THERE was once a good man. He had spent his whole life in cultivating the qualities enjoined upon those who would reach Paradise. He gave freely to the poor, he loved his fellow creatures and he served them. Remembering the need to have patience, he endured great and unexpected hardships, often for the sake of others.
He made journeys in search of knowledge. His humility and exemplary behaviour were such that his repute as a wise man and good citizen resounded from the East to the West, and from the North to the South.
All these qualities he did indeed exercise—whenever he remembered to do so. But he had one shortcoming, and that was heedlessness. This tendency was not strong in him, and he considered that, balanced against the other things which he did practise, it could only be regarded as a small fault. There were some poor people whom he did not help, because from time to time he was insensitive to their needs. Love and service, too, were sometimes forgotten when what he thought to be personal needs, or at least desires, welled up in him.
He was fond of sleep; and sometimes when he was asleep, opportunities to seek knowledge, or to understand it, or to practise real humility, or to add to the sum total of good behaviour—such opportunities passed by, and they did not return. Just as the good qualities left their impress upon his essential self, so did the characteristic of heedlessness.
And then he died. Finding himself beyond this life, and making
his way towards the doors of the Walled Garden, the man paused,
to examine his conscience. And he felt that his opportunity of
entering the High Portals was enough.
The gates, he saw, were shut; and then a voice addressed him,
saying: ‘Be watchful; for the gates will open only once in every
hundred years.’ He settled down to wait, excited at the prospect.
But, deprived of chances to exercise virtues towards mankind, he
found that his capacity of attention was not enough for him.
After watching for what seemed like an age, his head nodded in sleep.
For an instant his eyelids closed. And in that infinitesimal moment
the gates yawned open. Before his eyes were fully open again, they
closed: with a roar loud enough to wake the dead.