“For how long are you going to make me wait here, dear lady?”, the Angel of Death sounded annoyed.
“How many times more should I knock at your door?”
“Do I not have other souls to collect, to return them to the Maker?” he grumbled, casting a glance at the Divine Orders in his hands.
“My scroll is long today,” he continued, “this being the sacred month of Ramadhan, the time of fasting, penitence and abstinence. I am already working overtime!”
Lying with my eyes closed, upon my comfortable airbed, I knew the appointed hour had come, and I weakly apologised to the Archangel, “Forgive me for delaying you; just a little while more.”
“I am indeed perplexed.” The Angel persisted, “Why would you want me to do this? She is not even your daughter!”
“What!” I was piqued. “Not even my daughter?” I retorted, not without a tinge of contempt. “Is that not all the more reason why I should wait till she is ready? Is that not the least I can do to repay all her deeds of ineffable kindness?”
“If she were my daughter, her service to me would fall within the purview of filial duty; but kindness without any obligation, or expectations, is that not just priceless? The undiluted care she gave me, when she did not have to, that is what compelled me to prostrate before my Lord, with a most extraordinary, audacious, and almost impertinent entreaty. “
Feigning resentment and restiveness, the Angel interrupted, “But let me admonish you, I cannot tarry here forever!”
“O Izrail, O benevolent Angel of Death, from the time she entered my family as my son’s wife, she has showered on me, love and compassion, as pure as a mother’s for her child. Not that you do not know, for, every atom’s weight of good deeds and bad, are recorded by the Angels. But my heart brims with gratitude whenever I recollect the warmth and tenderness with which she has treated me!”
“During my prolonged illness, her acts of feeding, caring, and cleaning me, including changing my diapers…will your own children do these without a grimace?”
“And all I want to ensure is that she has done her ‘ifithar’, broken her day-long fast, so hunger and weakness would not aggravate her agony of grieving; that is the least requital I can give her.”
“There, there, the sky is darkening; the earth is mercifully cooling down; the sun is on its marks, all set to set; the moment it goes down in the west, she will break her fast, with sherbet, and dark wrinkle skinned dates.”
“And today’s ‘maghrib’, sunset, will be my last…”
“Lady, I have no leisure to listen to your ramblings; she’d better hurry up, so that I can resume my celestial errands.”
“I now see her munching the fruit and sipping the juice. That will give her the energy to handle the sorrowful situation; for, when she comes to feed me, and finds that the milk has stopped in the tube, then she will realise that I am no more”.
The Angel of Death finally smiled genially at me and got ready to carry out his assignment.
“My infinite thanks to you, O gracious Angel! I am now at your disposal! I can already feel Heavenly Peace!”
Even as my mind was whispering words of praise and overwhelming gratitude to the Almighty, I could sense, though not see, her walking towards me, a cup in hand.