12:00 am .The crowds were aggressive as well as intimidating. Time and again I was elbowed, hogged through, bumped away and ass-held. Mainly by ladies from bollywood. She just rested her hand on my ass like you navigate a bicycle. I just ignored and flipped on a side.
I was pacing myself trying to find a loophole into the mosque. It was terribly late and the police closed all entrances. Like yesterday. I panicked again and about to lose my mind. Frustration was an understatement. Now the hopelessness has a new ingredient— anger.
Angry to the authorities for failing to protect my right to worship. A basic right as a Muslim being in this place. Looking at the crowd, the flow is heading to the new expansion again. Not good but I just followed as it was about time for the prayers. Before I stepped on the elevator, he started. I will miss this rakaat again like yesterday. But its okay the place was much better, clean and comfortable
The same thing happened we got stuck up there for a long time to clear the hallways below. It was almost three o’clock when I cleared the building and into the frenzy crowd. I needed to navigate a cross to Ajyad street; a gruelling battle not for the fainted hearts. At one point the flow was stopped blocked by the police to create bottleneck and slow down everyone’s pace. Not a good idea as it would ignite a stampede. They know better than that.
Nearly 40 mins later I was home and had something for sahur. Oats with dates and milk. An explosive ingredient for morning stomach that will burst all over later. I mean “ bbroosshhh” all over the toilet, the floor and my two layered clothes. It happened in the lobby’s toilet. Just in time. I felt the huge relief but at the same time gave a glimpse of how an old man look like that could not hold it in and burst in the street. I stared, afterwards, into my future possibilities. Who would come to clean me up and swallowed the embarrassment that this is his/her old man. I did. Once.
“Ayoh ambo la ni…..(this is my dad)” i told eveyone looking at my dad doing gardening outside the hospital ward without knowing where he was and why he was there. He suffered acute dementia as part and parcel of his long standing diabetes. I didnt feel embarrassed because he was my dad. In fact, that was my biggest and proudest moment of my life with dad. He died a few months later in Ramadhan. I love you ,dad. Maybe it doesn’t mean that much now but I wanted this testimony to be a witness here in Masjidil haraam as a remembrance of your passing.
