• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 07


when mr sharma from gomti nagar sensed death approaching, he couldn’t stop scrolling whatsapp. when jawahar lal from hasanganj was found to be dimming, he was moved from his bed to the parking lot. for the ex-pracharak, the ground was primed with ganga jal, cow dung, barley, and salt. beena ji from ghaziabad died in her sleep, so seasoned family members found an excuse to bypass her staff. chinese diyas were lit, on saptami, in sadar bazaar.

sometimes, there is doubt whether death has struck, as in the case of our chowkidaar. a lump of petroleum jelly was placed on his brow, and when it didn’t melt, it was a sign that he had passed on. the sweeper walked around him once, clockwise, then hauled him to the hajipur ghat. according to the vedas, the aryans used to bury their dead. “why the hindus have to burn now?” the questioner got transferred to kondagaon.

a yogi held that the deceased, had they known pranayama, wouldn’t have needed oxygen cans. twitter promptly wished him a rectal cramp.

mool singh from varanasi was only two, so he was allowed to expire in his mother’s arms. (iti devi wants to be reborn as a sewer rat.)

dilip kumar from prayagraj had broken caste. he was fished out of the ganges, in a ricebag, near papa john’s. the road map for his aatma was patchy beyond r./i./p./, so he latched on to a cow’s tail and jumped into the vaitarna.

the river to hell is filled with sorrow, marrow, pain, and pus.
as per the bhagavata purana, if the ruler of the day neglects his duty, he gets sucked into its hungry mouth. no amount of clean-the-ganga can wash away this fate.