[ WP ] A deity tweaks our world so that whenever somebody is intentionally murdered , their most important memories and knowledge are absorbed by their killer . This has ramifications at every level , not least among serial killers

Humid air mixed with the intense sun, creating the feeling of India personified, a blanket of heat and shit weighing the land down. Randy looked around his father's village, homes of stone and streets of brick, wiping once more at the sweat on his face. Even the coloring of India seemed duller than America. Browns and tans made up the majority of buildings, if they could be called that. *Hell*, Randy thought as he glanced around at the faces circling his father's death bed, *even the skin colors are dull*. 
 
 More than anything, Randy just wanted to go back home. 
 
 He almost did n't make the flight over, the flight to retrieve the knowledge of a man who had n't so much as graduated high school. Randy always went too far just to please his family. 
 
 The priest, or babaji, or whatever they called themselves signaled for Randy to slide the dagger against his father's neck. 
 
 Randy looked into his father's eyes and smiled. The old man smiled back and nodded. 
 
 The blade went in easily, sliding even easier. It was exactly like the classes taught. He frowned as he did n't feel the force they described. It should have happened by now, some kind of- 
 
 Randy felt like screaming as a wave of energy drove into his chest. Stumbling back, he closed his eyes and grabbed his head. Unable to keep his balance, Randy fell to the ground and let out a yell. 
 
 He felt pride fill his head as he held a small baby, rocking gently in his arms. Happiness as the baby smiled. Anger as it grew up and began breaking things. 
 
 He felt his father's sadness as the boy grew to a man and moved to America. He felt the misery as letters did n't come daily, but instead weekly, then monthly, then not at all. He felt anger, unjustly aimed at his mother, for allowing him to leave. 
 
 He felt regret, staring at the bruise around his mother's eye. Hatred, at himself, for making a fresh one. Hatred, for making a boy that changed his name. 
 
 He felt a different sense fill him... love? He felt the land's color grow vibrant. The people began to have names. The Babaji's forgiveness as he confessed to his crimes. His wife's forgiveness, one he did n't deserve. 
 
 He felt happiness, beyond anything before, as his son made his way back home one last time. 
 
 Then the feelings stopped. 
 
 With a tear in his eye, Raj realized, he was home.
