptly got admittance to the local fraternity of spirits. One of them took me to the chief ghost who, after a cursory inspection of my disembodied self, nodded and waved me away, saying, “Tell him the rules”.


It is a new experience, this sensation less, bodiless existence, though, if one is to believe the scriptures, I must have undergone this in several previous cycles of births and deaths.

I realize, however, that curiosity didn’t die with me. I feel consumed by a desire to witness my funeral, which, as per our Hindu customs, should be today, in the morning.

Though I had lived the last years of my life, bitter, lonely and abandoned, I want to see whether my body at least will get a decent send-off. I am hopeful, since in almost all communities the world over, they do an efficient job of disposing of the carcass.

With great difficulty, I get permission from the chief spirit to attend my funeral today. Such permission is not generally given to fresher ghosts, I am informed. The rule book for spirits says that roaming and haunting rights are reserved for seniors in the fraternity.


However, a wise old spirit, apparently with veto rights, intervened on my behalf, and so here I am now, at the cremation ground.

I hover around the ground trying to locate my body. The area has a deserted look.

Then I see him, unmistakably the undertaker. He is inebriated and ‘ready’ for his day’s work. He is standing near a body lying on a pile of wood, ready for the cremation.

The body is mine.

I am appalled that there is no one else around. Where is my son, my brother? Where are my cousins and nephews? Who will light the pyre? I am unable to accept that they would deny me even this!

Then I see a woman approaching. A woman in a cemetery!

I am stunned when I recognize her as Reemu of the streets, my sole indiscretion of yesteryears. What does she want here?
“What do you want here?” growled the undertaker, “Get out, this is no place for women!”

“He is the only one who treated me as a human. Allow me, please, to attend his funeral.”

That was another revelation to dead me. I had spoken just a few kind words several years back…. And here she is, remembering!

“What funeral?” the undertaker spat out the words; “His son refused to give a pie, his daughters filled their suitcases and fled; and here I am with the wretched body. No money, no funeral!”

I watch in amazement as Reemu took out her purse, weeping.

If only I had the necessary ‘equipment’!

I would weep too…… in joy-that there are such people around still.

There is hope for humanity yet.


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An Engineer by Profession with a passion for the written word.