I died fifteen years ago as an honest lower divisional clerk in the secretariat. I had a huge family to look after and numerous responsibilities on my head. When I died it all ended – the struggle for day to day survival, the daily pilgrimage to the office, overtimes, good times spent with the family and of course the responsibilities. The gods told me that it takes at least 15 years for someone to be free of the shackles of worldly associations so they didn’t permit me to visit my family and office for fifteen long years. Yesterday, I came back to the earth, to India as a ghost. I was curious to see my family and it was certainly not out of love. Ghosts are supposed to be numb.
My elder son is a middle aged man now and he is not the usual jovial man that he used to be. Yesterday, he was complaining about the price rise and inflation. He didn’t mention corruption, my guess is that he got used to it. My younger son dreamed of being an IAS officer when I was alive. Now he works at a ‘Kirana’ store as a part time accountant. Although, I wouldn’t say he was exceptionally bright but he was certainly better than this. He was complaining about reservation and appeasement based politics this morning. My wife is the happiest. People say that she didn’t cry when I died. She went into a state of oblivion. She is oblivious to the surroundings around her. There is a constant smile on her face. Maybe she keeps remembering the happier times.
I went to my office too. Most of my colleagues have retired. One oldie told everyone that some Indian Jawans have been killed on the border and the Prime Minister hasn’t opened his mouth yet. I was wondering why they would want the Prime Minister to open his mouth when it’s time for the cannons and rifles to open their mouths. Then I realized that the current PM doesn’t speak a thing, and when he speaks, it becomes breaking news. Then they talked about Rape. Then they talked about the sinking standards of politics. They also talked about an IAS officer who was fired just like that. I smiled, because I thought maybe my son was better placed. I went out to the streets. I saw unrest. I saw angry faces.
I died fifteen years back. Maybe that was the best time to die. Otherwise I would have been one of these faces. Angry, frustrated and helpless. Why am I feeling sad? I am a ghost after all and ghosts are supposed to be numb.
