Death met Lieutenant Nachiketas at the enemy border wearing a shalwar-kameez, and greeted him with a salaam. He took
Nachiketas to his home and offered him food and drink. Although it was Nachiketas who was under house arrest, it was Death who played the victim.
“I was like this when I met your namesake, son of Gautam, ages back,” said Death, puffing up his cheeks and indicating the phantom bulge in his upper arms where now there was none. Death spoke in Urdu, of course, the official tongue.
“Listen to my tale of woe and win back your freedom,” Death proposed. Nachiketas did so, and found himself walking into the border of his country,
wondering how the great terror of mankind had shrunk his tongue to speak one language, and taken on the color of a neighbor’s face.
Lieutenant Nachiketas felt he had won his freedom too easily. He was embarrassed he would have no tale of glory to tell.
