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I was apparently waiting for death to grab hold of my soul and leave my body lifeless. With no hope to be felt around, I was credulously smiling; I thought crying would be a better presentation of the deafening silence I could hear inside my heart, but it was too small an emotion to be outlaid. Crying because I knew death has reached my home was simply illogical for me; there was nothing left to cry for. The memory lane I could see now was filled with flowers of affection donated to me by sarcasm trying to cheer me before I could meet perpetuity. The beauty of this incommunicable warmth, I had received as compensation in lieu of an end to the process of experiencing verve, was fantastic enough to get me to smiling escorted by the filling of my eyes with a salty water I had no clue about.

I could in concord, see my past as though it was lived just a few hours back; it was all I had to relish; it was all I remembered of my life. I was very proud – I was to die very soon.

It was the valence week of the year 2004 which saw me learning what an incredible horror death could be. I had seen the demise of my beloved aunt, which even till the present date I can’t believe, and I had seen myself almost lying on the same bed from where the angel of death would take me away from my only physical possession and leave it as a carcass of a frail human.

I remember these days as my holidays just before I entered my professional education termed engineering. I was, in those days, reeling under the shock jolted on me by my aunt’s death, and I had seen a couple of nights filled with the presence of the angels of death around me.

My entrenched faith in my religion, Islam, says to me that dogs cry (bark) and asses bray in the night when they see the angels of death. And in one of those horrifying dead dark and cold nights of summer, at 3:00 in the morning, I heard the canines making these howling noises just to run shivers in every tip and corner of my body. I knew the angels were here; the angels of death. They had come to take someone with them. I wondered which house in my neighborhood was going to weep the next day; I wondered who was going to leave this world forever.

I was already in unbearable pity for that unfortunate family which was going to see itself becoming smaller. I somehow managed to sleep that night though it was in no way a good sleep. When the sun rose in the east the next morning, I was out to check for the news of an end of life in my neighborhood. I waited; it never came.

I was happy; we all were happy. But this happiness had discomfort in company. The angel was here and someone had to die and no one was gone yet. That lengthy day passed away staring at me in with it’s eyes wide open as though it knew the night I was about to see.

Then in that night there was a repetition of these hymns sung by the animals calling out aloud that the angels were here again. I knew they were here again and that they won’t be leaving empty handed this time. I was sure to see a dead body passing by my door the next day. But then suddenly, I was crippled. A seed of pain cracked up in my mind. I was said by this seed that the person supposed to leave could be from my own home too. God help me – I was in pieces. I didn’t slept after I heard it, and when the sun shined again, my face was swollen as I had cried all through the rest of the night just to beg my God to provide my parents and my brother with a more than 100 years of life. That whole day the mercilessly bright red sun had watched me crying tears of salty blood – each tear pleading God for a long life for my dearly loved ones.

The darkness arrived once again; this time with no hanging moon that would look like a dying lamp in the sky. I was waiting fog those beasts to come out of their dens to inform me again about the arrival of the angels, of death of course. And once more at 3:00 they cried about their arrival. I was not in my senses.

Someone had to leave, someone had to die. The only question with me was not who but when?

I had no desire to know who that person was but I was given the answer by my desecrated mad thinking. It was an answer that charred me to death when it reached my tympanum. The vibration in my mind said,”It’s you who is going to die”.

Me.

Yes me. Why can it not be me? I had prayed for others the previous day, I never did it for myself, so I was completely in agreement to that voice that I was going to die. I didn’t even then sense any foolishness in me as I was fed with an overdose of confidence that I was really going to leave this world.

There was no pain to be felt and no pleasure to be enjoyed anymore. Death, I thought, could never make me cry for I was programmed to believe that I must always be ready to meet it. And I was terribly in the correct understanding zone; I wasn’t crying. Crying then, was too small an emotion to be suffered.

All I could think was about the nice time I had with the people I had prayed for – the gatherings, the days we had seen in delight and cheer, the smiles and laughs of my dear ones. All this made me smile with wet eyes. I was happy, I was about to have a new beginning in another world promised to me by my Creator.

I was with great anticipation longing for that heavenly person to come and take me with him. I was longing for death. I knew it was somewhere here and I couldn’t even say that I had mislaid it for it was supposed to arise from the heavens.

It was a wait then. That person, the angel of death, would never come. It was tiring – more tiring than standing in the middle of the Sahara with a burning sun at the top and heat scratching the red skin. It was an unending story of delaying the start of eternity.

I spent two days with this pain. Even the next night was the same with howls of those damned animals. My vision was blinded by the pain and all I was made to see was a longing for death.

There was no future to think of. Only my remembrances of the past could make me smile.

I knew I was foolish. I was crazy to make myself believe in that ridiculous crap. I was out of my mind to think that I was going to die.

Something had to be done and it was done with no reason. Something in me said that I must ask for a change in my routine chore of being alone with my solitude. It was only after I left my house to live with my other relatives for a couple of days that I could get out of this terrific self-created illusion of a nearing death.

I, then later, for many days laughed at myself; and I was very much justified in doing that - I had fooled myself to death; I had been suffocating myself with self-deception.

But today, when I sit down and convert this silly experience into words, I realize what I had gained. I had a tryst with death; it was living with the feeling that I am going to die the very next moment even before I could breathe. It was nearly like experiencing death.

Now I am glad I had seen those days. Now I know what death can be - I call myself fortunate to know this. Though I was asinine then, I was unknowingly learning how the end of life might look.

I don’t know if I should say this but let me do it for the sake of expressing – “I have lived with death in my soul”.

Long live death. God knows when it should arrive. It is never a matter of concern for me but, but I fear death.