Ramjibhai was an elderly gentleman who used to hang around our town's crematorium, all round the year. He used to stand as the guardian at the gates, but was not aware of the further transit of the soul of the dead body, hell or heaven, he never bothered or cared.
His only job was to help the kith and kin of the deceased in conducting the cremation ceremony. He was laid back in his life but the sight of the funeral party used to propel his ageing feet to action. As the dead body entered the gates, he would take over. The garlands would be carefully removed, the ghee in the plastic bag smeared over the body and then a careful placement of the body on the pyre. He would comfort the heir before torching the pyre. As the flames leapt up, the relatives would shy away from the pyre but Ramjibhai would stay there arranging the burning body parts with a long bamboo stick to ensure a proper and an even burning of the flesh, leaving only the bones around in the end.
As the heated skull broke open, you could hear a crackling noise of the liquified brain oozing out with a gush. That would be the end point of the funeral for the relatives who would rapidly walk out of the crematorium trying to catch up their lost time. Ramjibhai would stay there till the ashes. He would lovingly wrap the ashes in a red cloth and hand it over to the relatives, the next day to be immersed in the holy waters. A bag of grains and some cash used to be his meagre earnings.
Ramjibhai always had ash in his greyish white hair, it used to gel well with his hair colour and on closer inspection only, be visible. But you could never miss his constantly lacrimating, angry red eyes which bore the brunt of the heat of the pyres. He would await, patiently with a small beedi in his mouth for the arrival of the next funeral, Then, the entire cycle would go on. He would sleep there only, all alone with the souls, in case of any nocturnal death-services.
I met him once and asked him the reason for such a unique service, that too without any substantial wages or comfort, so very much desired, by the people of his age. He told me that he had decided to offer this service voluntarily and in fact, was attuned to it. He could not bear to work for the living population of our town, who may have not been good to him in the past. He preferred working for the dead. He denied having any family of his own.
He stayed there in the scary confines, as he had nowhere else to go.
As he neared his end days, he made a decision to visit the city of holy waters. He bowed to the almighty before taking the plunge to his eventual death. He wanted to die in the watery grave.
His body could not take the heat, any longer.
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