India, Aug. 15 -- An excellent work of reportage, The Corpse Collector delves deep into the life of Vinu P, a man who has dedicated his life to retrieving unclaimed bodies in Kerala. Vinu, who offers the dead much-needed dignity, became a corpse collector quite accidentally, at the age of 15. A schoolmate had drowned in a river and he offered to help the police when everyone else looked away. He was wearing his school uniform when he pulled out his first body. Initially, it was the congratulatory pat on the back from the police that drew Vinu to retrieving badly mangled and crushed bodies from roadsides and railway tracks. He started assisting a bunch of corpse collectors. He tagged along with his mentors, who tipped him for running errands. These elderly "masters" (asanmar), who were homeless outcastes, were almost always inebriated, but they taught him how to do this difficult work. Over time, he grew from assistant to full-fledged master himself. The police began choosing Vinu over his "masters" and paid him well. They bought him his first cellphone, and sent a police jeep to fetch him when a case came up. In the process, he not only learned how to collect bodies on his own, but also became well-versed with medico-legal procedures such as autopsies. In some weeks, he is called as many as three times. In a more evolved society, his actions would be seen as yeoman service rendered. Sadly, Vinu has been demeaned and punished. He is called a shavamvari (a word that translates to corpse collector but has layers of disgust embedded in it) and has been pushed to the margins for serving the dead. Ironically, he is often stigmatised by the family members of those whose decomposed bodies he has retrieved and buried. In this unflinching portrait of human cruelty, readers learn that Vinu has also been denied the opportunity to take up a steady job and earn a decent living. This despite the fact that his compassion shines through in the way he ensures that decomposed bodies don't fall apart and are accorded a proper burial. He often pays for these burials himself. Always methodical, Vinu maintains a personal register to keep track of who he has interred. This has helped some families find closure. Though many disown decomposed corpses, a few are grateful for whatever is left behind. Such was the case of the Goan mother who travelled to Kerala looking for the remains of her daughter, who had fallen from a train. "Tracing the case number, I recovered the girl's relics. When the plastic sheet was opened, there was only water and a few bones. After the storm and rain in her heart abated, the mother reverently received the remains of her daughter. She took her away to her homeland," says Vinu, whose resilience and compassion shine through in this book. Sadly, he has been shunned by his extended family too. The first jolt came when he attended a family gathering. As the meal was being served, he was asked to leave. His parents could not find him a wife as gossiping neighbours shooed away the families of prospective brides. Eventually, it was the police that came to his rescue. In a scene heavy with tragi-comedy, the reader learns of how police patrolled the neighbourhood when the family of a prospective bride visited, and ensured that sneaky villagers did not tell them tall tales. The Corpse Collector provides unusual perspectives on the police too. In addition to helping in his search for a bride, Vinu recounts how members of the Kerala police force bought him numerous cellphones, when he kept losing his. They pooled together money to buy him an ambulance, to give his profession more dignity; and consistently honoured his quiet heroism, perhaps as a way to compensate for the painful manner in which he has been ostracised. Policemen often confided in him, an experience that has made him realise, he says, that every profession comes with its own challenges and predicaments. Vinu believes society in Kerala is like a cat that pretends to be tame but cruelly plays with its victim: "It shall not kill at a single go, but relishes the torture, cut by cut." Occasionally, though, he bumps into a Good Samaritan. Like the owner of a restaurant, who refused to ask him to leave when an advocate wanted him out. "You dare allow fellows like him at a place where dignified people come to have food? Do you know what he does? Gather rotten, stinking, shattered bodies.," the man had yelled. Another Good Samaritan from Canada sent him money, while yet another allowed him to bury unclaimed bodies on his land. Vinu, who often spends up to Rs 4,000 per burial, is grateful for such occasional acts of kindness. He is now considering applying for a licence and plot to set up a graveyard for the unclaimed. Niyas Kareem, a journalist with the Malayalam press for more than two decades, teamed up with Vinu to write his story, which went on to be a bestseller. This English translation by Ministhy S, an IAS officer of the Uttar Pradesh cadre, is a compelling portrait of a man whom society has rendered invisible, someone it has deliberately chosen to unsee. All of which brings the reader to the realisation that, even in the most progressive societies of the subcontinent, this is the case with professions tinged with caste taboo: that of the sanitation worker as well as the corpse collector. While everyone relies on the vital work carried out by these individuals, they are inevitably isolated and pushed to the fringes. Ministhy S's elegant translation perfectly captures this stench in our society....