What the f!

I carried five bodies to the crematorium today. Something most people probably don't do on any given Tuesday morning. One of the men was my friend. I bathed him yesterday.

When I first arrived at Kalighat, four weeks ago he seemed well and healthy. He like me. We had conversations. He slowly get more sick. His body seemed to get harder and tighter. A reverse sponge effect. Hardening and loosing moisture. He would not eat yesterday. He could not swallow. In my ignorance I did not realized this, I did not say by to him.

I came in the morning happier that usual. I went from bed to bed greeting my friends. I went to number 44, let's call him Bobby (it seems appropriate) His eyes were open and he rested in the curled position he always did. In my ignorance I waived my hands over his face to bring the goodmorning. "Hello, Hello, Hello, Namaste!" I usually get eye movement. "Brother, he's no more, gone, dead." "Dead?" "Dead." This was a blow to my spirit. I felt if everything had hit me all at once. Everything about Calcutta. All her beauty, he hate, love smells, sounds, sights, poverty, romance this all hit me and was laughing at me. "You fool, don't fall for me, I will steal your soul, hahaha!"I had to sit down. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to remeber our laughs.

"Brother..." I knew how was speaking to me, the undertaker. This is how he calls me. I know what it means. It means come to the cold room, then to the ambulance with "silent company" it means the Beautiful orange color illuminates their end, it means the curtains close.

We loaded the five bodies, Bobby included. I was not ready. I hadn't said goodbye. It was Bobby's body that we put in last. As his curtains went down I wanted to cry. Not out of saddness, but because he was my friends and that is what you do when you burn your friends as they go on, you cry, right?

He left this world in a way I will never forget, with his legs folded over his hips. I wanted to bring him back. But then I would be Jesus, not Joseph. Joseph dealt with Jesus' death, so I would follow in his footsteps and deal with it.

I had carried him to the showers the day before. I held his head as I washed. Blood came out of his penis, around the inersted tube for his urine bag. I winced in pain for him, he made no gesture. I scrubbed in happiness and sang "Iloveyouloveyouloveyou...frommyheart..." He was so light as I carried him back to the changgin area. I dresed him lik I did many times before, but this would be the last time. He wouldn't need it anymore, I'm crying now, for you, Bobby. I think I just realized what I do for work, I burn people.

I loved his smile. He had a cute face. A man you would picutre when somone says "A cute old man..." He had a sunken mouth with no teeth. His lips curled in where orthodontic work would have done so well. His skin was so smooth. His nose was this and useful. His eyes seemed much too young for the rest of his body, so playful and hopeful for tomorrow. His hair was my favorite! It wanted to slick back, but had a hard time doing so, so instead, it stuck straight up.

Bobby always enjoyed a good head massage, who doesn't? But I got satisfaction out of massaging his head, more than anyone else (maybe it's because I loved his hair so much!). He would close his eyes and try to smile. He was Beautiful. I would have been proud to have called him "Grandfather."

His last days he seemed to know. How did I not. He is gone now, nothing physical remains and all soul does. I know I will miss him tomorrow as I do now and will the day after tomorrow and whenever I think of Kalighat and Calcutta. Today was just another Tuesday for the world, a tuesday where I carried five bodies to the crematorium and one of them was Bobby. On Tuesday October twenty-first I burned my friend to make him now, no more, and forever eternal.