The Dance of Death – A Conversation

Slowly she confronted me. Now we both looked into each other’s eyes, wondering who should speak first. An eerie atmosphere.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“You have stayed here for a long time now, now it’s my chance.”
“But why? I’m not even twenty, why do you want to overthrow me so soon?”
“Because I hate you. You have done enough damage to people’s life, and yesterday night you yourself prayed that I should come, so I came. Now do not waste my time.”
“But that was only random. When I called you, I actually didn’t mean to call you, I mean, yes, I did call you, but I did not expect you to listen and come to me.”
“Hardly matters.”

Here I was, arguing with death. Apparently yesterday I was so pissed off with the random insane things happening to me that I just happened to say, “Had I died right now!” And now, she was in front of me. I was experiencing the dance of death in front of me. She was determined, I figured out, to take me along with her. But as a matter of fact, I had only made a bleak statement. I did not mean to keep up to that, who would want to die randomly? But she seemed to be more stubborn than I had expected.

“Listen, I have lots of work to do, and lots of people to take along with me. I am not jobless like you. So go and bid goodbye to everyone and come along with me,” she said.
“I won’t. Do what you can”. I realized almost instantaneously I shouldn’t have said that.
“Oh you won’t? I see. So first you call me. I leave all my other work only to come to you, and to please you, and then you say you don’t need me. Who do you think you are? Who do you think gave the power to you to urge to die and then in a flash urge not to?”
“Umm.. I don’t know. But I am not going to die so soon.”
“You do not decide that young boy.”

The first thing that came to my mind now was to shout for mother. May be she would sort this out. “Mother!”, I shouted. Pause. Silence. Footsteps. Mom. “Mother!”, I cried delighted.

“What happened now?” Mom always speaks as if I am still small to break the glasses and then call her to show them.
“Tell her to go away.”
“Who?”
“She.”
“Who?”
“She.”
“Who she?”
“Death.”
“What! Who died? What death? Where?”
“Mom, death is standing in front of you and she wants to take me away with her. Ask her to go away. I do not want to go with her.”
Silence. An uproar of laughter.
“Okay I will. Miss Death, please do not frighten my son anymore. Please go away. My son will never ask for death from today.”
In a flash, she disappeared. I was delighted. Mothers are always so awesome. 😀

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