THE AFTERNOON WHEN I DIED

 

            I have always been fascinated by the idea of coming back from the dead and secretly see how the world is missing me or otherwise. Recently, I read a John Grisham novel in which the protagonist feigns his own death in an automobile accident. He secretly watches his funeral from a safe distance. He even visits his wife and comes to know that she had been cheating on him throughout his married life. Ever since I read this novel, I nurtured the secret desire to fake my own death and quietly observe how my near and dear ones react to it. My wish was fulfilled to some extant on a humid afternoon last week.

It was a relaxed Sunday afternoon. I had a sumptuous lunch with my family, which presently consist of my wife and son as our daughter lives in New York. We chatted light-heartedly about the prospects of our son’s marriage. Even our pet spaniel, Dash, looked pleased seeing us all eating together in a congenial atmosphere. Not a usual sight at our household.

After lunch, I stretched myself on my recliner to enjoy my favourite siesta before my evening bridge appointment. I fell asleep instantly and died soon after.

But somehow, though dead, I could see and hear people and observe their reactions. My wife went completely haywire on finding me dead, “Oh mere Bhagwan! My house is completely in a mess and people shall start pouring it on hearing about it. What a time to die - a Sunday of all the days!”  Then she shouted at her maid, “Barkha, you have not dusted the furniture this week. Now, be quick. Clean the house before people start coming.” She is known as a stickler for cleanliness and zealously guards her reputation.

I saw my son banging his fist on the wall when he heard the tragic news, “Oh, Papa’s actions have always been unpredictable and untimely. If he had chosen to leave us a month or so later, my marriage could happen. Now it will have to be postponed for at least a year!”

My bridge partner heard the information on his mobile and threw the pack of cards on the table, “Like always he has ditched us. Now where shall we find a fourth one at the last moment?” The other two stared at his face with great consternation and then at the scattered playing cards.

 My elder brother, a retired bureaucrat and meticulous administrator, took the news with his usual angry grin, “He had always been careless in his life. Now he dies without completing his nomination details in Bank accounts. He didn’t even write a will. The family will have to go through exasperating paper work!”

The next miracle was when I heard my pet spaniel, Dash, speaking in a perfect human voice. He was muttering under his breath, “They are all making foolish noises without caring to understand my problem. Now, after him, who will take me for a walk in the morning in this household of late risers?”

And I could even see my unmarried daughter living in far-off New York crying in anguish, “Papa, how can you go without seeing me settled in life?”

Yes, how can I? ---- I woke up with a start.

It was almost four in the evening and I was on the verge of being late for my evening bridge. Three impatient people would me waiting for me at the bridge table. Hurriedly, I started dressing. While tying the laces of my shoes, the realisation downed upon me that this world would not be much worse or poorer without me, though a few people will miss me howsoever temporarily that may be.