Forty Steps

K. Anis Ahmed Forty Steps Mr. Shikdar, having died the previous evening, was now lying six feet below ground. He was not sure of his death, but those who had buried him were absolutely certain. As he lay there, swathed in a white shroud, there was little left for him to do except wait for the angels Munkar and Nakir. He recalled having set out for Molla's, but his memories of the time and incidents after that were unclear. And, though he could not remember his burial, this was the progression he imagined for the events leading to his current predicament: when he lost consciousness he was standing on a mud aisle in the middle of the rice fields (but this picture could have been retained in his mind from one of his many earlier visits to Molla). Whoever found him—a harried clerk returning home for the weekend or maybe a band of panchewing farmers on their way to see the village opera—must have thought he was dead. Evidently they hadn't bothered to consult a doctor, otherwise would he be lying here now? The rituals of the last ablutions and special prayers were performed under the careful ministrations of Yaqub Molla. They dug a hole with rusty shovels, while he lay there exuding the sweetly nauseating smell of camphor. Some of them sized bamboo branches to the width of the hole, while others prepared to lower him. Had his eyes been open, he would have seen the rectangular slice of sky overhead blocked off bit by bit by the bamboo branches that were slowly placed across the opening of his grave to form a slanting roof. Had his eyes been open, he would have been able to prevent this terrible mistake. He wasn't entirely sure if his interment had happened prematurely. Was this a dream perhaps? Maybe his wife would wake him up any minute and tell him that he was having a nightmare. Did one have such vividness of sensation or lucidity of thought in one's dreams? If he had actually died, there was only one way of verifying it now—by counting the steps. Forty steps. Or so he had been told by Molla, who had read all seven versions of the Qu'ran that were known to exist. He had also read all the Hadiths and even some of the less respectable religious literature. Contradictory information garnered from his readings had convinced Yaqub Molla of the following fact: All muslims are visited in their grave by the two interrogating angels, Munkar and Nakir. One chronicles all the good deeds that the deceased might have performed. And the other all the bad ones. Yaqub Molla had also discovered, mostly from evidence culled 8 the minnesota review from medieval texts, that Munkar and Nakir arrived as soon as the last of the mourners went as far as forty steps from the grave. Mr. Shikdar had been much intrigued by the alleged behavior of the angels. Why was the number forty so significant? Didn't the arrival of the angels ever coincide with the thirty-ninth step? How could they manage to be so precise with so many people dying all the time? From the muted collision of rubber soles against damp earth, Mr. Shikdar could tell that his mourners were walking away from his grave. The reverberation caused by a procession of rubber-soled feet was followed by the clattering of a solitary pair of khadams. Mr. Shikdar concentrated on that lonesome pair of wooden footwear for it presumably belonged to the last of his mourners. He counted the steps taken by the khadams: nine, ten, eleven... On the day he died, Mr. Shikdar was awakened by a fluttering in his chest. These days waking up was not necessarily a pleasant experience for him. He rubbed his chest with the side of his palm in steady circular motions. He did notsit up until he was able to breathe regularly. He shaved standing in front of his bedroom window. It overlooked the Bararasta, which was the only concrete road in Jamshedpur. The rest were gravel or mud paths. It was a Tuesday, and on...