Yama’s Dilemma- a D for a Dash of Humour (500 words)

Yama found himself in a bit of a pickle. Two sets of desperate prayers reached His divine hotline simultaneously, and both were flagged as “Urgent.” He could’ve handled both—after all, He’s Death God—but, like any multitasker who’s had enough, He decided to deal with just one for now. Who dares question Him, right?

On the one hand, a weeping mother stood outside the surgery room, praying her heart out for her only son’s life. He was a good lad—pious, virtuous, a guy who probably never skipped his prayers. The doctors, however, had already thrown in the towel and moved to Plan Z doing some surgery to salve their conscience.

On the other hand, there was a mob—a whole playground full of people—praying as if their lives depended on it, for the life of their beloved Neta. This middle-level functionary was attacked dastardly and critically by some rivals. These supplicants were his die-hard followers.  Though popular and generous to his supporters, he was known more for his shady backroom deals and ruthlessness than any virtuous living.

 Normally, people are three kinds, believers, agnostics or non-believers depending on their mental dispositions. But this group of followers were staunch non-believers, questioning even God’s existence, let alone Yama. on every occasion, but today, they were all about God, divinity, Yama and miracles for a cause!

Yama scratched His head for a moment. Should He answer the sobbing mom’s sincere plea and save her good-hearted son? Or give in to the ironic prayers of those who normally wouldn’t believe in Him unless He came with a freebie like Santa Claus? Looking at the tearful mother, He felt sad. But a smile crept across His face when He glanced at the vast crowd in great panic. “Oh, this is going to be interesting,” He thought.

Minutes later, the operating room’s doors were flung open, and the mother let out a heart-wrenching scream. Her son had passed away. Meanwhile, at the other hospital and the nearby playground, the air was rent with the noise of firecrackers bursting continuously, and the crowd dancing in sheer joy. The Neta had defied death in what the doctors called a “miraculous recovery”—though Yama probably deemed it as a much-needed move to restore faith among the people.

Watching all this unfold, Yama’s consort Dhumorna raised an eyebrow. “Why so partial?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Yama smirked and shrugged. “Oh, I’ve got this figured out. The good boy? Straight to Heaven—no more of that tiresome cycle of births and deaths. He’s done. Meanwhile, that Neta… I’m letting him live so he can stew in his own soup of lies and corruption. Plus, now I’ve got a whole horde of new believers! Call it efficiency or cunning.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. Yama—proved himself a political wizard. Who else could simultaneously save the soul of a young boy and win over an army of atheists by saving the life of their Neta with one clever, whopping move?