2.5 stars
It's about this city in uttar Pradesh that's got the Ganges going through it, so there's this house called the Bhavan where people go to die. Then they bring the body down to the ghat where they build a pyre with wood and put spices on it and put the body on top and set it on fire, and at a certain time the priest tells the next of kin to crack the skull so the soul can fly out and be free. Then the next of kin goes to get Ganges water in a pot and walks up the steps of the ghat and when the priest tells him he throws The Clay pot behind his shoulder so it cracks and water goes on to the cremains. Then they throw that whole thing in the water. And that's supposed to be a good death, one where you did not get reincarnated anymore.
So the protagonist is the manager of the bhavan. His family he left behind in the North is a mess, his father and his uncle are alcoholics who beat him and his cousin for every little thing when they were young. So the protagonist took his cousin's chance to go to college and instead of going to college he met the daughter of the manager of the Bhavan and married her. So one week after, he took his wife back to the farm to present her, and his father and his uncle were extremely pissed off, because they had arranged for him to marry kamna. But he never got that letter where they told him about it, so they were really pissed off at him. Anyway 10 years later, and the cousin dies, trying to get a hold of the protagonist, so he haunts the bhaVan, banging the pots in the washroom every night at 2 hours past midnight.
I don't understand how Pramesh and his wife made their money, but In the Bhavan:
"... Lodging was free; guests were to provide for their own needs. Meals were to be simple with little or no spice that might awaken the senses, the goal being to nourish rather than entice. And stays were limited to two weeks.
The last rule ensured all pilgrims had the same fair chance at ending their days in the Holy city, lest the hostel become host to folk who lingered for months on end while others languished, waiting for a vacated place. But this was also the rule that the guests argued over the most. For the old man in no. five, returning to home meant he would miss this chance to die a death that was the best one could Hope for on this earth: the city promised it would be the last - the death to end all rebirths and miseries. But now he would suffer another birth, hopefully once again as a man, but if he had been imprudent in this life he might return as an insect, a monkey, a bullock Destined to draw a wooden plow until exhaustion brought upon death and triggered the cycle anew, pulling the soul into the misery of yet another life. Who knew what path a person's karma could put them on? Who could be sure they had not committed a sin that would set them backward by fives births?...."

When Sagar dies, and his ghost begins haunting the washroom, Pramesh signs all the lands from his family over to the widow, hoping this will appease the ghost, and allow those guests in the hostel and his family to have peace. But it didn't work. So Pramesh goes on a journey to follow his cousin's footsteps in the few days before his death, in the hopes of finding why his ghost won't rest. He finds out that, contrary to others' beliefs, his cousin was not drunk. He had gotten a bottle from the moonshiner to get some of the river water. And Pramesh finds out from a boatman, a clue to what Sagar may have been doing:
"...'the man has to go alone, no matter how weak he is, and then he must walk as far as he can, until he feels he will collapse and die right there on the sand. And then, when he is at the immediate point of dying - only then will the Bearer of Death come."
The boatman goes on to say that on this side of the Ganges, you find the Good Death, but on the other side, the side called Magadha, the Bearer is welcome.
"... 'It's not an easy thing. The man must really be dying - only those so close to the edge of two Worlds can see the Bearer of Death. And he must be alone as well. If a healthy man whose time has not yet come hovers nearby, then neither of them will be able to see Yamraj. but if the dying man does everything correctly, if he sees the Bearer, then he has his chance to plead with YamRaj to put down the noose and snatch his soul on another day. Perhaps the Bearer will listen. But there is no way to be certain unless that man actually tries.' " thus, it must have been that Sagar, as he knelt at the side of the boat to dip The jug into the Ganges River water, because of his illness, he fell into the water and drowned.

Shobha, Pramesh's wife, lives a life subservient to her husband, something that is worse (in India) than wives' subservience to their husbands in the United States. I couldn't help feeling resentful when I read the following episode, where their daughter Rani is playing around in the kitchen:
"... Rani had pried open the lid of the rice tin and upended the contents onto the floor, leaving nothing for the evening meal.
'Rascal child!' Rani grabbed fistfuls of rice, smiling at the stream of grains falling between her fingers. Shobha stepped over the mess and grabbed the girl, hoping to salvage some of the rice, but when she brushed Rani's arm, the child shrieked and burst into tears. Before she could comfort the girl, Rani ran to Pramesh, who came up behind her and scooped the girl up.
'Careful,' he said, his tone sharp. 'It was an accident. Leave her.' He walked out of the kitchen with Rani, leaving Shobha amid the mess.
She cleaned up the rice grains, her heart pumping, shame sending a Rush of blood to her ears. The feeling remained all afternoon and evening as she cleaned the vegetables and sweated over the fire, especially when Rani ran into her arms, the earlier incident already forgotten. but after everyone had eaten, after the priests, Mohan, and Sheetal had thanked her for the meal, after she had cleaned the dishes and the kitchen and after she'd had a moment to think, her shame turned into something else. Anger Rose at the back of her throat and radiated down her stomach. Ever since the day Rani was cut at the Mistry house, Shobha had felt that the mantle of guilt was hers to wear. Pramesh certainly had not tried to make her feel otherwise. For days, his every action and look seemed to imply that she was a neglectful mother. She, who had to be everything to everyone, who reserved every worry, every prayer, every thought for her daughter and husband. Who dealt with her husband's moods and infuriating silences, his secrets that drove her to go seeking for answers herself."
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