Cyrus Mistry - Chronicle of a Corpse Bearer

‘ Pun bol ni, bawa, bol ni , just what is it you find so strange? Such a long preamble, but we still haven’t a clue. .’

‘Let Cowsi speak at his own pace,’ protested Rustom. ‘None of you youngsters know the meaning of patience.’

‘Speak, speak, bawa, speak,’ relented Fali, pretending a yawn. ‘But don’t complain afterwards we finished the bottle while you were chewing your words. .’

‘Our revulsion for corpses,’ said Cawas. ‘That’s what I’m talking about, Fali. .’

‘Wah! Such an original point that takes you two hours to make?’ Fali ridiculed Cawas. ‘That’s why you have your job, ghela!’

‘I call it ingratitude,’ said Rustom, nodding at Cawas in agreement, completely ignoring Fali’s disdainful interjections. ‘Squeamishness and ingratitude. That’s if you will call a spade a spade.’

‘It’s as if they don’t want anything more to do with him,’ elaborated Cawas. ‘Or her.’

‘Ya, sure,’ agreed Jungoo, ‘as if they were all just waiting to pack him off.’

‘When the person is dead and gone,’ countered Fali disdainfully, ‘where’s the question of having anything more to do with him?’

Although we had been ignoring Fali’s boorish comments, I could see they were beginning to irritate Rustom.

‘All that bacteria and invisible radiation the scholars and priests keep harping on. .’ said Bomi, joining the discussion. ‘Arrey, I’ve been cleaning corpses for some years now, but never have I found them to be such deadly or dangerous creatures.’

‘ Aae ghela ,’ said Fali again, belligerently. He was already sounding quite drunk, maybe even feeling sidelined in the argument he had himself initiated. He turned his ire on Bomi now. ‘You can’t call them creatures. Creatures are living things. Corpses are dead. Fucking dead.’

‘Yes,’ replied Bomi calmly. ‘But are they dangerous? Like some of the living that we know? Arrey Rusi, just give this fellow something to eat, if you have any ganthias or anything. Again he’s been drinking on an empty stomach. Even though he knows very well he becomes like a hungry beast when he does that.’

‘What! What’s that you’re saying about my stomach? My stomach may be empty, but my head isn’t. Like yours!’ shouted Fali, suddenly combative again. ‘Behnchoad, don’t you put on airs with me!’

‘Shut up, Fali. Stop being so bloody aggressive all the time,’ shouted Rustom, who might have been feeling a little drunk himself. ‘Try and understand what we are saying. .’ Then he called out aloud, ‘Mum-ma. .’

The evening threatened to get completely chaotic, because Fali was not willing to accept a put-down like that. He stood up aggressively, just when Aimai, who had already figured out the cause for all the raised voices, walked in with a plastic plate filled with an assortment of ready fried savouries.

‘Yes, that’s just what we need. Now eat that up first,’ said Rustom to Fali. ‘Not another word from you, and no more drinks until you finish what’s in the plate. Thank you, Mum-ma.’

‘But I say, aren’t you getting a bit carried away here, Cawas?’ Bomi pursued the discussion as if there had been no interruption at all.

‘Why? You don’t believe what I’m saying is true?’

‘Don’t believe everything he says. .’ muttered Fali grumpily, sitting down again. ‘I’m not really hungry, I’ll eat just a bit, anyway. .’

But once he started chomping, Fali couldn’t stop until the plate was empty.

‘Well, no one can deny it,’ said Bomi. ‘But there’s another side to it, too, isn’t there?’

‘At least you could have saved a ganthia or two for the rest of us! Khaadhro!’ Jungoo kidded Fali.

‘Don’t make too much noise, bawa,’ said Aimai. ‘Please. .I’m off to sleep. Rustom, Vera isn’t back yet.’

‘She told us, didn’t she, before going out — she’ll be late tonight?’

‘Then there’s no need to worry, I suppose. Goodnight boys.’ A chorus of murmurs bade Aimai good night.

‘Has to be up at four o’clock tomorrow to wash the corpse that just came in. She and Dollamai are supposed to do it,’ explained Rustom.

‘Oh yes, I heard,’ said Bomi. ‘A fairly young woman got knocked over by a train, while crossing the tracks at an unmanned level crossing. .’

‘My mother is eighty-two. I’ve told her to stop doing this work. But she won’t listen. She says washing the dead gives solace and meaning to her life. . Oh, then she’ll sniffle and sob to herself quietly, whole morning. The grief of the bereaved affects her deeply. .’

‘Poor Aimai, such a kind heart!’ said Cawas. ‘But washing up a train accident won’t be child’s play. .’

‘Sure it won’t,’ agreed Bomi. ‘And to think they still don’t pay our women anything for this service. .’

‘Except that hundred-rupee bonus, once a year at Pateti,’ said Khushro.

‘Oh yes, once a year. Or if the relatives choose to tip them. . Let our union register with the Labour Tribunal, then we’ll take up all these issues, one by one,’ said Rustom.

Excepting me, I doubt if anyone present was aware of the story of Vera’s dismissal from her office. For Rusi at least this discussion, about the horror we hold corpses in, was hardly a theoretical one.

‘What other side were you thinking of, Bomi?’ asked Cawas, picking up the conversation again where it had been diverted.

‘Other side. .? Oh yes. . Just that people are so disturbed by death, so shocked, they can’t accept it. There are those who will cling to their departed. .’

‘Why, of course,’ said Jungoo. ‘Nobody’s saying we are such monsters that have no feelings. .’

‘That’s just the point I’m making. Hardly a week ago,’ Bomi continued, ‘Bujji and I met this young man, thirty-five or so, a bachelor, who had probably been living with his mother all his life. Just couldn’t accept it. Weeping bitterly like a little suckling, squeezing, embracing, touching every part of her—’

‘It’s these — all these priests—’ Jungoo started to say, but Bomi wouldn’t be interrupted.

‘He wouldn’t let us leave with her body. Just a little longer, just a little longer, he kept blubbering. Then when we said we absolutely had to go, he actually wanted to lie on the bier beside her and ride in the hearse. . Luckily, an elderly neighbour of his intervened, and yelled at him, “Stop this nonsense, Percy. Get a hold of yourself. Mama is gone. She’s never coming back. . Get that into your head!” Only after a severe dressing-down, which continued for a few minutes, the son seemed to return to reality. Then the neighbour joined his hands and said to us, “You gentlemen, please leave. .”’

‘Well, I’ll tell you another story,’ said Khushro, unexpectedly, after a pause in the conversation. Relatively young and new to our company, Khushro had been shyly sipping his glass in a corner, not saying much. His story actually made us all relax and laugh, everyone, including Fali. Just the previous day, he told us, Khushro had been with Fardoonji and Farokh to Dhobhi Talao, to pick up what turned out to be a very obese dead woman.

‘Fardoonji, as you know, is an old man, without much strength left in his body,’ said Khushro. ‘When we saw her size, we were definitely alarmed. Even assuming we could lift her up, would she fit on the bier? We gazed at her and scratched our heads. . No, I’m not exaggerating. She was huge, this woman, a giant. You were telling us, Bomi, of this boy who wanted to lie down on the bier next to his mother. This one looked like even on her own she wouldn’t fit; she would need two biers tied together side by side! “What shall we do now?” Farokh whispered to me. First thing we did, of course, was to call Jungoo out from where he was hiding in the driver’s cabin.’