“You sure you’re prepared to go?”
The question made Rishi smirk. Maybe even
gods were confounded by what went inside a
human mind. “Yes, I am.”
“You must realize there’s no coming back.
It’s not like on a whim you beckon death,
and when you begin to confront the truth you
want your way back.”
Rishi looked at the imposing figure of Yama,
the God of Death. The deity’s large,
muscular arms didn’t carry the legendary
mace and the looped rope with which he was
supposed to pull the soul from the corpses
of those he came to execute. Contrary to
mythological beliefs that he arrived astride
a Water Buffalo, his Divine Carrier, he
stood on bare feet.
“I decided to invoke you after reasonable
thought,” Rishi said. “And while meditating
for your presence, my mind was fully focused
on my need to die.”
“What makes you think you’re ready yet?”
“I have everything in life. Enjoyed all that
a man has to. I’ve no more wishes to
fulfill, no goals to chase.” Rishi ran a
hand along his broad forehead, smoothing
back errant strands of curly locks that had
fallen on his thick eyebrows. “A life
without wants is no life at all.”
Yama’s blackish-green skin glowed from the
brightness of raging flames in a sacrificial
pit between them where sandalwood, herbs and
ghee burned. The God took in a deep breath
as if pleased by the aroma that hung in the
air. “That doesn’t sound like a good enough
reason. A man might still want to explore
fresher meadows. That’s human nature.”
“But I haven’t left out anything – anything
at all.” Rishi brought his palms together in
ardent supplication, and his bulging biceps
swelled against the soft material of his
half-sleeved Polo Shirt.
Yama’s large, blood-shot eyes drilled into
Rishi’s. “There are an infinite number of
things out there to know and enjoy. An
ephemeral human life is just not enough to
do that.”
“I’ve had my fill of all sorts of food.
Tasted each brand of wine.” Rishi’s eyes
darted away from the God and his chin almost
touched his chest as he stooped. “Slept with
every type of women.”
“Any food cooked by a different hand has a
distinct taste. Every other day someone
brews a new wine.” Yama walked around the
sacrificial pit, came nearer to Rishi, and
raised his chin with a finger.
Rishi stared at Yama’s face.
“Every new girl has something unique to
offer,” Yama said. “Don’t tell me you aren’t
interested in exploring.”
“I am fed up.” Rishi knelt and touched the
God’s feet with both palms. “I’ve had enough
of all the things out there. I beg you take
me with you.”
Inside, the air filled with a mixture of
scents as sandalwood and the herbs burned
more vigorously in the sacrificial pit.
Outside, the rain drummed against the glass
panes of the closed windows. Muted sounds of
croaking frogs played a synchronous melody
with the beats.
“You see? You could always go out into the
rain, try something different,” Yama said.
“Nature offers a variety of sights, sounds,
fragrances and tastes. Find new things…
savour them.”
“Nothing is different when you already had
your fill.” Rishi raised his head and gazed
at the God. “Is there anything worse than a
life one doesn’t want to live?”
“Of course not.” Yama smiled. “But one must
have adequate reasons for feeling so. And
one must be truthful about his conviction.”
“I’m convinced. That’s why I invoked your
presence.”
“I’ll know when you lie.” Yama held Rishi by
his shoulders, lifting him up to a standing
position, and looked into his eyes. “And
I’ll know when you speak the truth.”
Rishi saw kindness in Yama’s eyes. The God’s
appearance and actions contradicted his
notions about Him. “Lord, I should’ve known
you’d see through.”
“That’s fine. Don’t worry.” Yama patted
Rishi’s cheeks. “Simple human follies are
matters of routine.”
“The truth is,” Rishi’s voice cracked as he
spoke. “Death haunts me. Whatever I do, it
stares right into my eyes. I see it in my
soup bowl, in the crystal glass I pour
whiskey.”
“Death is inevitable. Unique to each,
universal to all.”
“Its cruel eyes bore into mine, even while
I’m atop a girl. Tell me how can I enjoy
life when each living moment death stalks
me? So, in order to escape death, I found no
other way than embracing it.”
“One shouldn’t dwell too much on the simpler
facts of life. Death is just that. A simple
fact; simpler than love or hate. It doesn’t
carry the burden of prejudice. Learn to know
it, and you’ll perhaps start loving it.”
“I do love it, don’t I? Otherwise why did I
seek you?”
“Your quest comes from dread, not affection.
You failed to understand that death, like
love, needs time to blossom to full
maturity.”
“Is that why I get to see you in an
contra-traditional manner?”
“Do you get to know Death, now?” Yama asked,
combing through long strands of his curly
hair cascading down his shoulders.
“That’s why you came unprepared, sans the
loop?”
“I come prepared only when one’s time is
up.” Yama reverted to His position on the
other side of the sacrificial pit.
“What about those who commit suicide?”
“One’s fate rather than my decision makes me
take a life. You were about to do something
akin to that, weren’t you?” Yama asked.
Rishi nodded.
“Do you still want to come with me?”
Rishi shook his head. “I’d like to explore
greener pastures.”
© 2006
Author Bio: After obtaining
voluntary retirement from an elite commando
outfit under the government of India,
Hareendran Kallinkeel presently works for an
online portal, helping college students from
the US with their writing projects, and
resides in his hometown, Taliparamba (Kerala),
with his family consisting of wife, two
children, a maid and a German Shepherd. He
owns a farm of rubber, coconut, pepper and
areca nut plantations, where he also keeps
his cows and chickens.
He is published in Sulekha (several issues),
Cyberman Books, Literary
Potpourri, Poet's Canvas, Cenotaph Pocket
Edition, Gator Springs
Gazette, Muse Apprentice Guild, Blood Lust
UK, Penumbric Speculative Fiction Magazine,
Whispers of Wickedness, Chick Flick E-zine,
Slow Trains, Skive Magazine, Heavy Glow
Journal of Flash Fiction (online) and Peeks
& Valleys, Thought Magazine, Literary
Potpourri Anthologies (print). His stories
are forthcoming in Golan Publications,
Twisted Cat Tales Anthology, Ghoti Magazine,
The Means, Ever Green Review, Bewildering
Stories, Cautionary Tale and Tales of the
Talisman.
His story, 'A Few Ugly Humans' has been
nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2005.
This may be the most impressive bio we have
ever published in linear time.
He can be reached via email @
hareendran.kallinkeel@gmail.com
