Excerpt: The Corpse Collector; A True Story by Vinu P and Niyas Kareem

An extract from the first chapter of the memoir of a man who gathers bodies from roadsides and canals in Kerala, helps police with inquests, and even buries the unclaimed dead

This incident happened a decade ago.

Author Vinu P (Courtesy the publisher)

A motorbike was discovered under suspicious circumstances in a deserted hilly area, near the highway route connecting Munnar and Kanthalloor. A few workers of the neighbouring resorts had noticed the bike. Usually, only visitors to the resorts came that way. The bike was parked on top of a huge boulder. A deadly gorge, almost 150 ft deep, loomed beneath. It was only natural that the locals called the cops.

During the preliminary investigations, some facts were ascertained. The bike rider was not alone. Perhaps it was a couple. Either they had met with an accident or died by suicide. Since there were no signs of foul play or accident, it was concluded that the couple had chosen to jump off the rock. It was highly risky to explore the ravine. To add to the woes, there was a formidable, thick mist. One could hardly see the face of the man standing a short distance away. What could the police do under such circumstances?

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Dusk arrived, but there was no information available of the missing couple. The police decided to pitch camp temporarily at the summit. They were also trying to get in touch with men in the whereabouts who dealt with dead bodies. There was an old man in that region who used to undertake such tasks. There was no way that he would slither down the gorge and retrieve the corpses. Usually, people got stone drunk before attempting such feats. Of course, that was totally ruled out in this particular case. Nobody in their right senses would take such a huge risk. They sought help from neighbouring districts. That is how the Munnar Police got to know about the man in Aluva.

I was taken straight to the spot of the tragedy. It was half past five in the morning. Bone-chilling cold wrapped around the desolate heights. The preparations began. Two vehicles of the fire force stood ready, fully equipped with iron wire ropes, crane and nets. The revenue divisional officer who held magisterial powers, superintendent of the fire force and police surgeon were present. There was a posse of police, local politicians and villagers. Many journalists from print and TV channels clamoured around. An ambulance and medical team were on standby, in case, the missing couple was found alive.

It was eleven in the morning when all arrangements were completed. I puffed a beedi to keep away the cold. My teeth chattered in that bitter chill. One was not used to such a hostile climate. I was clad in a heavy-duty jacket made of flame-retardant material used by the fire force, with multiple pockets and secure closures, and hooked up to a safety belt. They had armed me with a whistle, sacks and a wireless set. Whether the wireless would work in the deep ravine was something I had no clue about. The whistle was meant to alert everyone on discovering the dead bodies or when facing any danger. The sacks were for bringing up the corpses.

Co-author Niyas Kareem (Courtesy the publisher)

I was working in a high range area (elevated hilly land) for the first time in my life. If the iron wire rope broke, I would be shattered to smithereens. Though my life was at stake, I did not feel any fear. There were police and fire force officers ready to help me. Besides, I had a clear goal in front. There were loving hearts waiting far away for these missing persons, who fell knowingly or unknowingly in the gorge.

After tying the iron rope to the crane, they started slowly lowering me into the ravine. After a little while, when I gazed upwards, I could see nothing! There was no glimpse of the crane or anybody around. Only a heavy mist, that stubbornly refused to leave the surroundings. The cold became biting as I descended. I could hear both my chattering teeth and my heartbeats.

In darkness, once your eyes get used to it, a faint glimmer appears. I could make out some silhouettes in that hazy white mist around me. First, the jagged edges of rocks. Then it became a muddle of slopes with waving grass. What the hell is this? I felt as if sinking deep into a surreal, feverish dream.

When I reached almost 60 ft down, I noticed blood on the rock nearby. I blew the whistle, signalling my finding. I started exploring the area. There were layered rocks descending into the abyss. After a detailed search, I saw the girl’s body lying some distance away. When I touched the body, it was very cold. All of life’s warmth had long seeped away. The death must have occurred a few hours before. I safely wrapped the corpse in a sack and signalled to have it pulled up. I continued my search, since the boy’s body was not to be seen anywhere.

When I reached almost a 100 ft down, there was a rocky layer which was vast and ridden with grass. There, after much searching, I found the dead body of the boy. In the powerful impact, his body had splintered into two. Packing the body parts in a sack, I signalled to the officers to pull me up. As I ascended, holding the lifeless body of the strange young man close to my heart, he suddenly felt very dear to me.

A mother was waiting for him somewhere, worried out of her mind, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen her son. I was helpless when it came to saving the young man’s life. At least I could retrieve his body so that his loved ones could take a last look. That satisfaction became the greatest reward in the dangerous game of gambling with my own life.

The dead bodies were shifted to the Munnar Government Hospital, and later to the Kottayam Medical College for post-mortem formalities. Everybody – the officers, politicians and villagers – appreciated me for the successful accomplishment of that perilous assignment. I saw affection and admiration in many eyes. I remembered myself as a fifteen-year-old boy, all those years before, who stared awestruck at the men who dived into the Periyar River, searching for a corpse.

While that image was brimming over in my eyes, many villagers came forward to chat. They wished to know my name and where I hailed from. Many were caught by surprise that I had travelled from Aluva to Munnar to recover the dead bodies. Some generously tucked money into my pocket. The police officers paid me handsomely. They also gave me good food. Though I had retrieved more than 1,500 corpses till then, none was more challenging than the Munnar suicide case.

Translator Ministhy S (Courtesy the publisher)

I was standing on top of a mountain peak, so far away from home, overwhelmed by the love and affection of a large crowd. For the natives, the place might be an infernal ‘suicide point’. But it was a cliff of hope for me. Never in my life had I stood with my spine erect, at such a height, surrounded by light and openness. My yesterdays were fraught with memories of hiding like a rat in the pits of darkness.

Even if the afternoon sun of the present day shines very bright, one cannot forget the darkness of the past’s withered nights. My memories started blazing a trail, amid the day’s