Gyan Prasad Acharya has tested the verity of this universal law having worked at Pashupati Aryaghat (crematorium) for 22 years. After dealing with thousands of deaths, he knows that apart from a few additional stuffs on the pyre there is not much difference between a poor and the king. "Working here as a ghaate (one who cremates), I can never wander away from that reality," Acharya says with a wry smile.
The 60-year-old from Thankot is not proud about his job but he has long accepted his limitations as an illiterate. "It may not be the best of the jobs around but it surely is among the most important ones," he argues. And he presents a very strong case for his argument.
After the 2001 royal massacre, he and his colleagues stayed at home fearing more bloodshed. "The police came searching for us and escorted back to home after our work. I attended to the pyres of the king and queen," he reminisces. He then goes emotional and says that King Birendra was a father figure, unlike his brother Gyanendra whom he despises. "I had shaved my head like many Nepalis [as a symbol of mourning]," he says.
So, how much was he paid for that assignment? "Just Rs 540 that the Ghaat Management Committee paid for every other assignment," he says with a hint of anger and then adds that it was a privilege to have cremated the revered king.
That Rs 540 has gone up to Rs 765 now and he struggles to make ends meet with the amount. There are 24 of them and they have to wait for their turn. "We generally get around 20 [cremation jobs] per month," he replies after a pause for some calculation.
He stays with his second wife and a 15-year-old son in a rented room in Jayabageshwari as his kind of duty needs him near Pashupati. He also has to pay for the education of his son who recently took the final exams of the seventh grade in Hillary School, Gaurighat.
"We have to stay near such extreme heat for more than three hours and have to do our duty irrespective of the weather and time," he complains as if seeking acknowledgment of their hardship during work.
He is hurt that a TV channel last year mocked them saying that they come laughing with a green bamboo to work when everyone is bereaved by death. "Even if they cannot appreciate our tough job, they have no right to mock us. We are poor people doing this job after all other options were exhausted. And somebody has to do the dirty job," he fumes and then corrects that Hindu tradition considers it a pious act.
He maintains that they don´t joke around while doing their job and it is also not right to expect them to mourn like the family members while doing a routine job for living. "They say we don´t have feelings but I have done my work for free and instead given a few hundred rupees to poor families who spent all their money on the failed treatment on a few occasions," he mentions. "I have also lit the funeral pyre of a few who did not have anyone to light it."
He recalls his early days when there were about 10-15 of them and they had trouble in the absence of Ghaat Management Committee that came into existence only 11 years ago. "We even had to go about looking for work and have carried a few bodies to Aryaghat ourselves. There was no routine and we had to make do with what came to us," he says recollecting the then rate of Rs 200 per cremation.
He hopes to work for another 10 years so that his son can grow up and find some kind of job. "I know my financial limitations and don´t dream about making him a doctor or an engineer. Any kind of petty jobs will do but I don´t want him to be forced to do my kind of work," he says with determination.
But his work keeps on reminding how fickle life is. He deposits Rs 500 and the Pashupati Area Development Trust adds Rs 200 every month for the last two years to save for the rainy days ahead. "The money can only be withdrawn if I become unfit for work or die," he says staring at a burning pyre with a sense of inevitability.
(All photos by Bikash Karki.)
premdhakal@myrepublica.com
Related story
Worth of stories
