Yama

RIC J: You are the god of the dead: for what strange idea did you choose the deceased rather than the living?

Y: You are mistaken, mon ami. It’s the living that are dead, and the dead that are living. I am actually the god of life.

RIC J: Is there sex after death?

Y: There is no sex before death. No sex after death. Sex only happens during death.

RIC J: When was your last chopped steak?

Y: In the dilapidated bylanes of Old Delhi, where I kill the sacred cows, then eat them raw with just a little bit of fleur de sel.

RIC J: Do you have a library in Hell? Which books are there?

Y: Bitter Lemons, The Passion According to G.H., Atomised, Mir Taqi Mir’s diwan. And a library in Hell would be incomplete without The Complete Unwritten Works of Saudamini Deo.

RIC J: Have you ever hosted gods in the underworld, and most importantly, can the gods die? If they die, what do they die of?

Y: The gods live in the underworld with me. Sometimes they die of a broken heart, sometimes from a disease contracted from another universe, but sometimes – most times – they die of being gods.

RIC J: If you could give life back to someone, who would it be and why?

Y: I would never give life back to anyone. No one on this mortal earth deserves it.

RIC J: Who would you like to bring here, to Hell, without delay?

Y: You.

RIC J: Thank you for answering our questions, but just before returning to the world of the living, once is not custom, in memory of a Sufi patient, could you define death in two words only?

Y: My name.

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