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  • It just happened.

    I was just lying there, thinking my usual “How nice it would be to be dead than living in this hell” thoughts. Yeah, I tend to do that, I confess.

    The odd thing is, I never thought of what would happen AFTER I got my wish; what happens after you die?
    Are you whisked away to some strange utopia or just lie there, feeling your body rot away under you or over you perhaps?

    Islam, the religion I follow, says you just wait in “Barzakh”, or limbo, for the angel to come with pre-set questions that you have to answer. Your deeds in this world determine how you are treated in your grave and afterlife.

    I have never been afraid of death. Once, when the taxi I was travelling in got hit by another car, my only reaction was the automatic reflexes of my body kicking in, my mind was calm and distant, indifferent to what was happening; there was no fear.

    That night, for the first time, I felt a strange shudder of fear as I thought about the time of my death. It was strange. I can still feel the goose bumps rise as I type this. I had so many questions but very few answers. Imagining this life, these joys and sorrows being stripped away from me, my skills, my abilities and limitations, everything seemed so small, so insignificant. What would happen?

    Would anyone even remember me? What would people’s last memory of me be? What would they say about me as they sit around waiting for me to be buried?

    That night, I wondered. Am I ready to be questioned for my deeds?

    I haven’t thought of death as a welcome relief since that night because I fear it now. I wonder if that is an improvement over my previous state of being or is it worse?
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