PROLOGUE
I was alive. I am dead.
I am officially dead on this planet. Just moments earlier, I had been contemplating my own death. And now that I was really dead, this was hard to accept.
The guy in the black tuxedo… was he dead? Why did he have to go to Delhi so urgently? Why did he choose me? Was the whole thing a figment of my imagination? Or was it destiny? Was I dreaming? Or maybe I was dead. All these were a blur in my mind as I went numb in shock. Suddenly I was brought back to reality by a sharp voice.
“Would you like to have another coffee?”
I saw the waiter look at me with earnest eyes. Is he dead too? Is this what you call as afterlife? I realized that they have Café Coffee Day in heaven too. I stared at him. He looked quite normal, I could not see any angelic halo around his head nor did he wear any of those fancy dresses which we often associate with the concept of heaven…
“Sir, Would you like to have another coffee? Or a cup of tea?”
“Uh… Can I get a glass of water please? And please get the bill.”
The glass of chilled water calmed me down. I was still sitting at the Café in the airport. All around me people were crowding around the large LCD TV on the wall dishing out the breaking news.
The news of death.
“Latest news comes in from Kolkata about the crash of PAN India Flight Number 73 flying from Kolkata to Delhi. All 103 on board the ill fated aircraft are believed to be dead. Unconfirmed reports say that among the dead is the son of noted industrialist Aditya Gupta… ”
The news of my death.
"If we did not die, if our existence did not unravel in the endless darkness of death, would life be quite so precious, so extraordinary, so moving?", asked Andre Comte-Sponville.
To be continued.
