Autobiography of a Dead Body

I saw the soul departing, creating havoc in a second, and leaving behind just a piece of flesh to be devoured by mercenary world, and took away all meaning with it. I was lying on the floor decorated with flowers, but nothing better than the table and chair that surrounded me or the electrocuting furnace that would involuntarily consume me inch by inch.

Tick, Tock! Tick, Tock! The clock is ticking away and it is the only sound falling on my otherwise deaf ears. Once I had great hearing capacity, which is now impaired on the death bed. Ticking off the clock reminds me of the lapsed time, and infuses a sense of urgency in my immobile body to depart to a path unknown.

Motionless, my lifeless body lay on the bed, heaving at intervals with last gulp of air scarcely entering my lungs, only to play hide and seek. Eyes glued to the roof, reflected the dark world of unknown – sans life – where my soul prepared to depart. As the last living cells of my body eased, the mind raced. It tried to recollect the evergreen memories of transient life – building blocks of mundane life that adds colour, whether black and white, and vitality to every passing moment.

Seconds passed like ages while my long tumultuously serene life danced in front of my lustreless eyes – an agonizing reminder of the mockery made of life. I heaved, yet slowly, till the heaving stopped with a jerk, as though I was ashamed of fooling; took recourse in a world unknown to start afresh with renewed energy and vigour, this time with a meaning.

As the soul leaped into nothingness, I awaited to be discarded. With impatient patience I watched the onlookers shedding tears, talking, laughing and bestowing me with sporadic attention. Patience struggled as lifelessly as the soulless body. An immobile object, lying in the centre surrounded by chattering human beings, I itched in pain. Tears, glorifying talks, ornate preparation, suffocated me. Beautification and glorification have no meaning; they are tools of the social system. I found solace only on being cremated – something as stable as death.

I reached the crematory, passing through the hustle and bustle of the street. Few days back, I was also a part of this rat race, acting insanely sane running after worldly gains and ultimately gaining nothing. I smiled at the folly of the scurrying rats and wished them wisdom. I felt peaceful on reaching the crematory. Finally, my ageing body will be decomposed. Pain, suffering, and agony will melt like ice, leaving behind no trail of my existence, thus washing away my misdeeds too. This is the only reality of human life. Soon, I will be forgotten only to be remembered in stories.

It’s time to be put into the furnace. Purity of fire will cleanse me. The repelling heat beckons me. Yet, I am waiting to be carried there. My life had been a long wait and am still waiting. This wait is over-whelming. On being put into it, I am on my own with only fire to accompany me. I allow my body to melt; at first slowly. My fingers melt first. The heat is engulfing. Within minutes it has devoured me to the core. Heart, liver, kidney, eyes, ears, lips, and nose dismantle. My body is charred as I close my eyes to ignorance.   

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