Believe it or not….it happened to Mukul (926 words)

This incident happened in the mid-1980s !!!

Mukul spent all his evenings in what one might consider an unusual place. It was a large open space that could hardly be called a park, though it was well lit and had plenty of flowering plants and small trees. The ground was covered with green grass, with neatly laid pathways and convenient concrete benches on which one could comfortably recline.it was in Kalighat.

Most people came there for a purpose, and very few came simply to idle away their time despite the pleasant surroundings. The architecture of the few buildings might initially suggest a temple, but they actually housed a crematorium. The municipal corporation had transformed what was once a dingy, dark and dirty place into a surprisingly beautiful one. The smell of burning bodies, though it assailed his nose, did not deter Mukul from visiting the place.

It was not that Mukul was given to melancholy or a negative mindset. The place was close to his house and offered a convenient escape from the constant wrath of his father.

It was not his fault that no one had offered him a job. His old father berated him daily and even suggested that he take up manual labour if necessary to earn a few rupees. But his kindly mother would intervene and insist that her son would work only in an office.

A graduate, Mukul had no particular skill except playing carrom. Unemployed young men like him played at the street corner in the evenings under a light whose electricity was stolen from the main box. Mukul was popular among them, but even he had to leave when he could no longer afford his share of the tea and samosas whenever his turn came.

It was past dusk one evening. There were not many people around. One group had just completed the cremation rituals and was preparing to leave. At the gate, another group was entering. There were many men and women, all in tears.

Mukul sat in a bench in a far corner, idly watching the movement of the people and the body being carried on the shoulders of a few young men.

It was then that he noticed a tall, dark figure draped in a black shawl approaching him.

Mukul sat up with a start.

The figure spoke in a soft but gruff voice.

“Do not fear. I need an instant favour from you. Please do not refuse. A life depends on it.”

Mukul was not afraid.

“Tell me,” he said.

“It is like this. There has been a goof-up by my assistants. The man whose body has just been brought in is not destined to die now. His time is much later. It was a case of mistaken identity—a big blunder by my men.”

Before he could finish, Mukul interrupted him.

“Who are you? You are talking as if you are Yama Dharma Raja! Why are you playing such pranks when people are already grieving? Please go away. I have no time for you.”

“No. Just look at me for a second,” the figure said.

Mukul looked, and froze.

The stranger was sitting astride a dark buffalo. He had a large moustache, protruding bulbous eyes and a rope in his hand.

Involuntarily, Mukul stood up and prostrated himself with folded hands.

“Young man, get up,” said Yama. “I am infusing life into that body. Please rush to the people there and tell them he is alive and must not be burned. They may not believe you. They may even beat you. But please persist. Ask them to have him examined by a doctor if necessary.”

“I will, Sir,” Mukul said. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “What will you give me for this favour?”

Yama smiled.

“I know your need. You may apply to the Municipal Corporation for an assistant’s job in this crematorium. It will be done.”

And with that, he vanished.

As the relatives were getting ready to consign the body to the flames after completing the rituals, Mukul rushed towards them, shouting:

“Hold on! Do not burn him. He is not dead. He is alive!”

They were all baffled. They looked at him in disbelief, as though he had lost his mind.

A couple of young men caught hold of him and rained blows on him. But Mukul continued shouting:

“You can beat me as much as you like. But please do not burn him. Call a doctor and have him examined. I say this with reliable authority: he is not dead!”

An old man in the group shouted at the young men, “Stop it! Go and fetch a doctor nearby. I want instant action.”

He then turned to Mukul and asked softly, “You know we are all in great grief at the loss of my young son. What made you say this? Be frank.”

Mukul narrated what had happened and described the strange vision he had seen before it disappeared. He said he could not ignore it because a human life was possibly at stake.

A doctor examined the body and detected a faint heartbeat and a weak pulse.

Things happened swiftly. The young man was rushed to a hospital.

Mukul was rewarded with ₹10,000 by the grateful family. His father turned very happy, and his mother cooked a special fish delicacy for him.

And, needless to say, Mukul got the job too.

He now oversees the crematorium as an office assistant, sitting comfortably under a fan at his own table and chair—exactly as his mother had always wanted.