Again!!!

“Uf, arrrrrrrrh....” He yawned and stretched, and then blinked, into the bright light, everything still a blurr. He pushed his legs out as far at they’d go, and then a little further from his waist and arched his back, pushing his shoulders down, in a complete body stretch ending with another cavernous yawn and his arms stretching upwards, ultimately his fists opening, his fingers stretching themselves upwards.

Then he opened his eyes. This was strange, he couldn’t recognise a thing. He sat up in a strange room with a lot of shiny metallic things and bright green numbers blinking from the walls. A bright light had been burning into his eyes, but it’d become more mellow when he got up. He couldn’t make out what the equipment was exactly, but he knew what it would do, or more precisely what it had already done to him... and he didn’t like it. ‘Not this again,’ he said to himself... ‘urgh!’ He grunted to himself.

Just to be sure, he  ran his arms up and down his torso, and up his neck to his face... it was there, all of him, down to the scar he had on his left jaw, they could at least have fixed that this time. ‘oh well,’ he wondered, ‘now what?’ there was always some reason for things being this way. After the 4^th or 5^th time, he’d gone bored of it all, the new-ness, the new magic or technology whatever the popular word was. He just wanted to relax man, was that too much to ask... ?

He turned his attention to the people around him. They were wearing white jackets, and strange tunics that went all the way down to their legs, some of them were carrying around similarly shiny trays and shiny tools that looked rather torturous to him. The room was clean, but not bright, in fact, it looked downright menacing, but at least they weren’t torched burning in the crevices, and nothing smelt really bad. He remembered this one time, when he’d found himself on the same table as carcass, dinner apparently, and he was covered in the left overs... he’d bathed for days to get rid of the smell. This wasn’t so bad. Or that guy with the lightening conductor... really, where did these come with their ideas from?

The faces of the men, were mostly looking straight at him, as though waiting to call a bluff. The others were just curious, and some were already intent on doing their work, confident that another one had been successfully pulled off. Today this was no big deal, but to the guy on the table, well, he’d have a lot to catch up on! Being able to do this was so cool... or had been, now it was just a job, though everyone now and then, things did get interesting.

The closest white jacketed guy came up to the man on the table, “Hello, Swami ji,” He said, “Welcome back to life... I am Dr. Chinnaswamy and this is my team, who have brought you back...” And now his straight business face broke down, he broke into an embarrassed smile, and his front teeth stuck out, “Also swamiji, we’re very big fans, and I’d just like to say, how much of an honour it is to you actually meet you alive...”

The Swami looked rather bored, as though, he was expecting something original, the man in the jacket shut up. Another man, who had till now been encased in one of the head to toe bag sort of suit thing, walked up, as someone handed him a white jacket, he slipped it on before joining the conversation.

“I’m Dr. Watson, I lead the team that did the operation, I don’t know why they’ve got you out here, but I sure hope you can fix it...”

Again the swamy was non-plussed, it was only later when a man walked into the swamy’s room at the hospital that he stopped looking nonplussed. This young man was dressed rather conventionally, in a pair of black trousers and light shirt. He carried a tweed across his arm. “Good Afternoon,” He said, to the swamy’s back... “I’m Joe Green, I’m with the resurrection office... I believe you were resurrected approximately 7 hours ago in this same facility. Also you were known as Swami Agnikendra in your last life, and according to our records this is the first time you’ve been resurrected, since you died at a relatively early age, we’re resurrected you in your original organic body, though, it is within our ability to craft you a brand new body, with specifications you decide, including, height, and musculature. Also within your rights is a catch up period of upto 2 years during which the state will pay your upkeep, while you ‘catch up’ with our time, and learn to be a productive member of society. Normally, this gap is filled by state sponsored courses, but in your case sir, the material will be highly specialised dealing with the case we’ve got you back to solve.”

The Swamy was still non-plussed... but Green took it in his stride and continued with his formalities, “And I feel quite confident in saying, that you’ll be able to deal with the problem quite well, in fact, sir, we did a survey of all dead semi-legendary and historical figures, and you’re profile was the best suited for the job, must feel a little weird, doesn’t it sir, to be called back into active service, after, what has it been now, 3000 years, 3500? The year is 3008 sir, I don’t think anyone has told you, and you’re in the North West region of what used to be the Sapta Sindhu region in your time, and later became part of the British Empire, Then it became Pakistan, a splinter nation of what used to be Bharat, but the nations have been re-united into the South Asian prosperity zone... and is co-administered by the world government and the Muslim Board of Control. It’s doing pretty well, by the way, highest Wheat production per hectare in the world, and with a little luck, we’ll be outdoing those Tundra plantations in Siberia too, pretty soon... But, I’m digressing, I’m sorry... Sir, I just need a few more minutes of your time, and then, I’ll leave to rest, Tomorrow morning you’ll be briefed about the operation.”

“In fact sir, there is just one more thing, that I need from you,” Green now approached the swamy’s bed, rifling through his sheaf of papers. His mind only half absorbed in what he was looking for, causually moving the papers around, because he knew what he was going to find. He came to it, and he pulled it out from the sheaf. “Here we are sir,” he said, placing the paper on a bedside table. He placed an ink pad and a pen next to them. “I’m sorry sir, but we didn’t know, if they’d invented writing back in your time sir, but we have paper,” He indicated the paper, “and ink,” he indicated the ink, “and we use them to write, and no agreement is considered final, till it is on paper...”

Of course the swamy was completely non-plussed still, he’d made a career of it, after all in an earlier life... he wasn’t excited by the piece of white paper lying on his  bedside table, he knew what it was only too well... Well okay no, he didn’t know what was written on it, he couldn’t read, but it was very clear that it was paper, and therefore something serious, he assumed. “God damn!” he said to himself.

This wasn’t the first time his life had been saved, at the cost of his death. Well no one knew what death was like, so he couldn’t blame them, but, it was still really irritating. The first time was kind of cool though, he’d been totally surprised, and had gone on a spree learning about stuff, and even re-invented stuff they’d forgotten about, the compass and all that, it’d been quite a laugh, watching grown men ogle at stuff that even as a kid the swami had found common. Well in their defence, the swami ogled at quite a few things too... Still that first time, had been interesting, but it had also made him realise one thing... having lived his life twice over, about 500 years apart... life was essentially the same...

“Anyway sir, this is just a statement, that you’re glad to be back amongst the living, and in return for resurrection are willing to do what the government has asked you to. I know it’s kind of ridiculous, I mean, of course and of course, right?” Green stressed the of course, and of course, equally, as though, any other reaction, but gratitude for life, and for purpose was absurd... The swamy was completely non-plussed, in fact, he was getting a little boring.

“So, yeah, if you’d just make your mark here, against your name at the bottom..... stupid conservatives... what happened was, the conservatives, were very worried that the right to death was a personal freedom, and that the government was infringing on people’s rights by bringing them back without asking them... of course, there is no way to ask them before you resurrect them, but whatever, finally a compromise was worked out, after resurrection, if people didn’t like it, within 24 hours, they could elect to be de-surrected...” Green was preparing to laugh, when he noticed the Swamy’s face, he was not, non-plussed.  Green’s giggle died in his throat, as waited for the swamy’s first words...

“So...” His voice was raspy, and the words came out difficult, without a lot of air. “Ahem.... ach... hmmm... so,” he started again, this time doing much better, “are you telling me, that this,” he indicated his body, and then the room, and finally spread his arms to indicate all of existence, “this is optional? As in don’t have to be here?”

“Well,” Green was a little puzzled, but he assumed that the swami was just clearing up something, “Yes, sir, well, it’s only optional as much as life is... but as i was saying, these damn conservatives, they made  big deal about things, so now you have to attest that you’re okay with being alive, and wouldn’t prefer being dead... quite absurd, I know, but what can I say?” he shrugged, a little to apologise for the conservatives, and a little to apologise for himself. It was pretty obvious the swami didn’t like something.

“So,” the swami continued, “you don’t ask before you bring someone back, but after huh? Hmm...” it was one of those profound moments, you know when you can feel the thunder about to crackle, just as the hero is going to challenge the villain to a duel to the death, or just before the hero with one last jab kills the monster, even though he himself is mortally wounded, or just before your mother opens your report card, and you’ve got a really bad score in maths... it was one of those moments... “Do you really ask for permission before? Or after? It would seem, that we measure time, primarily as the duration between coming to life, and coming to death... by making them revocable, changeable, you’ve changed the way we experience time. Because, yes, you didn’t ask me before you brought me to life... but you asked me before I died, and if I don’t like life, you can kill me again, and if I later decide I like life, you can resurrect me, and ask, and depending on my answer keep me alive, or dead... hmmm... “

Green wasn’t exactly impressed by this kind of logic... but his job wasn’t to get impressed, his job was to get signatures... he offered the swami the ink pad again, “... Now if you’d just press your thumb onto the ink pad, and then onto the paper, we’ll be all done.” The swami was still chuckling to himself, and didn’t realise he’d just given consent to his resurrection... “oh well damn!” he thought, “if it’s done, it’s done.”

Green left very quickly, quite happy with the job he’d done. 9 out of 10 successful resurrections, he was on fire, that Christmas promotion was his this year. “Who was that weird ass swami though?” He wondered, “ah who cares,” he answered.

Later that night the nurse on duty on the swami’s floor was disturbed from her bed by a loud laugh, warm and rich and melodious and completely at peace with itself.. the swami had evidently found a joke. This was followed by a few thuds, and then the loud crash of glass breaking.

This alarmed the nurse, and he pulled out his spare bunch of keys and ran up the corridor to the swami’s door. When he entered it, he found the window shattered, glass shards lying around everywhere... but what really struck him was on the window pane, next to the broken one, the swami had written a question... When did this happen? After or before my death/birth? and underneath that was a large oversized smiley face...

Incedently the fact that the message was written, and the evidence of a smiley face are often cited as counter fact to prove that the swami couldn’t have written it. ‘He didn’t know how to write, and he never could have figured out emoticoms. So he did commit suicide, but no he didn’t write any last words, he couldn’t have.’

When the swami got home that night, his wife was understandably upset, “I told you to come home early 

today na? I wanted to go shopping, you know they only have sales on Wednesday...”

“I’m sorry, he replied, but you know how those kids are... they just don’t get it...”

“Yeah, I know, but what I don’t get is why, you’re more interested in what they get, then me?”