The Metamorphosis

“Anguta report to station 2938.” blared the PA system.

Dumping the rest of his unfinished lunch into the dustbin at the canteen, Anguta rushed to the departure terminal. Accessing his account on the personal ID(Information Dispenser), he checked up his latest assignment:

Male, 09, India.

Time left for collection : 07 minutes 06 seconds.

Nine year old, thought Anguta sadly. He didn’t especially like it when his duty involved kids.

“Where to, Anguta?” asked Freiyd, passing him on the way. Freiyd had been a good friend and a mentor to Anguta ever since he enrolled into the job a little more than one twenty years ago.

“India, Freiyd.” shouted back Anguta as he broke into a jog.

“Make sure you get him on time.”

“That’s rule number zero.” Anguta shot back at Freiyd just as he turned a corner and disappeared from view.

The doors to the Deportation Room loomed in front of Anguta. Pushing the massive doors open, Anguta slipped into the massive brightly lit hall, lined on either side, for as long as the eye could see, with (twenty two thousand seven hundred and thirty three in all) doors.

Anguta had no trouble finding Door number 2938. It was a green one on the left side. Anguta placed his hand on the door knob and took a deep breath. Pulling it open he stepped into the familiar void of the transporter.

*

For the uninitiated, Anguta is a member of the elite Mors squad, super celestial beings entrusted with the collection of souls once their time on Earth expires. Highly technical in their approach, Mors have acquired technology to be very efficient in their duties. They have cloaking device to avoid detection by humans, and IDs, wearable device which, as the name suggests, dispenses necessary information. All of them are tech savvy, and rely on the same for the collection the souls at the right time. Any miscalculation and failure to collect at the right time the right souls leads to all sorts of ambiguities – zombies, ghosts, vampires, what-not. Not to mention severely humiliating punishment from the Chie Executive Officer (no pun intended), Yama.

*

Anguta opened his eyes. It was dark all around. He placed his hand in front of his eyes. Nope, he couldn’t see them. He turned on his night vision.

Anguta was standing in an open street. Shops, their paints peeling, lined either side of the rubbish–clad gutter-ridden road. And in front of one such shop, lay his package for the day.

As he had expected it was a small kid. Anguta went over and looked at him. The kid had his eyes shut, and , if he didn’t know better, Anguta would’ve thought the boy was sleeping. But he knew better. A fatal obstruction of phlegm was blocking the oxygen from reaching his brain.

Anguta checked his watch. It had already adjusted itself to the local time, 2 in the morning, and was also displaying the time left until the collection: three minutes twenty seven seconds.

“You come to take my boy?”

The ragged voice startled Anguta. He hadn’t noticed anyone else in the street. He looked in the direction of the sound and found the origin. The man was curled up in one corner of the shop, a haggard, bearded wiry man with a shock of wild hair. His eyes were darting around, never once focusing on Anguta, never once seeming to take in anything.

“My boy….boy….boy…”he was muttering.

Anguta was surprised he hadn’t noticed him before. He was even more surprised the man had seen him. It was pitch dark.

Wait. He wasn’t even supposed to be seen by a human.

Anguta froze on the spot, thinking that maybe he had heard the man wrong. He checked his cloaking device; it was functioning perfectly.

“You come for my boy?” for briefest of moments, the man’s eyes focused on Anguta, before passing on again.

A chill went up Anguta’s spine. Nowhere in his manual had he come across such a situation before. He didn’t know if he had done anything wrong, whether he had unwittingly broken any procedure. The very thought of Yama was enough to send him into tatters.

The man could see. Anguta didn’t know how, but somehow the man had penetrated his cloak. All his years of training kicked in as he decided to act like it was the most normal for a human to speak to an agent of Mors.

“Yes, sir; I’ve come to take your child back.” Anguta said, trying to be as polite as possible. He had never talked to a human before, and had never intended to do so either.

“You can’t.” the man simply stated. Getting up, he went over to where the boy was lying and lay down with him, holding him close.

Panic swept over Anguta. He checked his watch. Barely two and a half minutes remaining. He didn’t know if another human could interfere with his work, but he wasn’t prepared to take a chance. He tried to sound calm.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

“My boy….here now sleep….boy…sleep…” the man was muttering into the child’s ear, as if oblivious to Anguta, which ironically enough, he was supposed to be.

“Sir, sir.” Anguta made sure he had the man’s attention this time. Though he didn’t look up and make eye contact with Anguta, Anguta knew that he was listening, “Sir, your boy’s time in this world is almost over sir. You can’t hold onto him. He doesn’t belong to this world anymore.”

“Belong…belong…

my bo…he..boy..he belong…he belongs to me.” the man said, panting as if it were an effort to string his words together.

Anguta checked his watch. Two minutes. There was something wrong with the man, Anguta could sense that. He did a quick search, and it yielded a simple result: Autistic.

“Sir, listen to me, sir. Your boy can no longer be happy here. He will be lonely. He won’t have anyone to speak to, sir, anyone to play with. I will take him to a better place from here. There will be a lot of children there, he will be having fun, he will be happy.”

“Happy..uh..ha..hap…bet..better place. He…friends…but…I….fri…But I won’t be there.” The man somehow managed.

For the first time, in as long as he could remember, Anguta was at loss for words. He couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

For what seemed to Anguta to be an intolerably long time the man didn’t move, just hugging his boy. Finally, the man looked up and fixing Anguta with a firm look, he spoke, clarity ringing through it, “Can you promise?”

Anguta waited for a moment before answering, “Yes sir, I promise. Your boy shall be happy.”

The man leaned in close to his boy. As if trying for one last time to wake his boy, the man tapped him slightly on the cheek. He then kissed him. “Papa going now Krishna… papa going. Be happy, Uncle take you to better place, papa going. Be happy…happy.”

The man got up shakily, and without a second look, simply walked away. Anguta could hear him muttering, “happy…boy…happy…”

Anguta looked at the retreating outline of the man, and then into himself. Over the years, he had witnessed man torturing man in unimaginable ways, taking away the precious life for the most trivial reasons. All of it had hardened him. No longer did he think of them as men who had dreams, who did hope for a better life, who did breathe and live just as he did. To him, all of them had been reduced to just another mission and another package to be collected.

But not any longer.

This man, whom most would brand as being incapable of making one sane decision on his own, seemed to Anguta to be most sensible man on the planet. All his love and compassion, all his doubts and opinions, all his thoughts and action, all of it reflected the one quality that men seemed to want to forget, and fast ; that one trait that separated us from the animals, and made us what we are today, rulers of the planet; the ability to be human, humanity.

The ringing of his watch brought back Anguta. It was time. Swiftly placing two fingers to the boy’s forehead, Anguta pulled. Krishna came out easily enough.

As if waking up from a deep sleep, Krishna stood up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. He saw Anguta. “Did you see Papa?” he asked.

For the second time on that same cold dark morning in India, Anguta couldn’t think of anything to say.

__END__