A household name in Srirangam, Sauri explains why he steps in to conduct the last rites of those abandoned by everyone.
Published Nov 08, 2022 | 9:00 AM ⚊ Updated Nov 08, 2022 | 9:00 AM
A young Sauri, front left, with his "team". He has been helping with the last rites of the destitute and abandoned in Srirangam for four decades now. (Supplied)
Parthasarathy’s body was lying in the toilet of a one-bedroom flat. No one knew how long it had been lying there. But when the overpowering stench reached the streets, neighbours knew whom to call.
Within minutes, Sauriraajen Regunathan reached the spot, broke open the door, picked up the lifeless body when others could not stand the overwhelming stench, and arranged the cremation after wrapping up the formalities of with the help of local police who, in fact, have him on speed dial and often avail of his services.
“This was a while ago but I vividly remember that day. Parthasarathy was missing for four days and we thought he was travelling,” recollected Jayalakshmi, a neighbour of the deceased in Srirangam, in Tamil Nadu’s Tiruchirappalli district.
“I can never forget the stench, nor the sight of the decaying corpse,” she told South First.
But Sauri, as Regunathan is locally known, is not new to such disturbing deaths. The 57-year-old devout man has been cremating and burying bodies since adolescence.
Over the decades, he has conducted funerals for thousands of people, mostly as an unpaid service to those who can’t afford it or are unaccompanied by friends or family. And he is so self-effacing, he refused to be photographed for this story.
“The number of apartments is increasing in Srirangam. A lot of elderly and retired people stay alone,” Sauri told South First. “Everyone expects others to help when there’s a death in the family, but they seldom turn up when someone else needs assistance.”
Almost every household knows of Sauri in Srirangam.
When asked what pushed him to take up such an unconventional walk of life, Sauri talked of the incident that drove him to it.
“I was studying in the 7th Grade, when an elderly lady passed away at our ancestral village, but none came to help the family,” he recalled.
“My father asked why I didn’t take part in the funeral and help them, and when I replied I didn’t know them, he scolded me severely, saying this was more important than praying to God or other rituals.
“That incident was the turning point in my life.”
Sauri said he can recall at least a dozen deaths marked by either apathetic neighbours, sons indifferent towards their parents, or mocking community members.
In one such heart-rending episode, he recalled how neighbours forcefully shifted a mentally unstable elder to a care home.
“We sent the father to a care home at 12.30 pm and he died at 4.30 pm,” said Sauri, who cremated the victim as his son was in Dubai at that time.
Funerals in this part of the country are elaborate affairs entailing cumbersome rituals and participation by relatives. But at the same time, the nitty-gritty of the final funeral rites at crematoria are undertaken only by some people, sometimes from specific castes.
The physical handling of the corpse at the crematoria or burial ground is a thankless task, and considered a taboo. And those who undertake it — the likes of Sauri — are looked down upon by others.
Such points of view are more pronounced in a temple town like Srirangam, a place with a rigid caste hierarchy system and which hosts a world-famous temple that is visited by an estimated 20,000 people daily, with the number spiking to 100,000 on special occasions.
Considered the seat of the Sri Vaishnava sect, a prominent and influential Brahmin group, the island town is full of activity throughout the year with festivals and visitors.
The temple, presided by the deity of Lord Ranganatha, is the world’s biggest functioning Hindu temple, and is located in a sprawling complex roughly the size of 120 football fields.
It is also among the richest temples in the country, but offers no support to Sauri.
On his part, Sauri, like most others in his team, has stopped visiting the temple following corruption allegations against it.
Sauri runs a small taxi company with the help of his team members like Chellappa, 62, a long-term associate, to fund his work and the education expenses of 25 impoverished children annually through a public trust.
He has also set up a dedicated cremating facility when he realised the local crematoriums were overburdened and ill-equipped to handle more bodies. Or the deaths of destitutes.
The crematorium — build on the land owned by a trust run by Sauri — exists in addition to the two government-run facilities in the town.
This was after a major fire accident in 2004 that killed 58 people at a wedding hall in Srirangam; Sauri performed the funeral of 45 victims continuously for three days without any break.
“Deaths are an integral part of our lives. I was in the crematorium when I got the news that my wife was pregnant. The first trip in my brand new vehicle was to carry a dead body,” said associate Chellappa.
Chellappa also explained how he handles the corpses of children, holy men and women, and the forsaken.
For instance, he places thorny bushes underneath any child’s body. This is to prevent anyone practising black magic in nearby villages from digging up the corpse. And, saints’ bodies are buried in a sitting position and not rested on a flat position.
Local beliefs and customs dictate how those bodies are handled.
“They all call me the corpse carrier, but I don’t bother,” said Chellappa bravely, masking the hurt such derision causes.
“I never take a single penny for what I do. This is a service,” he added proudly.
Echoed Sauri: “Only the efforts are ours. The results belong to Lord Ranganatha.”