A date with death and a man called Bob

“Excuse me Sir,” this to the man who was visibly shaken. “Are you ok?”

Given what the man had witnessed, it was clearly a very stupid question. Normally, such questions deserve equally stupid answers. But fortunately, the man was too upset and shaken to notice.

“Terrible, Man! I just saw this man fall out of that building and plunge to his death! See his body over there lying in a pool of blood? Terrible Man, Terrible!”

So this man had witnessed the act of dying. Good! Having never witnessed it myself, maybe I could use his experience to understand this phenomenon. I might be able to find out if there were any visible signs of a happening at that precise moment of impact that can provide some insight into the mechanics of the transition between life and death.

I know that this incident was least conducive to such an observation. Slow death in a quite room is a more appropriate circumstance. But I had to make the most of what I had. Besides, I never loose an opportunity to discuss death, or the act of dying, and this was as good as it gets. In fact, the other day, I even had an interesting discussion about it with the beautiful girl in the office, though the intentions were entirely different.

You see, I was trying to break the ice. Ok, I agree it sounds like a stupid idea, but at that time it seemed like the most logical thing to do. After all, I fancied her a lot and had been trying to strike a meaningful conversation with her for three months so when the first after-office-hours-two-of-us-alone opportunity did present itself, I wasn't going to let it pass. Not being the kind of person who likes to waste his time with meaningless gibberish, I came straight to the point.

“What do you think of Death?”

“Why?”

“I was reading this interesting article on life after death, and wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

“Well, to begin with, it’s inevitable, isn’t it?”

Great! This was getting somewhere. Having established that she had an excellent understanding of the subject, I was tempted to persue this line of conversation further. But sanity prevailed as I decided that this wasn’t the time for intellectual masturbation. Instead, I needed to stick to a more conventional line of conversation that was both meaningful and mature.

Within no time I knew she liked listening to Robbie Williams, loved dancing and more importantly, was free on Friday. I also happened to be free on Friday, or would be once I told my mates that football was off. Fixing a time and venue to meet was the easy part.

Simple! The ice was broken. So talking to her about death wasn’t such a stupid idea after all. In fact, I am sure I would not have made as much progress had I come straight to the point and told her of my feelings and intentions up front.

“Listen, I fancy you a lot and was wondering if we could go out this Friday.”

“What?”

“Yes, a date, if you wish to call it that! In fact it would be great if we could go down to your place for the night! After all, I virtually strip you naked every time I see you, and it would be great to get to see the real thing.”

Without even going down that path, I know this line of conversation would have been a cocktail for disaster.

On the other hand, I could now have a similar conversation with her over dinner and get away with it, and a lot more.

The right wine, and a candle-light dinner make “I like you a lot. You are lovely” sound so romantic. And “Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee” is so less obvious. In fact, later in the bed, I could even tell her about the stripping naked thing. “I have wanted to make love to you ever since I saw you.” Just had to make sure to throw in the ‘It’s the way you make me feel’ bit immediately afterwards.

Men are bastards! Women just make it harder by pretending that they aren’t aware of it.

And truth prevails! But only if it backed up by a good timing and the right choice of words.

Anyway, we did go out on Friday, but never once discussed death or the non-existent article that I was reading. What followed after that was an interesting relationship, but I will pass that for now. Sorry to disappoint here, but we have more important matters to discuss right now.

So death isn’t all bad, especially if you can use it to your advantage. Come on, don’t think I am sick. I didn’t kill anybody, neither did I hurt anybody’s sentiments by referring to any person or body. Look around you. Doctors, Lawyers, Politicians, Media, Social workers, Terrorists, everyone is cashing in on death. It has become a booming industry. In fact, it is the only thing that is likely to survive a global recession.

And all I did was use it to satisfy the basic male instinct, of wanting to love and be loved.

Back to the visibly shaken man who, in case you have forgotten, had just witnessed the act of dying.

I knew I was going to ask him a delicate question, so I had to phrase it carefully. I was in no mood to get a visual description of what had happened. Don’t have a stomach for such things. At the same time, I hate meaningless conversation, and was not willing to have one now. In fact, I do get into trouble at my workplace every now and then because of my reluctance to be part of any meaningless conversations. An example:

Colleague shuts down his computer, puts on his jacket and, to everyone within earshot (as he heads towards the door) “I am off guys, See you tomorrow!”

And everyone within earshot, almost in unison, “Bye! See you.” Everyone, except me.

Me: “Oh Are you? I thought you just wanted to cool your computer and take your jacket for a walk. And for some strange reason I thought we will not see you tomorrow! Thanks for letting us know the obvious!”

And people think I am a smart-ass!

Anyway, again back to the visibly shaken man. The saner part of my brain requested me to stick to a more obvious line of conversation. The inquisitive part, however, had other ideas!

Guess who won?

“Sorry Sir, I can see that you are visibly shaken, but can you explain what you just said?”

“What?”

“You said you saw this man fall, and a minute later you saw his body! I am trying to understand what happened to him!”

“Are you stupid or what? Can’t you see his body. He’s dead!”

So he was upset and thought I was stupid! Why? Maybe he did not understand my question. It’s pretty obvious he is dead. I was only interested in the cause and explanation of his death, not the events that lead to it. All I wanted to know was what happened to him when he died. The visibly shaken man’s words seem to imply that at the time of impact, something happened that caused the man to turn into a body.

Before I proceed further, I think it will get a bit tedious if I keep on referring to the man as the visibly shaken man all the time, right? Let’s give him a name. Any name. What about Robert? That’s good. Robert Johnson. Better still, lets stick to American protocol and call him Bob! In fact, since there might be other meaningless men who might feature in my story making meaningful contributions, let’s refer to all of them as Bob! Only need to take care that two Bob’s don’t feature in this story at the same time. Don’t worry about that. It’s my story, I will handle it. And to the entire Bob community out there, apologies if I have, or am about to hurt your sentiments. This is not a reflection of what you are truly worth or represent!

Back to Bob, the visibly shaken one, I mean!

Bob was upset at me, and thought I was stupid! Was it because our line of conversation did not stick to the obvious? Something like:

“Oh! I am so sorry! Did you know this guy?”

“No I didn’t, but it was terrible man!”

“Can you explain what you saw?”

And on he would go to describe something that I have no stomach for. Time to move on.

“See you Bob!”

“Bob? Who the f@#k said my name was Bob?”

So I would have upset him anyway! Was it because Bob, or whoever, did not hear what he wanted to. Maybe all he wanted were words of sympathy for having witnessed the horrific death of a person he had never met. So I guess it wasn’t what I said, but rather what I didn’t, that upset him. Or maybe, he was just looking for a reason to be upset.

I think Bob would have been upset, no matter what. I don’t think asking his name the first time around would have helped either. I would have forgotten it anyway. As a rule, I never ask a person’s name if I am not sure we will meet again. I always prefer to leave the name-exchange ceremony for the second meeting. I hope you agree that “Hey! We met last week, remember! My Name’s Bob! What’s yours?” is a lot less embarrassing then engaging in a conversation with a person whose name you can’t remember! It gets worse when your girl friend walks in just as soon as nameless man leaves your side.

“Where’s Bob?”

“Bob?”

“Yes, my brother! I saw him by your side a minute ago!”

“Ah Bob! I think he just went to the loo.” Thank God his name was as obvious as Bob!

Now before I proceed, I realize I can't call every meaningless person I meet Bob. Apart from upsetting a whole lot of Bob’s, it wouldn’t be politically correct. Let me explain.What if the next Bob I meet is European? Would it not be appropriate to call him Rob? And if he happens to be German, should I not refer to him as Rob Wolfgange? Or just Wolfgange? And Jean-Paul for a Frenchman, Alberto for an Italian, Pedro for a Spaniard. And let’s not forget the English? Billy? And if he has been knighted, Sir William. Good, but I cannot assume that every meaningless person I refer to is White or Christian. Let’s not forget the Chinese, Indian, Japanese, Afghans, Russians, Turkish etc. And Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, etc. Lets move on.
Lee for a Chinese, Sukomo for a Japanese, Mohammed for a Muslim. Given the regional nuances in India, it needs special attention. Rajiv for a North Indian, Patel for a Gujarati, and Krishna Moorthy for a South Indian.

This is exciting. Once I am done with the men, I will move to the women. Though I may have only scratched the surface, I feel I am getting somewhere. Or am I? Sorry guys, I am just trying to make sure that every region, country and religion had a representation here. On second thoughts, this might take too long and get confusing. Besides, will it really matter? These guys are meaningless, so who they are and where they come from is not relevant. All that interests me is their contribution to the story.

What if I refer to Bob, the visibly shaken man and all such men in this story as X. Mr. X, out of respect, especially since I might manage to upset a few along the way. And Ms. Y for all the women. It is important that we distinguish between the two genders. More on that later. For now, having established the identity of the visibly shaken man, or Bob, let’s move on.

I was not willing to offer Mr. X any sympathy for witnessing the death of a person he had never met. Let alone ask him name. All I wanted to do was to understand something that concerns me. After all, I was going to die, and it wouldn’t harm to be prepared for it. And in the process I upset Mr. X, for whatever reasons.

Anyway, I was not upset. In fact, I was more then satisfied. Even though he did not answer my question directly, his words just confirmed what I had come to believe for some time now.

By referring to the falling man and his body as two separate entities, he helped me culminate a thought process that had started a few years ago with a stupid question that popped in my head while watching a movie. I remember it was a gangster movie, but can’t recall the name.

“Boss, we killed him”

“Great, what about his body?”

“We will get rid of it tonight!” That’s it! I could not concentrate on the movie after that! All I could think of was that if they killed him, and still had the body, then what happened to him?

Now I have my answer, which also seems to be the universally excepted fact, though there is some confusion and ambiguity about this. For example take the ritual that immediately follows death: The funeral.

If death is the mere separation of the soul from the body, then isn’t a funeral just a sophisticated way of disposing off the body? If so, then why the fuss over how you dispose the body. Burn it! Bury it! Does it matter? Isn’t it another meaningless ritual to tell the rest of the world, ‘We are different?’

We don’t seem to agree on how to live. Can’t we at least agree on death?