Prologue

He woke up in the middle of the night. Cold sweat drenched him.

There were no sounds , but then he didnt need to hear them to
know of the presence. The cold and fear was not new. He knew
who had come to pay him a visit.
Sitting up on his elbows , he could just make out the silhouette
hunched over the chair. A form that did nt exist if you looked at
it straight. A smouldering glow emanated faintly from under the
cowl.
As he watched , the shadows unfurled , giving way to a man , no ,
a man in black , with a scythe ,nestled in the crook of his arm.
Glowing ,ember like eyes opened.
Death raised a smoky finger , pointed straight at him.
His mouth opened , and a vicious growl emanated ,a voice of
untold pain and suffering , a hundred or thousand, no one could
say . And he said Fuck , My backs killing me. I swear I am getting
too old for this !!!
Life sat up , and smiled at his old friend. True , humans have
always pictured them eternally at war , and true, he really hadnt
liked death initially ,those millenias ago, when they were both
made. But , stick people , or energies together , and over time
theyd come to co-exist , as they had.
In fact , truth be told , he was fond of his dark , grumpy friend ,
even though he was inclined to be a little Pessimistic , maybe at
times!!
You dont have a back . Stop being melodramatic life said.
Dont be so fucking literal man. You know what I mean.
All right, all right! Relax. Coffee?
Yeah. I Could use some. You know , that thing you were talking
about does it really make it easier?

What ? The hiding in a body thing? Sure man! I mean look at me.
You dont see me grumbling and moping do you?
Here, he said, handing him the coffee.
Bony fingers crept out of the cowl and gripped the mug. Death
took a sip and let out a blood curdling growl. ooohh thats
good .
You know , you should really put some thought into this.
Death finished the coffee, and got up. gotta run buddy , long
night. Fucking stupid plague
Think about what I said life called out.
I will death promised and faded away in a mist of darkness.
The old man turned around and was going to sleep off when the
mist reappeared.
Forgot my scythe death smiled apologetically when he saw the
old man staring at him and promptly disappeared again. This time
for good. The old man was asleep in minutes , snoring gently.

Chapter 1

It was evening. It was raining. It was late. It was fuck all!!! D was
NOT a happy man. Standing stuck at the signal , like countless
others on that Maximum city evening , he counted off the reasons
why he hated everyone.
ONE: He was a doctor. Unlike many of his batchmates , hed never
wanted to leave his country. Instead believing in ideas of his
country needing him. Yet , now at 30 , he was stuck earning less
than every single person he knew, working longer , and feeling like
a fool every day . Its not that he couldnt but every single corporate
hospital he had approached so far had insinuated in none-too
veiled tones , the concept of relative remuneration i.e having to
earn back for the hospital more than what they offered him , by any
means necessary. And somehow , that was something he couldnt
agree to. Yet!!
Two: He was trying to get a job at some university abroad , but
apparently , nothing was working out as of yet.
Three: his wife was waiting for him, presumably with a very similar
list as the one he was making , only this one consisting of reasons
why he was useless , and he was almost home.
Four: He was wearing an orange raincoat , which was really not
helping his self-confidence.
The signal turned. Twisting the handle, he set his bike (second
hand, Honda hunk ) into a slow crawl. He would nt be able to sleep
tonight. That old guy on bed 178. He was not going to make it, he
was afraid.
D wished he would though. The old mans daughter had begged him
today to save his life. He had told her hed do his best but he could
not give any guarantees, like a machine. While feeling like an
impotent wimp. He knew there was nothing to do for the man.
Cancer had no cure.
Lost in thought , he did nt realize when he reached home. He parked
the bike and pressed the elevator button . at the top floor!!!!
Ughhh!! He groaned.

The buttons blinked , and duly , the elevator discharged him at the
18th floor. He unlocked the door and entered.
His wife was sitting in front of the TV , Munching wafers and
watching some random reality show. She looked up at his entrance
and threw out a cursory greeting. She had been pretty once, but the
ravages of time and struggles of mediocrity had taken that away.
Now she was just a defeated soldier, trudging on ,everyday.
They had dinner and slept off.
Life awoke.
Death awoke.

The Hospital; ward 6; Bed 178

The old man sighed in his sleep , his breath rattling and crackling with pooled up
secretions. Death stood at the head of the bed , a beautiful woman , auburn hair ,
brown eyes ,clad in a slinky black mini skirt and a top that said take me
I hate waiting.
You hate waiting?? Life said , cleaning his glasses while he perched at the foot of the
bed. Is nt that kind of your job description?
Death made a face.
By the way , you do know that your dressing sense is really not suitable for what
you do right???
Aw, I cant help it. This is how the girl sees herself , even if no one else does. This
way , when she wakes up tomorrow , she ll remember how she looked in her
dreams , and maybe feel a bit better about herself. God knows she needs it. Her
brains a fucking soup of neurotransmitters!!!!
You know , I hope this guy makes it. His daughter s totally dependant on him. She
was really pitiful today. Made D very emotional.
You know its strange how people hate me. They think I am the one taking them
away from their bodies. They dont realize its never been in my hand. I am just the
recycler, the one who makes sure that the energy does nt get lost into entropy. My
job is to keep it all running. And yet , every millennia or so, People imagine me
differently, a fucking jackal head once, a headless dullahan next I mean come
on!!!At least I m glad that since you came up with this residing in human bodies

thing , we can at least choose how we look AND modify it a bit . Death looked
pointedly at her own breasts which were straining through her top. I hated being
shaped by people s cultural perception of me!!!
Are you even listening to me ,you narcissistic being???
Not really , death conceded , brushing her breasts.
The old man coughed , and went still.
A golden orb floated into space , with utmost care , death encircled it in both hands
and put it in her purse.
See you in the morning , she smiled at life and faded.
Life journeyed back home ; feeling a little bad . D was going to be sad.

6 months later
D was sitting at his OPD , just planning to wrap up , when she came in with a fever.
He did nt place her at first , being accompanied by a guy as she was. Until she
smiled and introduced herself. She was married now, working as a receptionist for a
school , it turned out. Her fathers death had made her start looking for jobs ,ones
that she would never have felt she had a chance for before. Her husband was a
teacher at the same school , she explained proudly.
You did a lot for my father , she smiled and said while she was turning to go. Thank
you so much. I ll always pray for you.
I really didnt do anything , D said , feeling embarrassed.
No. you tried. And at the end of the day thats really all we can ever do.

Maybe thats the purpose of death. To try.and fail.

D:

I was born in a small city in a country youve heard of , in

stories of suffering and poverty. But it wasnt like that ,
during my childhood. Or maybe , with time , the bad

memories have faded away , leaving shadowy places for

me to build bridges of happier memories around.
But one memory has nt faded. Not yet. The memory of the
road, the freak road.
I was six or seven at that time , and 3 days in a week , my
father would pick me up from my tution class while
coming back home from office . he would be late
sometimes , early at others. Some days hed wait , some
days I would. Our route was standard . walk to the tube
station , catch the train , get off four stops down. Climb up
the stairs-main road, turn right at the first turn onto freak
roadwalk fast till the end of the lane turn left walk
some more and reach home.
Every time we turned into the freak road , my father
would grip my hand a little tighter. I knew , that was when
I was supposed to keep my eyes down and not talk to
anyone.
The freaks were out in numbers , odd women dressed in
strange clothes , their faces painted into masks
representing I know not what. The old freak , sitting at
the crossroad , wearing npthing but a beak shaped mask ;
and soliciting people . the slimy ,clapping freaks , who
were neither men nor women , dressed in weird female
costumes , as if in a parody to the world.
There were lights in that lane , like it was a festival every
day of the year. And sometimes, strains of music wafting
in the air.
One day there was a fight , the freaks had ganged up and
were beating another guy , yelling something about
money or disease, or maybe both. That night my father
hugged me real tight and kept his hand on my head ;and

hurried me along ,even more than usual. I was panting by

the time we turned left.
When I grew older , I started realizing the truths about
freak road. And also walking down it alone. But my
fathers lessons remained deeply ingrained in me. I would
walk fast , and keep my eyes down .
One evening , a girl freak walked upto me , and offered me
something . its for the festival , she said. I pushed her
hand away , and ran , stopping only when I turned left into
my lane and safety. No one was chasing me.
I grew up and left my small back-waterish city in search of
money and education and success. The freak road is no
more , having been demolished to build residencies.
But , sometimes , I dream of the road.
Its evening , and I am walking down the freak road in my
dream. Only this time , I cant keep my eyes down. The
freaks are odd here, in the dream. They wear suits and
jackets, slobbering and spoiling their attire as they check
out the girls soliciting along the road.
The old beaked freak wears a white coat and a
stethoscope around his shoulder.He smiles at me and
says , come along boy , you need me to take a look at you?
I can fix you up real good , protect you from the plague.
Another group of freaks, with their Office ID tags askew,
are busy stomping someone or something with utmost
dedication. In their midst , I can barely make out a child ,
bloodied and whimpering.
I walk faster , panicking.

Until I come across the wall built across the freak road. I
turn around and see all the freaks looking at me , and one
of them holds up a mirror.
I am my father , and I am me , holding my hand.
I know what I must do then , so I turn around and walk
through the wall as if its nothing.
But no one s holding my hand anymore. The child me
whimpers from behind the wall. But I put my head down
and walk ahead , as I hear the fading screams , my
screams from behind the wall.

Chapter 3
The first time she met the boy, she had been playing by the old village well. She
had been playing with her doll , and humming to herself , lost within as only children
can. She didnt notice him at first , and was startled to see the boy , sitting alone in
the clearing. Curious , she crept up .she had always considered this place her own
sanctuary, a land shaped by her imagination where a bird could become a fairy , or
a well an eternity.
He was crouched upon the dirt , scooping up dirt with his grimy fingers and mashing
it together , as if he was trying to build a sand castle, only with mud. But the shape
was not holding , the mud stubbornly resisting his childish attempts to mould it to
his bidding.
She stood and watched him in silence for a while .Then , she asked him what are
you trying to make?
The boy turned around to her and smiled and shrugged. And said ..something .
but what he said she could not recall.
She stood watching him for a while, but after a while , she walked away and left him
to his play
Over the years , she grew up and got a good job. Her parents were proud. She was
married to a young doctor. They were blissfully happy. He loved her , and took care
of her to the best of his ability. Small things , a bunch of flowers, a chocolate to let
her know he missed her when she was gone . Holding her , when she cried after
watching a sad movie . Giving her strength , when her colleagues were unfair to her.
Fighting with her when she wanted to give up. Days passed by , and then months ,
and finally years and decades.
She was an old lady now , and had no regrets when the fever came. Her husband
had been out of town. Somehow she knew then that this was the end. She did not
call anyone , did not drag her tired body out . She calmly lay in bed , wrapped in her
favourite blanket and waited for death.

Her fever spiked , and her senses started to blur .

There was a woman , a beautiful woman in a mini skirt and a black top. And
someone , a man, who looked awfully like her husband. She tried to speak up , say
something , but she had no strength left.
The man held up a hand. She heard him say , no let me take her , you have no
dominion here. The auburn haired girl in the mini-skirt nodded , oddly deferential.
Who is she ? she wonderd dully.
With utmost gentleness , her husband lifted her up in his arms and carried her out
of her bed.
Where are we going?
He carried her down the stairs-out of the front door onto the garden path. There
was a drizzle ,and everything seemed foggy to her , but wether it was because of
her delirium , she could not say.
Her husband carried her , and cooed to her almost there , almost every few
minutes .
And suddenly, magically she found herself next to the old well of her childhood. He
lay her down gently on the ground , and looked at her and smiled, untold sorrow in
his eyes.
And she understood. Everything. She reached out her right hand and dug it into the
dirt ;somehow she knew where the dirt had been moulded into odd,mis-shapen balls
by an unknown little boy, decades or eons ago , she could not remember. And she
could feel her energy ebbing , as it leached into the soil.
Her husband knelt beside him , and tears streaming down his face, started
moulding the clay . only now , it was taking shape. An arm-a leg eyes and lips.
As her eyes closed forever, she remembered what the boy had told her those years
ago.
The little girl sat up in the dirt and took her creators hand.
They walked away , leaving her body next to the old well of eternity.
Only once the girl looked back , but she did not see the old womans corpse. Only a
great tree next to the well , its leaves gently rustling in the breeze.
And THAT is the story. Death smiled at life.
But , what is this story? I dont get it . Life muttered.

Why , of everything and everywhen of course , and I am the only one whos meant
to understand.
Death smiled and got up.