Behind the closed doors- 3

It’s the post-mortem room.
The room looked forlorn and desolate.
A thick stale organic smell of blood, feces and chemicals was hung in the air, making the ambience more depressing.
It was a huge hall with a large rectangular table in the centre. A very bright and big tube lite was hung over it. That had been the only source of light there.
The rest of the room was mostly filled with darkness and various shades of dimness with scattered shadows. One end of the room had a series of benches like in a stadium, arranged in a semi circular order around the table. They are for the medical students to learn over the dissection of the corpse.

Remotely, it’s like a roman coliseum. The only difference is the show starts here after the gladiator is dead.

To the other end was a computer and few scattered chairs.

The living clan doesn’t’ even let the dead to sleep in peace.

The table at the centre was the cynosure to the otherwise morbid ambience.
It looked sterile and scrubbed clean of all the guts and gore. The paint on it peeled and the rusted iron gleamed bleakly at the ends. To one end of the table, were a washbasin and a broken bucket, with water gleaming dimly in it, with occasional ripples from nowhere.

The keeper already reached the end of the hall and stood waiting. The man realized then that he was standing in the middle of the hall, peering around. He hastily walked to the end of the hall and suddenly stopped there.
The keeper was a li’l irritated by these frequent halts.

“vaanga saar..”

The man realized that the destination of this journey to the mortuary had finally reached the last phase and he can no longer delay the inevitable. But he knew, he wasn’t really ready or prepared to see what he has come for. He hesitated to look ahead.

“Vaanga saar…parunga..”

The man raised his head and looked ahead. He could see a blurred silhouette of a huge chest of four big drawers.
He is sleeping inside. He might be suffocated there..

Where’s all that fun shared? Who will talk with me over smoke ?

He was really excited about that girl whom we used to see everyday at the office pantry.. He was supposed to talk to her soon.

Probably he might. But she can’t listen to his sweet whispers no more.

There is no stopping to the barrage of thoughts. The whole mind was running around like a headless chicken.

“Unnoda frienda…ee payyae? “

“…yes..”

“Nothing to worry saar.. Ur friend is just sleeping. that’s all. Tell him hai..and we can leave…don’t worry..”

The big chest of drawers, made by bluestar, the same company which makes the air conditioners, probably, also makes corpse conditioners too. The man reckoned. He badly wanted something as silly as that to keep his mind off the sight so as not to recollect this piece of memory. He wanted nothing of these moments.

The keeper gripped onto the handle of the top right drawer and dragged it out.
And he closed his nose.
Involuntarily, the man too closed his nose. But just before that he let out a slight gasp.

That was the utmost emotional response that he could muster that moment.

All the emotional drudgery and strain was replaced by helplessness and pain. But fortunately, he couldn’t feel neither. He was in a trance, in an emotional indifference where nothing mattered and nothing hurted.
It was like being stashed by a sharp surgical knife. You can see the gushing blood but you can’t feel the pain. Yet.

Even a small ripple of emotion could have caused an avalanche in the serene pool of heart, then. He didn’t want any of that to happen.

All he wanted was a moment. Not a memory.

The tears were rolling all by themselves.
It’s really taking time for him to comprehend the sight. So, the co-ordination was slightly off the sync.

Right before the man’s eyes, laid the body of his friend, who is sleeping peacefully. He was totally wrapped up, embalmed.
Only the face was visible. The features were serene, belying the pain and torture he had to undergo before his death. The lips are parched off the blood, and looked more like bleached pink rubbers.
Behind those closed eyes, are those dreams and moments that the ‘body’ cherished and nourished till that very morning. Now all of them are going to scamper, blindfolded and suffocated, forever inside that cold head.

I hope you are listening to me. I hate you.

He was totally at peace. With peace into himself.
Probably he had figured out the divine secret, which man has been trying to crack since his inception. He is now onto the other side. He can look into himself. Rather He can look beyond himself.

The keeper pointed to an elevation onto the package over the tummy and said “..idu kayyi..hands, sir. They are arranged in front ..like that”

The man tore his eyes off the ‘body’ and looked onto the keeper. He had to really try hard to comprehend what the keeper was saying.

“Where is the funeral, saar ?”

“At his home. Native..”

How long will it take, to take it there?”

It? Now he is finally degraded to some mere ‘it’. Some organic parcel…

“10 hrs”

“appo..probleme kaediyaadu saar.” The keeper placed his hand on the cheek of the corpse to check the embalming.
“…Fresh..irrik... 10 days also no problem.”

The man kept looking at the body.

“Aayacha..saar? …polama… ? “

“1 minute..”

The man slowly stretched his hand to touch. He could notice the trembling fingers getting closer to the body.

He remembered waking up this guy from his notorious slumber, innumerable number of times, often at the risk of the latter’s famous ire. They used to scuffle about it later for a while thereafter. Often ending in a couple of fisticuffs and loud brawls of laughter.

The man suddenly pulled away his tight-till-white fist back and held it close to his heart. He hasn’t got enough heart to touch him. Not anymore. This will then haunt the man till his death.

The man closed his eyes for a moment, tiredly. But he opened them immediately, with a jolt. He just realized the mistake. Well, in another perspective, he realized something what he had just done.
Now, he knew that, his friend lying there smiling serenely, had silently crept into his psyche now and shall stir it like crazy.
Probably forever.
Some leaflet of sub-conscious mind had registered, what he had just seen. Now, he cannot unknow it.

He has to live with this tormenting moment forever.

The man signaled the keeper to close.
The keeper slowly closed the drawer back into its dark pit.
His pal is going. FOREVER.
His fate is sealed. Deep in the damp and dark blue star drawer.

*

The keeper finally locked the entrance of the morgue. Each lock at each door, starting from inside, kept sealing off any stray strain of pain and emotion left in the heart of the man. He now is feeling nothing. And that’s more tormenting than the grief.

His friend is lying alone inside all alone. And we’ve locked him up there for no one to fend him.

So long, pal.

“Saar.. konjem..tea..kaasu…”

The man smiled to himself. He is too tired and distant to understand the irony.

A wet crumpled 50-rupee note changed its destination and snuggled now in the keeper’s pocket. It very well knows that it has got very limited time to catch some sleep. Soon it’s going to cuddle with other notes in the wine shop cash box. It moaned happily , thinking about the orgy and snuggled further.

The man walked back into the drizzle.
Sometimes it’s good to walk in the rain. No one can notice you crying.


* * *