Karma

I pushed the stained-glass door open and stepped inside the plush air-conditioned room. It had been quite a while since I had last visited this place. Then it used to look different. I cast an appreciative look around the spacious octagonal room. Unerring taste combined with unlimited budget had totally transformed its character.

Yes, sometimes change was good.

In some ways it looked like a picture, the lone occupant of the room who sat on the high backed leather chair behind a glossy onyx colored table blended in perfectly with the decor. He was like everything else in the room, sleek, elegant ... refined.

I could feel his gray eyes follow me with a kind of bored resignation as I neared him. For a while we surveyed each other silently before a smile rose unbidden to my lips.

“Hello Father.”

I had always wondered how his eyes managed to smile with cynical amusement while his stern mouth remained perfectly grave.

“So it is you.” He sounded half amused and half bored. “I had a feeling you would come.”

I wasn't much surprised. He did have this uncanny and quite unpleasant habit of anticipating the things to come.

“I thought you did.” I settled myself in one of the chairs in front of him. “You intuitive system was always fine tuned.”

He laughed and it sounded just as I remembered it. Rich and warm like honey. “Thank you.” He twirled one of the heavy paperweights in his hands. “So how are you?”

I rolled my eyes. What a cliché conversational gambit. Didn't think that we had to resort to that right in the beginning.

“I am great.” I decided to play along, making myself comfortable as I crossed one leg over the other. “Death suits me.”

If that was aimed to rattle him then I would have been disappointed. Fortunately, I had no such pretensions. I knew him too well; he had nerves of steel.

“So I see.” He smiled, calm as usual. “Am I dead then?”

“No.” I hastily reassured him. “Between you and me, I am the one who is dead.” I paused for a moment. “You should know. After all, you are the one who killed me.” Try as I might I could not keep the steel edge out of my voice.

“You are mistaken my dear.” The smile on his lips was mirthless. “You drowned. It was a most unfortunate accident.”

“Che.” I rolled my eyes. “It was the an intricately planned act of brutality cleverly disguised as a tale of heart wrenching tragedy.”

“How very melodramatic. Is that what you think? But then, you always had that run away imagination.”

“My imagination can't hold a candle to yours Father. You planned and executed the perfect murder and nobody knows of it. Pity.”

“Perfect murders are meant to be unsung my dear.”

I stared. “Are you admitting...”

“Hardly. I am merely stating a fact.” He leaned back. “What is this place?”

I felt a stab of irritation but I allowed the subject to be changed. “You are at the crossroads between this life and the next.”

“Oh.” He cast a bored look around the room. “This looks like my office.”

“Would you prefer a field of flowers?”

“No thank you. I was never much inclined towards flowers.” He cast a curious glance in my direction. “So, what is your function here?”

“I am Death's messenger.”

His eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon.”

“Death is the employer. I… am the employee.”

“I see.” He understood that quite well. “How much do they pay you?”

“You see Father, the laws of the living do not apply to the dead.”

“I know that.” He said quietly. “Did you want this ... assignment?”

For a while I contemplated on the answer. “Yes. I did.” I said at last.

He started to laugh. There was something about his laugh, something sinister. When he stopped at last there was an ugly look in his eye.

“You want to see me die, don't you?”

“Why would I want that?” I was deliberately baiting him and he knew that.

“Like you said, I was the one who killed you.”

Now he admits it.

“It was an accident Father.” I could not resist answering him in his terms. “I drowned. It was a most unfortunate accident.”

He laughed. “Well said.” His voice was appreciative. Then his face became serious again. “Since we are dabbling with the truth you should know that I am not your father.”

“Che. I know that.”

“Then stop calling me Father.”

“I'll try. Its just that old habits die hard.” I chuckled. “And why should it bother you? I didn't think that you had that extra baggage called conscience.”

He did not answer, choosing instead to study the elaborate mural on the opposite wall. “Your mother. She was very beautiful. But sadly airhead.”

“You forgot extravagant, flighty, foolish.”

“Ah yes. She was all that.”

“Saddled with an ailing child of a failed and scandalous marriage.”

“You.” He gazed in my direction.

“Me.” I couldn’t iron out the trace of sarcasm in my voice.

“The Princess was defective but she was mistress of a land overflowing with milk and honey, besides being just the kind of woman who I could mould like a putty.”

“How very convenient.”

“Almost.”

I smiled. “Oh I forgot. There was me.”

“Yes.” He agreed. “There was you.”

“You know there was a time I thought that you were genuinely fond of me.”

“I was.” His lips curled back, there was something of a hyena about his smile. “But you see my dear, I never mix business with pleasure.”

“Very proper.” I agreed.

“So are you here for revenge?” He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you will have the satisfaction of seeing me die.”

“On the contrary, Father.” I countered him quietly. “I have come to ask you to live.”

For first time I saw him a little confused. “What?”

“Death doesn't want you in her realm yet. You still have more than fifteen years of lifespan left.”

“Fifteen years.” He repeated slowly. “Fifteen years of life. As what?” His eyes narrowed. “Fifteen years of life as a cripple!”

“Accidents happen Father. You'll bounce back.”

“Shut up.” He growled. “The doctors know that I am a hopeless case.” He stopped, a sudden cunning gleam creeping in his eyes. “So that's why you want me to live. You are a vicious bitch.”

“You don't understand ...”

“Oh, I understand very well. To live like that ... unable to move or talk ... an object of pity. It would be like dying a thousand deaths.” His eyes flashed. “You want that, don't you?”

“No.” I protested. “Listen ...”

“Stop.” He snapped, silencing me. “I cannot live as a prisoner in my own body for fifteen years. My lawyers have already arranged it. They will be taking off my life support.”

“I know.” I sighed.

He smiled, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “You should know my dear, I always win.”

For a while none of us spoke.

Then I realized it was time. The deed was done.

“It’s done. You are dead.” I

He looked amused. “I am dead? I don't feel any different.”

I remained quiet.

He looked at me. “Now that we are in the same boat, aren't you going to show me around.” He tried to get up. “What the hell?” He looked at me. “Why can't I move?”

“That's what I tried to tell you Father.” I pursed my lips. “Its physics. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.”

“What are you talking about?” For the first time I saw him loose his control.

“Karma, Father. You must bear the consequences of your action in this life ... or the next.”

His eyes widened. “Karma.” His eyes flashed. “ Is this my punishment? Is this your revenge?”

“It is not revenge Father. It is justice.”

“Hah!” He growled. “How long do you propose to keep me like this ? For fifteen years ?”

I did not answer. I rose ready to take my leave.

“Answer me damn it.” He yelled.

“That's why I wanted you to live .” I sighed. “You see Father, Time does not exist here. Only Eternity does.”

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