Prologue
Seven Minutes — Prologue
November 20, 2018 — 8:40 PM
A cold November night.
Dense fog had spread across the road as if it had wrapped the entire city in its white sheet. Nothing was visible clearly even a few meters ahead. There was little traffic on the road. Whatever vehicles passed by, their headlights made futile attempts to pierce the fog and then disappeared into it.
On that deserted road, a scooter was moving ahead at a slow speed. The young man riding the scooter kept wiping his eyes again and again. His attention was less on the road and more on the storm raging within him.
It wasn't that he didn't know the way... rather, at that moment, perhaps he didn't even care about his destination. There were tears in his eyes. Fatigue was written all over his face.
And in his heart, a burden so heavy... that it wasn't easy to express in words. Suddenly, a bright light coming from the front dazzled his eyes.
A truck was wobbling toward him. The young man immediately pulled his scooter to the side of the road.
"Maybe the driver has been drinking..." he thought to himself.
The truck passed by him. The young man breathed a sigh of relief.
But the very next moment... a speeding car emerged from behind the truck. The car tried to overtake the truck. The fog hid the distance between them.
By the time the car driver saw the scooter ahead... it was too late.
Crash! A loud collision occurred. The scooter fell several meters away. The young man skidded across the road.
A few seconds later, everything fell silent. The car disappeared into the darkness without stopping.
Gradually, people started gathering. "Hey... did anyone call an ambulance?"
"Hurry up!"
"Is he still breathing?"
Some people rushed to help him. Some stood at a distance, watching the spectacle. And some took out their phones from their pockets... recording a video seemed more important.
The young man's breaths were becoming labored. Each breath felt heavier than the last. He tried to speak... but no voice came out. For the first time, he realized... he could die. And at that very moment... the will to live became stronger than ever before.
If only... he could get one more chance. There were some things he wanted to make right. There were some people from whom he wanted to ask forgiveness. There were some promises that were still unfulfilled.
But time... waits for no one. His eyelids grew heavy. The sounds around him began to fade. People's faces disappeared into the haze.
Then... everything went dark.
---
No one knows how much time passed. When he opened his eyes again, he did not find himself on that same road. There was a strange silence all around. So deep that the sound of his own breaths could be heard clearly. In the distance ahead of him, a faint light appeared. The light was slowly moving toward him.
Or perhaps, within that light, someone was walking toward him. With each step, his form became clearer. Black garments, a massive body, a mace in hand, a crown on his head. On his face, neither anger nor mercy — just a strange, detached calmness.
He stopped in front of the young man.
The young man stared at him for a few moments.
Then, in a faint voice, he asked, "You... who are you?"
That person did not answer immediately. He simply looked into the young man's eyes. Then, in a calm voice, he said, "Amar..." "Your time is up."
Amar's throat went dry. "I... am I dead?"
After a few moments of silence, that person replied, "Not yet." "You stand between life and death."
Amar looked around in panic. "This... what place is this?"
This time too, the person standing in front remained silent for a few moments.
Then he spoke, "This is the place where every soul stops once before beginning its final journey."
Amar's heart began to beat rapidly.
Slowly, the accident started coming back to him. The truck... the car... the collision... and then... darkness.
He spoke in a trembling voice — "So... what happens to me now?"
For the first time, the person standing in front rested his mace on the ground. His voice was as calm as before. "That decision... is yet to be made."
Amar looked at that person for a few moments.
"Decision?" he asked in a low voice. "What kind of decision?"
The person standing in front was calm. In his eyes, there was neither harshness nor pity. It seemed as though he had heard this question countless times.
"The decision of your journey ahead."
"Will... I go to heaven or hell?"
A faint smile appeared on that person's face. "This is the first question every human asks after death."
Amar's breaths were still rapid. "So... do heaven and hell really exist?"
"Humans of every era have given words to death according to their understanding. Some called it heaven, some called it hell, some called it paradise, and some called it void."
After a pause, he continued,
"But don't worry about those things right now."
"First, it will be decided whether your journey ends here... or whether you are granted another life."
Amar's brows furrowed. "I don't understand."
The person standing in front rested his mace on the ground.
The white light spreading all around suddenly began to ripple gently.
"You have only seven minutes."
"Seven... minutes?"
"Yes."
"In these seven minutes, you will see your entire life again."
Amar was speechless.
"Entire life?" From birth to this accident. But, how can an entire life be seen in seven minutes?
"Time is the same for humans, Amar. Not for us."
That answer increased Amar's confusion even more.
He remained silent for a few moments.
Then suddenly, something came to his mind. Grandfather... his voice trembled. Grandmother... his eyes filled with tears. They would be left alone. He held his face in both hands. And he paused for a moment.
"Nirali" — with that name, his voice broke. I had promised her. He couldn't say anything further. There was only silence for a while.
The person standing in front kept looking at him. On his face, there was neither compassion nor harshness. Only calmness.
"What is left behind..." he said softly, "...is the greatest concern of every soul."
Amar lowered his head. "If only..." "If I could get just one more day." "I could fix so many things." "So many mistakes..." his voice choked.
"Every dying person thinks the same."
That person said in a calm voice. "But time..." "...never turns back."
For the first time, Amar looked directly into his eyes.
"Who are you?"
This time, that person replied. "Humans have given me different names." "Some called me the Messenger of Death..." "Some called me the Angel of Death..." "And some, simply the Guardian of Time." "The name doesn't matter." "My only task is one..." "...to escort you to the decision." Amar remained silent for a few moments.
Then he asked, "Will... you make my decision?"
"No."
"Then who will?"
"Your karma."
Amar looked at him in confusion.
Whatever a human chooses throughout their life, that very thing writes their final decision. I merely read it.
Hearing this, a strange fear arose in Amar's mind.
Was his life... truly that good? Had he ever hurt anyone? Had he ever made such a mistake... of which he wasn't even aware?
Countless questions began to arise in his mind.
Perhaps the person standing in front had understood his restlessness.
He raised his right hand. The white light spreading all around began to rotate slowly.
As if time itself had transformed into a vast chakra standing before them.
"Now..." his echoing voice spread all around. "See your story once again." "As it truly was." "Without any lies." "Without any excuses."
Amar looked at that rotating light. Slowly, images began to form within it. A small boy... holding his mother's finger, smiling. A home... where laughter once echoed.
And then... everything began to blur.
The Messenger's voice was heard one last time — "Seven minutes begin..." The light completely engulfed Amar within itself.
