The Devil’s Autopsy

1. Decapitated

Pagrang Village, Assam, Bodoland Territorial Region

15th March 2017 11:00 p.m.

The capped langur remained motionless, perched on the steel bench. Its limbs were fastened to the foldable legs of the table with straps. Her M-shaped legs culminated in her genitals, and her long tail swayed from the hem of the worktable. Her face was black as charcoal, whereas her whiskers and moustache were snow white. The monkey’s small nipples resembled small, dark mounds, gently rising and falling with each breath she took. Biru slid his fi ngers into snug rubber gloves as they made a delicate ‘tip-tap’ rhythm when he latched them around his wrists. The sound echoed across the room. He stood beside the table, looking at the sedated primate’s ECG, heart rate, and pulse rate. The readings sunk back to normalcy. He scrutinised a dozen scalpels emanating smoke from his stainless-steel surgical box, and the blades glistened in the zero watt bulb. There were various shapes and sizes of stainless, tempered, and high carbon steel blades. After careful consideration, he picked the scalpel marked #11—the sharpest with its deadly, long, triangular shape giving away a serrated hypotenuse on its lacerating edge. He kept the box aside as his steady left hand held the neck of the creature. The animal’s throat featured an inverted U, bridging the hanging head and her furry breasts. The notice board on the wall highlighted scribbled notes of authors’ and researchers’ claims on how brain activity lingers even after death. The boldest one was ‘Brain activity has been recorded as much as ten minutes even after death’ in humans and other animals. Actual death comes only during brain-dead scenarios. Animals can keep their brains alive even much longer than humans. The instrument gashed the animal’s throat as blood oozed from the tiny fur tissues. The bones gave away too, and the monkey’s head fell on the bench detaching its body. The limbs shuddered as if somebody electrocuted her. Biru observed the dying creature for a few more minutes until the palpitating stopped. The zigzag lines on the ECG became straight, and the pulse rate was nil. Biru monitored her brain activity. He plugged small metal discs all over the monkey’s head and created an impulse of electrical activity, and the monitor showed the zigzag lines of a brain that still breathed with inverted-V slopes. The EEG was like a child’s doodle of a continuous mountain range.

20 MINUTES LATER

There was a decline in the EEG. “Hal nakoriba, Hal nakoriba... Don’t give up. Don’t give up... I’m coming,” Biru muttered. He held her head in his fingers as if picking up an apple from the ground. Then, he reviewed the documents on his table. The most challenging task was to affix the broken bones. He never believed in metal screws, pins, rods or plates. He used sutures to connect the discontinued tendons and then placed the nerves and veins at the right spots as he marked them on the chart. Once the head was back in position, he stitched the animal’s flesh, skin, and fur. The embroidery featured a zip line chain on the animal’s neck. “A heart transplant takes six hours. With the help of a ventilator, the subject can stabilise breathing. But do that same SHIT with a mutilated head! Many would just pee in their pants... Just a little more...a little more... I’ve only got a few minutes, baby!” he whispered. A small defibrillator sent an electric shock to restore the critter’s heartbeat. The creature jounced. “Come on, come on... Open your eyes, open your eyes...,” Biru murmured, clenching his teeth. He smeared gel on the defibrillator pads and drove the instrument on the monkey’s chest with a powerful thrust; the animal quivered. Thunderstorms entrusted a percussion of rain on the rooftop, and lightning electrified pulsing through the graphite sky. With a deafening roar and a thunderous drum-roll, the electricity vanished, plunging the laboratory into an abyss of impenetrable darkness. “FUCKING SHIT!” Biru yelled and went on cursing everything around him. “FUCK! FUCK!” His face contorted into a deep scowl as anguish fi lled the air, his cries reverberating through the darkness. Gradually, a soothing calm sett led over him, dispelling the storm of emotions within him. He assessed the animal’s pulse. There was nothing. The langur had died. Mutilated heads of a slow loris, a great hornbill, a Malayan giant squirrel, and a Chinese pangolin waft ed through a green solution—all his awards and accreditations of failed experiments. Biru kicked his feet in disgust and sighed, looking at the slimy blood on the table. “Chudachudi, fucking, rakhoshi, cunt-eater!” he screamed and exited the lab. As the door latched locked, a peal of thunder crashed in a fury, and the entire lab shook. The langur’s eyes opened. Her immovable eyes dilated with horror. There was no movement in her pupils or refl ex in her dead cornea. Her pupils changed shape into a pointy oval, like an almond slice. The lifeless monkey’s eyes fl ickered open, and a sinister grin stretched across its resurrected face. It budged a litt le. Just a little.

16th March 2017 10:00 a.m.

“Hoy, hoy. Yes, yes, Pradyut, it was raining all day, and at night it got worse. The storm lashed out the entire valley. Now it has stopped, but we do not have power. Thank God; these mobile phones are still working. So, are you on the way to your office?” said Lila. “Yes, it is eight-thirty here, Aai. I’m off to work; where’s Deuta?” said Pradyut. “Do not ask about your Deuta, dear. He’s been acting weird nowadays. I think old age is taking a toll on him. He has an erratic sleep routine. In a military regime, it makes sense to wake up and sleep early, but what’s the point of waking up at three at dotage? Who does that? And he sleeps by seven in the evening. Yesterday he was fidgeting with something in his lab until eleven. Before my serial Ardhangini could get over, the electricity went for a toss! Poof! I came to bed to find your Deuta lost in thoughts, staring at the ceiling. Yet, he sprung up as usual at three in the morning, had his breakfast by six, and he’s out into the jungle to see the damage caused by the storm yesterday,” said Lila, as she mashed the rice kernels between her fingers, checking if they were cooked. The other clay pot popped bubbles with Masor Tenga, a tangy curry of slow-cooked f ish with a broth sizzling and shreds of outenga (elephant apple), tomato, and lemon. “Hmm... Uhm...” “He’s going to be annoyed regarding the lunch I’m making. Sweetie, for the past few days, he’s been yelling at me for cooking meat and fish. What do we eat apart from beef, fish, duck, pigeon, and pork? He wants only vegetarian food from now on. Ugh! I don’t know what ideologies he’s adapting by dwelling in the forest and talking to strange animals,” Lila sighed. “I know; I’m worried about his bizarre research, Aai. But if he wants to eat only fruits and veggies, let him do that.”

“You always speak for your father, Pradu,” said Lila. “Did you talk to him about selling the land? I’m fi nalising the apartment here very soon, and it’d be helpful if I get some cash,” said Pradyut. “I speak to him every day, dear. I told him that Priyanshi is well-sett led in Kolkata. Priyanshi’s in-laws are generous enough to bequeath them two houses as an asset, and there is no fi nancial constraint on her. Priyanshi is ready to sign a will that she doesn’t need her father’s land in Guwahati. But your adamant Deuta is fi rm on his belief that his land shall be equally distributed between his son and daughter only aft er his death! What am I supposed to do, Pradu?” said Lila. “Please talk to him once again, Aai. Or else, I’ll talk to him later,” said Pradyut. Just a few metres away from the kitchen, in the dungy gloominess of the lab, the langur rotated its head one-eighty degrees on the strapped metal stretcher. Like a line of giant ants foraging for food, the stitch marks on her neck were symmetrical and parallel to her torso. Her eyelids did not fl utt er, her eyes weren’t teary, and her body was inert. The electricity came back to life. The light fl ickered and glimmered on the creature. She twirled her head to face the glowing light. The EEG and ECG machines resuscitated as they fl ickered a long green line of death and a never-ending beep. There was no zigzag patt ern. BEEEEEPPPP