Mosqueing it up

The inspiration for this title comes from a recent post by OneFemaleCanuck (a website I sorely missed over the last few weeks, that is until last night). Anyway, I have been going to the mosque almost regularly after my first few days in Doha. Infact, as I type this post, I am hoping to kill time till Fajr, which is the arabic name for the prayers at dawn.

[Let me just give you a basic overview of 'namaz' or prayer, just so I don't have to revert to brackets every few sentences. Muslims are supposed to pray five times a day; at dawn (fajr), then again when the sun is at its zenith (zuhr), when the sun is halfway between zenith and sunset (asr), at sunset (maghrib), and lastly, when the night has set in (isha). As you can probably tell, the times for prayer are different everday, just as the sun has different timings everyday. When it is time to pray, the muezzin (usually a junior to the mualvi) recites the call for prayer (azan) which is broadcast through loudspeakers for everyone in the neighbourhood to hear. Between that azan and the prayers starting, most people perform Wodhu, which is basically washing up and cleaning yourself. The actual prayers start twenty minutes later, and are led by the mualvi. The prayers that the mualvi leads are called Farz (as in, compulsory), after that everyone splits up and prays by themselves, those prayers with a few exceptions are called Sunnah. I think that should suffice as a good synopsis for now.]

There is something magical about the azan which attracts me. I have neglected my prayers for years now but its pretty hard to talk yourself out of praying when the mosque is just a hundred metres away from your doorstep and half that distance is covered by the elevator.

Seeing grown men run through the streets hoping to get to the mosque before the mualvi begins the prayers is amazing. What else do men run after with such dilligence five times a day? Businessmen leave their stores open and walk away to the mosque for a half hour, willing to sacrfise their livelihoods not to mention their cash registers. It used to surprise me as a kid, but now, as an adult, when I have seen how the world works, it astounds me. everything from bakeries, Air conditioning repair shops, grocery shops and resturants are left as soon as the azan sounds. No regard is given to anything else but God, their belief and their actions are not only surprising but spellbinding; I was in awe during my first few days as I watched this scene unfold from my third floor balcony.

Inside the mosque, its another scene of wonder. Men from all over.. Nepal, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Syria, Egypt, India, Saudia and now even Canada form neat rows to subjugate themselves to a higher power. Men that would have cursed each other for some reason or the other just moments before now shake hands with people they sit next to after prayer, genuine love for their brethren in their eyes.

An old man looked at me today with the most piercing glance I have ever felt, all he said was Assalaam-alaikum. Walaikum-asalaam my brother.

Age does not matter, height does not matter, the dress a person wears holds no bearing, a man's stature is of no consequence- here they are all muslims, subjects of Allah celebrating His glory.

Even after the prayers are over, men sit in the mosque reading the Quran, some out loud, some to themselves. Today, while praying the Sunnah, I caught a man falling to his knees in anguish, crying out loud for mercy, to a diety that exists only in his mind, let me reword that, he asked for forgiveness, wept in front of others to a concept- the mere concept of God. Even if looked upon with the most skeptical of eyes, the scene was enough to make you intake a sharp breath. People around him, ran to his 'aid', helped him to sit up and consoled him, Allah is merciful, all forgiving, all loving.

I must sound like a tool, especially to those who know me. But, I am awed by the scene that unfolds before me everyday almost five times a day. Sure, there is a monotony to it. And yes, sometimes it does seems fruitless, but the faith of everyone around you, even those that are doing much worse than you and I, is enough to make the most skeptical of people sit up and take notice.

postscript:
Today was the first day I prayed at Fajr since I got back to Doha. Fajr fell at 4:28 am today. I walked into to the mosque to a sight I wasn't prepared for. The place was as full as it is at Isha, which is probably the easiest prayer to attend since it falls after everyone is off work and before dinner (most people have dinner here around 9pm). I have forgotten so many things about Islam, but a word came to my mouth from the depths of my psyche, Subhanallah. In rough translation, it means glory be to Allah. I was surprised that so many people showed up, you could tell that it was taking a toll on some of them too. As I walked in, a man was sleeping by the door, he had woken up, washed himself (wodhu) and walked to the mosque only to sit down and doze off before the prayer began, trying to squeeze every inch of sleep out before his day began. Thats the difference for muslims, they don't look upon praying five times a day as a chore, its a part of life. It happens every day for the entirety of your life, and after a few weeks of the routine, you get used to it; It doesn't seem that arduous a task. A lot of people make Islam out to be this tradition ridden religion in which everything has to be done properly, but that guy who slept for 2 minutes before the prayers probably doesn't see it that way. After all, he did show up and probably does every day.