Smoke! Like the exhaust fumes
were not enough, now there was smoke from burning wood in the middle of the
road. Wait a minute, there was no fire on the road, sure the private bus depots
close by set tires on fire sometimes, but this is wood smoke. That’s when I saw
an aluminum chimney coughing thick black smoke. Don’t they have norms? Polluting
the environment in broad day light and that too with such a short chimney? Isn’t
anyone bothered? Or maybe they bribed the authorities to have a polluting factory
in the heart of the city? Well to relieve me, it wasn’t a factory. It was the Shantinagar
crematorium. 
I had noticed the crematorium
many times, spotted many ambulances or black vans used carry the deceased parked
in the compound, hundreds of people, lots of flowers, chanting, drums and
anything that’s generally found in the crematorium. It always looked like a
celebration. Many people have the belief that we must send the dead with happy
faces. Even though its practically impossible to be happy at our loved ones
death, there is a festive mood, maybe not from the close ones, but hired
professional... yeah professional dancers, drummers and singers who make the
last ride joyous for the departed soul.
I was just thinking about all
these when I thought about the undertaker, would he have a family? How does he
get food and clothing? Does he wear cloths picked up off the dead bodies? Are the
fruits that he gets to his children left behind by the family of the dead? Does
he get flowers to his wife that were used to honor the dead? How can he have a
wife? Who would want to marry an undertaker? Does he have kids? Would his boy
grow up to be an entrepreneur? No, he’s just next in line to become the
undertaker.
No wonder the undertaker never
dies, Or maybe he was never alive.
