chatterbox

His home: a cremation ground the well-known Nigambodh Ghat on the banks of the Yamuna river that flows through the outskirts of Delhi.

His job: to carry the wood for cremations from the storage area to be weighed, and then transported, usually manually - to the site earmarked for a cremation.

Sometimes, Nandu Din was asked to lay the wood at the site in such a manner that when lit, the flames from the funeral pyre consumed the dead body quickly and efficiently. Nandu Din’s job didn’t end with that. Once he had carried the wood for a particular cremation, he became entitled to clothes and coverings, generally shawls draped over the dead body as a mark of respect and a “last offering” by relatives and friends, and any traditional donations in cash or kind. He then had to wait for the mandatory waiting period - four days in most cases, before relatives and friends returned to collect a small portion of the ashes and partially burnt bones for immersion in the holy Ganges at Haridwar or elsewhere at a time and date specified by a priest. Once this ceremony was complete, Nandu Din too could complete his job of collecting the remainder of the ashes for disposal, usually in the Yamuna river although in recent years pollution related outcries have made him very cautious about admitting this officially or on the record. Having cleared all the ashes from the cremation site, Nandu Din would then sweep and wash the place ready to receive another dead body for cremation.

At times, he handled between five to six cremations in a day and between them, his younger brother Rati Din and Nandu Din handled anywhere between two to fifteen cremations in a day. But the number of cremations to which they contributed their labour had nothing to do with the amount they were paid by the contractor at the cremation ground. They were paid a flat daily wage of Rs 70 per day. This meager amount they supplemented by selling to shopkeepers the coverings and shawls, often very expensive ones - draped over the dead and removed before the pyre was lit. The shopkeepers in turn sold them to customers without of course informing them of the source through which they had come. How did it matter, the shopkeepers reasoned: the shawls or sheets were after all brand new and were placed on a dead body for at the most a few hours. Neither did Nandu Din and Rati Din have any qualms about revealing the truth about the coverings to shopkeepers. They were after all, Doms, entitled since countless generations to anything that came off a dead body or was given as a donation. Many shopkeepers declined to purchase such coverings but Nandu Din and Rati Din though always on the lookout for better rates, had been doing the rounds for so long that they knew by now who would and who would not buy from them.

For grieving relatives and friends accompanying the mortal remains of a departed soul, both the beginning and the end of the cremation were understandably highly emotive. For Nandu Din and Rati Din and other Doms at the cremation grounds, both the beginning and the end of every cremation they “handled” was very important too - but for very different reasons. Their reasons had more to do with living, and never mind if that living was directly associated with the dead and death in general. As explained, the beginning of the creation was important for them because they received the dead body’s coverings and sold them for a good price. The ending of a cremation was often more important. How? Because in the ashes they often found the remains of gold ornaments such as earrings, a nose ring, finger rings, or a necklace that the dead body might have been wearing.

Many families remove such ornaments from a dead body but other families do not have the heart or have other reasons for not removing them from the body of a beloved family member. “When the body is placed on a funeral pyre, we usually keep a look out for ornaments,” disclosed Nandu Din. “If we spot any, we return to the cremation site once the ashes have cooled and if any half or partially melted pieces catch our eye, we pick them up without disturbing the ashes - that would be wrong.

“We don’t like taking the ornaments at this stage before the relatives have returned for the final ash collection ceremony, but if we don’t there’s no guarantee that some relative may not pick them up to give away to some one else or whatever. If we can’t see any ornaments, we wait till the ash collection ceremony is over and then we go through the ashes very carefully, passing them through a sieve and often we find melted pieces. See,” and he pulled out a small pouch from his pocket and emptied it on the palm of his hand. A half melted earring of a very good design was clearly visible. There was a small piece of a chain and the rest were unrecognisable pieces of melted, mis-shapen gold which must have been in the centre of the heat or perhaps the wood at that particular pyre burnt for longer or was of a larger quantity.

“We do manage to find something or the other almost every day and a collection of four or five pieces is enough to send us to a jeweller. But mind you, this is always at great risk to us.” “If you get caught?” I queried. “No,” he answered. “But first let me go and sell these, then I’ll tell you how we often stake our lives to earn a worthwhile amount.” It took some persuasion for Nandu Din and Rati Din to agree to let me accompany them on their excursion to Chandni Chowk Dariba Kalan - to be precise. Once there, as we wove our way through the crowded street, strange feelings were seeping through me. We stopped and they pointed at a small jewellery shop. “We have been coming to this particular jeweller for many years. He knows, doesn’t ask too many questions every time and gives us a good price in the end,” they confided. “But don’t say you are with us as he may not then deal with us,”

I nodded but entered just a minute after them, in time to see the jeweller pull out a red velvet covered tray and place it on the counter. I sat down on the long bench, a foot or so away from the brothers and pretended to be absorbed in looking around at the pieces on display. Nandu Din pulled out his pouch and emptied the contents on the tray. The jeweller didn’t touch the pieces. Instead, he pulled out a pair of forceps from a drawer and inspected each piece before weighing them together. He then poured something on them from a small bottle, lit a small blow lamp, and proceeded to melt them. This took some doing and some time - the jeweller was obviously not used to keeping his cheeks blown and holding his breath for long periods. After completing the melting process, a liquid was once again poured on the now shapeless metal, it was patted dry with a piece of cotton wool and was then tested on a “kasauti” or touchstone. Obviously satisfied with the results, the jeweller flipped open a small electronic calculator, and handed over Rs 14,000 to Nandu Din. But both the brothers protested at the amount.

“The prices of gold are so high and you’re giving us so little.”. After much haggling, the jeweller added another Rs 400 to the amount and the brothers left, still grumbling. I hastily asked the price of a pendant, shook my head and followed them out. “Now tell me how this is a great risk to you, everything seemed so organised,” I asked.

“We are at great risk, first of all, from the living who, knowing we are Doms, try and give us as little as possible. As you saw, we had to fight for the price and this we have to do each time. More than that, our lives are at risk from the dead. Once, we recovered gold from the ashes at a particular site and in less than an hour, the spirit of the woman who had been cremated caught me by the hair. ‘How dare you take my ornaments,’ she screamed so loudly in my ear that I’m still hard of hearing. ‘Those ornaments were a gift to me from my husband and he refused to take them off my body despite pleas from relatives. The ornaments and his refusal to take them off my body are a mark of his love for me. Let them remain with my ashes and become a part of eternity. It pains me tremendously to see them in your hands and it will pain me to see them in other hands. If you don’t do what I say I will hound you till you do what I say.’ Normally, since we deal with death almost all the time, we are not afraid of the dead. But the spirit of that dead woman was so persistent and so angry that she even tried to drag me to the Yamuna and drown me in it. Every time I would try to set out to sell them she would assault me physically. And then one night, she won: the pouch containing the pieces of ornaments just disappeared and with that her appearances and her constant badgering too stopped so I knew that she had got her way. This is just one amongst several life threatening instances that I’ve experienced.”

The living and the dead fighting over an object important to both, but the values governing the fight are so different.