Chapter Four: The Man Who Wakes in the Last Few Minutes
Ghanim sat most of the time with a blank paper in front of him. He was not exactly amusing himself, and he was not writing; he was thinking that the thing was over, and that a man who has wasted the beginning of the time has no reason to start at the end of it. And that is the thought that ruins most papers: not the thought I shall not pass, but the thought it is too late. Then he lifted his head and looked at the clock, and found there was still something left in it. So he pulled the paper towards him and began.
The last few minutes
In the examinations of this world, when the bell rings the papers are drawn away even if the pen is in the middle of a word. No excuse is accepted, no weeping at the door is any use, and the invigilator has no power to grant one minute out of his own pocket; he is an employee carrying out instructions written for him, adding nothing to them and taking nothing away.
But in the greater hall the One who presides over it is the One who wrote the instructions, and His mercy takes in all things. In it is a door standing open in the wall that is not shut as long as there is life left, and written over it: turning back. Whoever goes in by it does not have his pen taken from him; he is given a new paper. The Prophet ﷺ said: “God stretches out His hand by night so that the one who did wrong by day may turn back to Him, and stretches out His hand by day so that the one who did wrong by night may turn back to Him — until the sun rises from where it sets.” (meaning; Sahih Muslim 2759 — Abu Musa al-Ashari, sound (sahih) — Muslim)
And the plainest word on this matter is a call in the revelation addressed to those who went to excess, not to those who did well; it forbids them despair before it commands them anything: “Say: O My slaves who have been prodigal to their own hurt! Despair not of the mercy of Allah, Who forgiveth all sins. Lo! He is the Forgiving, the Merciful.” (Az-Zumar 39:53, Pickthall)
A Man Who Thought His Door Was Shut
In Sahih Muslim there is a report about a man of the peoples before us who reached such a degree of crime that a man in his place does not think there is any way out. He asked the most learned man on earth, as the one who directed him supposed, and was given an answer of despair — and the answer only added to his crime. Then he asked a man of real knowledge, who shut no door in his face, but showed him the road and the land in which he could begin again. So he set out, and death overtook him halfway: “Among those before you was a man who had killed ninety-nine people. He asked for the most learned person on earth and was directed to a monk. He told him he had killed ninety-nine, and asked whether repentance was open to him. The monk said no — so he killed him too and completed a hundred. Then he asked again for the most learned person on earth and was directed to a scholar. He told him he had killed a hundred, and asked whether repentance was open to him. The scholar said: yes — and who could stand between you and repentance? Go to such and such a land, where there are people who worship God; worship God with them, and do not return to your own land, for it is a bad land. So he set out; and when he had covered half the road, death overtook him.” (meaning; Sahih Muslim 2766 — Abu Said al-Khudri, sound (sahih) — Muslim)
In this report there are two things worth stopping at that many of its readers pass over:
- The first: that the man who drove him to despair of mercy was the first to fall victim to his own driving; with him the number was made complete. A word that shuts the door is no light word, and nobody says it who knows the size of what he is shutting.
- The second: that the man was not given time to reach the good land and finish a work anyone could see; death overtook him on the road. And still his setting out was counted for him. What is reckoned is that he rose from his seat and turned, not that he arrived.
Yet this open door is not a door without a threshold. The reprieve that was wide enough for the killer of a hundred has a stated limit in the revelation: a turning back that is accepted from one who did evil and then turned back soon after, and a turning back that is of no use when death is present and the man sees with his own eyes what he used to deny: “Forgiveness is only incumbent on Allah toward those who do evil in ignorance (and) then turn quickly (in repentance) to Allah. These are they toward whom Allah relenteth. Allah is ever Knower, Wise. The forgiveness is not for those who do ill-deeds until, when death attendeth upon one of them, he saith: Lo! I repent now; nor yet for those who die while they are disbelievers. For such We have prepared a painful doom.” (An-Nisaa 4:17–18, Pickthall) So the mercy is wide and the time is narrow. These two do not contradict each other; they are two faces of one truth: that the door is open now, and that now does not last.
How a Man With Little Left Begins
The man who wakes late does not mend his paper by regretting the time that has gone; the regret itself eats into what is left. He begins from the question in front of him now. Perhaps the first thing he does is leave the land that used to tempt him into heedlessness, as that man was directed to a land other than his own; for place and company write on the paper from where its owner does not feel it. Then he writes one line, then the line after it. The greater hall does not call a man to account for the speed of his pen, but for keeping it moving.
None of this makes being late a small thing. The man who began at the start of the time is easier in himself and in less danger, and the man who waited for the last few minutes gambled with what he did not own; for nobody knows how much is left in his own hour. But the difference between a man with little left who writes and a man with little left who gives up is the difference between a paper with a line on it and a paper with nothing on it.
| The candidate | How he moved in the hall | What was on his paper when the bell rang |
|---|---|---|
| Salim | Divided the time and began at the start of it | Lines to the end of the page, and a checking over after them |
| Rashid | Did well for a long stretch, then slept on the last night | An answer that began well and ended in blank space |
| Waddah | Watched the invigilator and never read the question | Lines that were not his, and time gone in contriving |
| Ghanim | Woke with little time left and began | A hurried, honest hand, and a pen running to the last moment |
And these four are not four men so much as four states that one man turns between. You may wake in the morning as Salim and go to your bed as Rashid; an hour may pass over you in which you are Waddah, and then at the end of the night you see that you are Ghanim. The hall does not ask what state you were in halfway through the hour, but what state you were in when your paper was taken. As for the bell, it is not in your hand; as for the pen, it is.
When the papers are gathered in
A hand passes along the rows picking up the papers one by one, and the candidates get up and their voices run together at the door: one laughing, one silent, one asking his neighbour about the last question. And the hall that was everything a minute ago has become an empty room with the seats in rows.
And the records are folded up and not a letter is added to them, and the four go out of the smaller room into the greater one, and nothing keeps company with any of them but what he wrote. His family walk with him as far as the door and then turn back; his money stays in the room for whoever comes after him; and his deeds alone sit with him in the next seat.
- 1Read the instructions first, and divide the hours of your day over the most important of what you have been asked, before you write a letter.
- 2Pass a good intention over the permitted things of your day; eating, sleep and working for your family are written down as lines because of what stands behind them.
- 3Cut two words out of your tongue: enough and later; each of them lays the pen down out of your hand while you reckon it is still in it.
- 4Make your private self match your public one, give back today what was left in your trust, and weigh by one measure when you take and when you give.
- 5Go over your paper every night before it is drawn away, and measure yourself by the time you have left, not by the months that have gone.
- 6If you wake late, write one line now and do not spend what is left in regret; and shut no door in the face of anyone who wakes after you.
Four sat in one row and came out with four papers. Salim read the instructions and divided the time, kept to the set syllabus, passed an intention over the permitted things of his day so that they became lines, took the lodging of a stranger, and went over his paper before it was drawn away. Rashid did well the whole year through and then said: enough; he measured himself by what had gone and not by what was left, and slept with the bell close. Waddah measured the angles of heedlessness, and measured the Watcher by an invigilator who goes away, and spent his time waiting for tomorrow until a hand reached out for his paper. Ghanim believed that it was too late, then saw that there was something left in the clock and began; and the door is open as long as there is a breath left in a man, though it has a threshold. These are not four men so much as four states in one man; the bell is not in your hand, but the pen is.