Angel of Death

Sarvesh could walk no further in the desert. His feet gave in and he slumped on the ground.

Before him appeared an old man with red eyes, covered in dark robes. An angel of death. In a very business like tone he spoke ‘ Name: Sarvesh Jadhav. Age: Twenty four years, five months, two weeks, three days and twenty nine seconds. Cause of death: Dehydration. Time of..’

‘Wait! Please wait!’ Sarvesh uttered. ‘I don’t want to die yet. I CANNOT die so soon.’

Very calmly the death angel said ‘Yes. You can.’

Desperately Sarvesh said ‘But look I have done so many good things in my life! Why can’t you consider that and give me a second chance?’

As the angel looked into Sarvesh’s  dark brown eyes, he could see that this boy had not done anyone any good deed in his life. Everything was done with a selfish motive. This boy needs to be taught a lesson.

 ‘Very well Sarvesh. I give you three days to live. If you survive at the end of the third day, you shall live for another fifty years.’

As the angel said that, Sarvesh felt his surroundings blur and his eyes get heavy.

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Sarvesh snapped awake and looked around to realize that he was in his bed. Was it all a dream?

As he looked out of the window he saw the clouds move to form four words, Three days to go.

Shit, shit, shit. Not a dream.

Sarvesh had thought that the photo shoot in the Sahara desert would really help his career. It would have, if he hadn’t been stupid enough, to go around scouting on his own for a location. Now he wondered, how will he explain to his boss that he had suddenly returned to Mumbai. Freshening up quickly, he left for office. 

The boss was not very pleased. With a lot of pleading Sarvesh managed to secure his next assignment.

 If there was one thing that Sarvesh was good at, it was how to manipulate people , to get things to work his way.

Great, he would be covering a photo shoot of Madhuri Dixit. She’s getting old, but people seem to like her. He thought.

Sarvesh sat down at his desk to have some break fast. As he began eating the large paper masala dosa, his mind turned back to his near death escape. Why did that guy be so kind to me?

He happened to glance at his dosa, and to his horror saw that out of the masala, there was a hoard of small tarantula’s creeping out. He quickly threw the dosa out of the window.

What the f*ck?

Sarvesh wanted to go home and lock himself in his bedroom. But how would he explain this to his boss? Damn, I have to go to the photo shoot.

Nervously looking around, scared out of his wits he walked down the pavement leading to the studio.

He reached the studio and with a shivering hand he started to set up his equipment. Suddenly he felt an instinct tell him that he should not stand where he is standing.  And as he quickly leaped away, a replica of a yellow IAF Mig-29 crashed on the exact spot where he had stood.

A crane operator came running towards him. ‘Arre Sirji, aap thik ho? Sorry woh crane shayad thoda kharab ho gaya.’

Sarvesh ran away. He ran like is life depended on it. Then realizing that running perhaps won’t help, he stopped. Looked around and locked himself in a toilet cubicle.

There must be a way to beat that b*stard. There must be..There must be..

He started crying and suddenly started laughing hysterically.

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The angel of death sat somewhere in the Himalayas away from humanity and its stink, when he heard someone call to him. 

Listen, I give up. I give up. Just come and kill me..I..I can’t take this..kill me..KILL ME.

He smiled. The boy has learned.

As Sarvesh was washing his face in the basin of the public toilet, the angel appeared. 

The angel solemnly said ‘So I understand that we are ready to go.’

A worn out looking Sarvesh turned around. He gazed at the angel and said ‘I guess, when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go.’

‘Indeed.’ agreed the angel.

‘Except,’ said Sarvesh now smiling coolly, ‘Its not me who is going.’

For the first time the angel felt confused. And as he looked on, he saw Sarvesh’s eyes change from dark brown to red. The color of the eyes of a death angel. 

Sarvesh now adorned in dark robes, looked on at the angel. He said ‘Satan requires a young, energetic motivated employee. And apparently according to him, I fit the bill better than you.’

‘It is time for you, my old friend  to die.’

The old man now stood with no shred of cloth on his body and stripped of his eyesight. 

‘But wait! NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME!! I’m a loyal servant!!! I HAVE served well!! YOU CANNOT DO THIS!’

The old man ranted and raved. Then suddenly, he stopped ranting and raving. Forever.

As Sarvesh carried the old man’s soul to hell, he thought to himself, Now this is what I call job satisfaction.