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I came to learn this when my mother died in Bombay. Till that time I was used to living in small towns. What did I know that the government had laws even for the dead?

My mother’s corpse was in one room. I was sitting distraught on a sofa in the one next to it. A friend, who had been in Bombay for a while now, said to me: ‘Look, now you people have to get working on arranging for her coffin and burial.’

I said: ‘Could you please take care of it? I’m new here.’

He replied: ‘I will, but first you have to send word that your mother is dead.’

‘To whom?’ I asked.

‘The municipal office in the neighbourhood,’ he said, ‘till they issue a death certificate, we won’t be permitted to bury her.’

The office was sent word. Soon a man arrived from there, and began asking questions. ‘Was she unwell? For how long? Who was treating her?’

The truth is that she had died of a heart attack in my presence. Obviously she wasn’t being treated by anyone because she hadn’t been unwell before. I gave the facts to the man from the municipal office. He wasn’t satisfied and said: ‘You’ll have to get a doctor’s certificate that shows us she died of a heart attack.’

I had no idea from where or how to get one and said a few words in anger to him in my frustration. My friend, the one who had been in Bombay for some time, now rose and took the man aside. He exchanged a few words with him, and then turned to me, saying to him: ‘He’s a moron. He doesn’t understand how things work here.’ He came over and took two rupees from my pocket and gave it to the man from the municipal office, who suddenly became friendly. He said: ‘Give me a few empty medicine bottles so that there’s proof of her illness. Also hand me any old prescriptions that you may have.’

I felt as if I were my mother’s killer and this fellow, who knew of my guilt, was helping out of pity for me, showing me the ways in which to hide the murder. I thought of shoving him out and throwing the empty bottles one by one on his retreating head. But, and thanks here to civilization and culture, I was silent and asked for some empty bottles to be brought and gave them to him.

For a two-rupee bribe, I had secured the municipality’s permission. Now the graveyard awaited. The first sight of it was a large metal door with a tiny room on one side, like the booking office of a cinema hall. A man peeked out from its window as my mother’s corpse was being led inside. He was about to say something when my friend handed him the certificate.

The manager was satisfied, the body hadn’t entered without a ticket. It was a pretty graveyard. There was a grove of trees at one end, in the shade of which many gravestones could be seen. There were rose bushes and chameli growing all around the area. On asking, we learnt that this was the highest class in the graveyard, where the rich buried their dead. To spend an eternity here, it costs 300 rupees. This sum bought you or your loved ones a good location and a well constructed grave. For it to be cared for, an additional six rupees had to be paid every year.

The graves other than the 300-rupee ones would be dug up every three or four years. Others would then be buried in that space. These graves neither had the shade of tree nor any fragrance of rose and chameli. Along with dirt, a special masala was added to these graves so that the flesh would decompose and the bones dissolved rapidly.

Because there were rows upon rows of them, these ordinary, unmarked graves had numbers identifying some of them. The number could be bought for four annas. This is also like it is in a cinema hall, where you pay for a numbered seat. Once the money was paid, a metal plate stamped with the number was assigned to the grave. This plate remained till the grave was emptied for its next occupant.

Numbering makes it all so easy. In your diary, you can set down all your details with numbers:

Shoe size: 5

Stocking size: 91/2

Insurance policy number: 225689

Mother’s grave number: 4817

Telephone number: 44457

And if the world really progresses, you’ll be allotted the number of your grave the moment you’re born.

Anyway, in the graveyard there was a beautiful little mosque. On the board outside was written: ‘Important Message’ and under it the following instructions.

‘If someone wants to bury their relative in a kutcha grave, they must dig it themselves. Nobody is available to do this.

Digging a large one will cost two rupees and four annas. Of this one rupee and four annas is for the gravedigger and one rupee for the rights of the graveyard. A small grave (for children) will cost one rupee and four annas of which twelve annas are for the gravedigger and eight annas for the graveyard. If this is not paid, the grave will be vacated. Nobody is permitted to stay on in the graveyard, whether man or woman. You may come with the bier and leave when it is done. If a body is brought in without ritual cleaning, the graveyard will take four annas for the washing (even if this is done by your person).

For bodies that are brought in the night, another two annas for lights will be charged. Please do not shout or scream or fight here. Those who do will be handed over to the police. If gravediggers are used for watering graves or the plants around them, they are to be paid another four annas. Those who do not pay this will not have their graves or plants watered.

Management Trustee.

This has a point of similarity with the notices in cinema halls. Even there it’s written: ‘Those who come drunk or make trouble will be handed over to the police.’

It’s quite possible that as we progress, there will be additions to the notice in the graveyard. Such as: ‘In case of a natural disaster or aerial bombing, management will not refund the money for those graves that may be destroyed. For building an air-raid shelter over your grave, the price is two hundred and fifty rupees. But even here, note that the responsibility for the grave’s safety does not lie with the management. To keep graves air-conditioned, small cooling plants are available. The bill must be settled for this month etc.’

Another board was put up in the graveyard where the rates for ritual cleaning were advertised:

For funeral prayer and Quran reading: six annas

Cleaning an adult: One rupee and two annas

Cleaning a child: fourteen annas

Wood for heating water: four annas

Labour for heating and filling water: two annas

Barga* for adults: two-and-a-half annas

Barga for children: one-and-three-fourth annas

I found this board to be like those in good saloons. Perhaps there could be one in the graveyard for the grooming of corpses as well. Something like:

Haircut (Boys): four annas

Haircut (Women): one rupee

Haircut (Girls): eight annas

Shave: two annas

Haircut and shave: nine annas

Shampoo: two annas

Haircut, shave and shampoo: ten annas.

If one gets a haircut, shampoo and shave, a couple of annas may be saved. Perhaps the graveyards will also give such discounts to their customers. In a notice such as: ‘Those who pay for two large graves in a year, a child’s grave will be free.’ Or: ‘Those who have two graves dug at the same time will get two rose bushes free.’

Or: ‘Those who buy the gravestones etc from our store will get one beautiful metal number free.’

I wonder when we progress even further, if an advance booking of graves will be possible? We can select a spot in some fashionable place a few years before our loved ones are likely to go so that we don’t have to face last-minute disappointments.

And the manner of burial will also be the latest, I suppose. It will in fact even be advertised.‘Isaji Moosaji & Sons — Experts in laying you to rest. We are specialists in ritual cleaning and clothing without any contact with human hands.’