Closing the Accounts
Raymond Pillai

The foul miasma of putrefaction wafted out when the orderly opened the door. Oh God, no! They must have had a power failure and the body had decomposed. But the stench dissipated after the body was rolled out and transferred to a table. I steeled myself as Uncle Kandaswami unwrapped the shroud to reveal a dark form, hands bound together at the wrists with strips of cotton cloth. I half expected my father’s hands to slide apart when Uncle