12:07 pm I didn’t care whether I am late or not. Today will be the day. Everyone will be here. We will share space,food and drink; every little bit come on our way. By now we generally know how to match a face with the behaviour or character so we compromise. Every single group of these people have been colonised, oppressed and socially disturbed in one way or another. We all have the same denominator in an equation created in the past. Somehow the language of humanity was spoken beneath the mother tongue. We understood each other pretty good.
Ironically, the oppressors of the past were not in great number here almost none.
Many incidents today have given me a better outlook of life. While waiting in a good spot a family stopped by and looked around to sit. I immediately stood up and offered the place to the ladies. I didn’t have to but I could find another place with no problem. They took it as a surprise and was so glad to have the place. As I was leaving, they called me back and gave a box of maamol. Now I was surprised to be offered the whole box of it…..
“Kullu……”I said unsurely. Usually I would be offered just a piece or two during iftar. Never the whole box. I thanked them and was on my way. I gave most them away during iftar. It was such delicious maamol. Not really a good story to tell nothing exciting but somehow it’s important to me.
I felt “ light” tonight. Handed out some maamol was fun. Some Indonesians also gave away iftar packs as well. The food was plenty all of the sudden. Then collected the garbage so the Bangla boys can just put the whole pack in his big green garbage bag. Everyone was pleased to have the place cleaned up for solat Maghrib. Otherwise the garbage would be there right through the Isya prayers.
Met an army officer from Pakistan working in Mecca. He has been here since four months ago. A supporter of Imran Khan(?!) , I doubt it as an army officer must support the go ernment. Just played along for the sake of good company. Indeed, he was. With little English he expressed himself well; not British-educated type but okay. We understood each other. When I was leaving after teraweeh, he was so disappointed and persuaded me to stay on. My little friend needed to go so we must go, sorry dude.
The way out was okay but I saw people was waiting to enter like their life depend on it. In Malaysia that would be Raya sale(rm1 baju melayu sounds awesomely insane). I knew this is one way out , I could not possibly walk back in later for solat tahajjud. Solat tahajjud was held at 12:30 am.
Tonight’s the night believed to be the most revered night of this whole month. Although the prophet did not specify exactly which night this people believe it is the night of 27th Ramadhan. As any other night here in Masjidil Haraam, the atmosphere was highly charged. I followed the late crowd and ended nowhere; milling around an openspace near Marwah. Sat down in a junction only to be yelled at a few minutes later.
“Haji! Haji! Tariq! Tariq!…..” I stared at him with anger. He pushed me to move. The prayer has started and I could not find my spot yet. We walked to the end of the field only to be told to go to the other way. There is no space that way. It was like a lorong in pasar malam— dark, dirty and full of people. I turned around and found a little space near the garbage dump. Uurgghh reluctantly I laid down my clean sejadah on a wet and dirty floor by the dumpster. After the first prayer we were told off again. I held one officer , looked up to his face and spoke slowly so for him to understand me well,
“Where to go? There is no more space else where!”. He pointed that way, the dark alley to the back of the field. Pointless to argue, I followed. Imam was already in the second prayer. A few rows in to the crowd I found a clean clear space to use. Just enough for myself to be out of the way. A few minutes later another man stopped and tried to fit in. Nope! The officer came and told him off. I grabbed his arm and signalled him to stay. But he has no luck he was told off again. So there I was for the rest of the morning with the grand Imam Sudais under the dark sky prayed and prayed for humanity.
I cried continuously, everyone did. There is no shame on what I did and no exaggeration on me telling you right now. It just happened. The magic just overwhelmed. I was way outside the mosque but the recitation and doa vibrated through my body like an electrical shock. It was not hypnotised because I was concsious all the time. But something did happened.
The doa was electrifying; long and elaborated. I was immensely taken in words after words and the tears just flow down making my face mask wet. And then….the words like this blurted out ….
“…. Almalik Sxxxx….. sihat wal afiat….. Moxxxxx bin Sxxxx….. bla bla…..”
It just killed the mood. I dont speak the language but I do recognise those names. Why bring in your royal household into this ?? I stopped. No need for Cry Argentina! Thats the end of my prayers. I didn’t need this politics to lace my 27th night of Ramadhan.
TaqobalAlllah! TaqobalAllah! I greeted my neighbors after solat and off I went away.
