I had a rather unusual visit to a cemetery last week. We were there to offer prayers in memory of my late uncle, and the entire family had gathered for the occasion.
That's when he appeared — the gravedigger. Let’s call him Dude Z. To our surprise, he struck up a conversation with all of us, chatting away like an old acquaintance. What immediately stood out was how much he knew — not just about the cemetery, but about everyone buried there. Names, family ties, connections across generations... it was like watching a human version of Facebook in action.
And then, there was his English. Flawless. With a hint of a British accent. Definitely not something you'd expect from a gravedigger deep in the heartlands of South India. The contrast was both amusing and oddly impressive.
We also noticed several cats roaming around. My nephew and I tried feeding them whatever snacks we had on hand. That’s when Dude Z remarked, “Oh, they have their own snacks and a snacking time! There are five of them — they sit around to keep me company while I dig graves.” He pointed toward a spot in the distance and added, “You’ll see their special food kept there.”
He went on to explain how the cats were cared for, with evident pride. “I spend a thousand bucks on them!” he declared, his eyes lighting up with a mix of pride and playful swagger.
My nephew and I exchanged a quick glance — a silent but synchronized “Did he just flex that?” kind of look.
Later, we couldn't stop talking about the encounter. Dude Z had left an impression. He now had two new fans.
And then came my nephew’s cheeky remark:
“Die-hard fans’ has a whole different meaning in his case.”
LOL. Well played.
