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I passed away today in the early morning hours.
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>My alarm clock buzzed at my regular waking up time of 5.30am. I couldn't shut
the alarm, so my wife got up and grumbled her way to my bedside and switched off
the irritating ring. "He sets the alarm and expects others to switch it off,"
she grumbled and went off to sleep again. I wondered why she couldn't guess that
I might be dead! Perhaps, it is taken for granted that those who go to sleep
will always wake up.
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>I guess it was about 5.40am when I heard the serene call of the Moazzan. It
seemed so near and awesome. I wanted to get up and say my morning prayers. But
alas, my physical self refused to cooperate! I lay there with my thoughts
wandering through the corridors of time that I had lived. I regretted the
morning prayers that I had missed during my lifetime. I recalled with extreme
joy and fondness my childhood years, my zestful youth and mellowing middle age.
They seemed so short and remote. I wished them all over again with the same
excitement, joy and happiness but devoid of the sorrow and misery.
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>I falsely imagined my childhood in the company of my caring and loving mother
and my middle age in the service of my selfless father. I deceptively visualized
myself as the most obedient and outstanding student in my school, college and
university. I imagined myself as the most righteous, pious and religious in the
whole congregation at the mosque. I even attempted to see myself different from
reality. Even after death, I was seeking to deceive myself.
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>I quickly reminded myself that death had inducted me into eternal life and now
I could never go back to worldly life. On the canvas of death, my life story
went on endlessly. I got so engrossed that I lost touch with time. It was almost
a quarter to seven and my wife was still in bed. I couldn't wake her up and so I
waited, impatiently. I was also worried that my son would be late for school.
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>Finally, at 7am, my wife woke up with a start and rushed into the kitchen to
prepare breakfast for my son. Passing by my side of the bed, I heard her faintly
say to herself, "He must be very tired. I'll wake him up after 15 minutes." I
waited for the fifteen long minutes before I was finally discovered dead by my
wife.
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>In a short while, all the family members had gathered - some of them were
crying openly while others were busy offering sympathy and consolation. I, for
my part, was pleased to see the speedy arrangements being made to carry me to my
eternal home. The heart-splitting wailing made me sick. In order to relieve
myself from the devastatingly depressive atmosphere, I opened the flood gates to
the oceans of my memory. I started to recall all my friends who cared for me and
loved me. I captured the scenes of my school, college and university activities.
Those were such lovely times. I remembered the music I liked. I recounted all my
girlfriends. I fell into deep remorse and regret - I couldn't thank my family
for their unbounded love, my friends for their commitment, my tutors for their
generosity in imparting me knowledge, my colleagues for their unflinching faith
in my abilities, my beloved for making my life meaningful, and above all, my
wife who so dutifully loved me and served me well.
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>I was jolted from my grief by a few people who were carrying me for the final
ritual bath. I was left alone in the company of the giver of the bath whose
presence I least enjoyed for he seemed so insensitive to my state. He purified
my physical self but alas, my eternal soul remained stained! I wished for holy
detergents that could purify and clean my tainted soul as well.
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>I was properly dried and thence enveloped in the spotless white shroud.
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>I was laid in the middle of the room. Soon, I was to be taken away and
everybody lined up to take a last look. I recognized each one of them - family,
relatives and friends, as they walked past, sobbing and with tearful eyes. Lo
and behold! My God, here comes my father! I wish he had not been informed. I
want to turn away from him as I cannot bring myself to see him grieving over me.
I pray that he bears my passing away with courage.
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>My wife was goaded to take the last glimpse. She took a deep sigh and moved
towards me. She wept by my side. Her pure tears, contaminated by the mascara
which she had applied for last night's dinner and had not washed it off, fell
like a deluge, tearing through the white shroud and flooding me with feelings of
immense sorrow and grief.
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>I can't understand why relatives made it so difficult for her, why are they
punished her to go through the 'final glimpse' which would haunt her throughout
her life. I wanted to tell them to spare her. But no, they wouldn't!
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>The hour finally arrived for me to leave the house. I was placed in a casket.
As soon as the casket was lifted, more wailing reached my ears. I found it most
comical that all those present did not want me to meet my Maker - hadn't they
all read, "To Him we belong and to Him we return."
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>I was carried in a hearse van to the mosque where I played when I was a child,
for my funeral prayers. Afterwards, I was taken to a graveyard not too far away.
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>The grave-diggers gave final touches to my new dwelling - they did a good job.
My casket was brought near the grave. As I waited to be buried, I overheard with
amusement the conversation between two mourners discussing selling their homes
and buying new ones in more posh and sophisticated surroundings.
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>While the alive socialized, I looked around to get a good look at my permanent
neighbourhood.
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>The pit was cleansed by sprinkling rose and jasmine water and finally, my final
resting place was ready to welcome my physical remains.
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>I am now restless. I want to be in my grave as I hope that death will allow me
to break the barriers of time and space and I can reunite with my mother and
sister. Finally, I am lowered into the cavity and a few stone slabs are placed
on the mouth of my grave. It becomes dark and cold. The grave-diggers usher
everybody to join hands to ensure "...dust to dust."
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>I can hear faint recitation from the Holy Book, followed by supplications
invoking blessings of the Almighty. Then, I hear retreating footsteps. I feel
lonely. I am overwhelmed with grief. I lie in wait.
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