Tales From Friday Prayers

It was another Friday. I’ve written about Fridays rather generously. The feeling of being part of the numerous people who turn up to the masjid on that day is simply different. I wouldn’t say it’s exhilarating, rather it's about the calm that descends. There is the singular voice of the Imam reverberating through the hall. There is the unity that comes when the countless voices blend in one perfect voice. Then there’s a moment of silence before the voice of the Imam fills the room again. To be honest, it's beyond the bliss that music has ever given me.

Mosques are usually full on Fridays. Fridays are the day when many people drop whatever they are doing and make their way into the mosques almost at the same time. People pour in from different walks of life. The emotions and peoples and more. There are the people whose lives have cemented a frown on their faces. You see them almost every day in the mosque, perhaps even in the same corner. You wonder how their lives have been. You wonder what their moment of happiness will be. You wonder if you could make a difference in their lives, get them to smile for a split second. You think about how it is to live those lives. 

Then there are the happy people. They may be the people who spend their Fridays in service of the mosque. They seem happy helping around. They are the people who help keep the mosque running. They get donations for the madrasa that exist along with the mosque. They make food for the Imam, they help conduct the iftar during Ramadan. They mobilize the finances to keep the place going, to repair the old infrastructure, and rebuild the mosque to meet the increasing space requirements the subsequent Fridays will hopefully demand of the masjid. You wonder how they make their living beyond the masjid. You wonder how they keep going with the small amounts of money they are gifted by the people for their services. You wonder if they even make enough to take their father to the hospital or to enrol their child in the school. Money is important. Many people say money can't buy happiness. But the lack of it can certainly deny happiness. 

Of course, it's different with different places. Chalukulam is different from the one I went to when I was in school, and from mosque I go from college. People at Chalukulam seem happier. It's mostly the happiness of meeting other people who they've grown up with. Perhaps on these Fridays, they relive the time when they used to be kids, the times when Chalukulam used handwoven mats on the floor rather than the plush carpets they now use. Perhaps it's that moment of relief from the rush of trying to make ends meet for their families. Vappa was like that. Fridays were also a time to meet the people from his life before he left the place for a better life, he left for the perceived dreamland in the Arabian Gulf. The one that brought hot water and liquid gas to his house. 

People educate you. Passively and Actively. Perhaps that's one of the things mosques teach you. They show you all kinds of people. You see a lot of people, you wonder about their battles. Then it helps you in your battles, not by downplaying them, but by giving that strength to your spirit. To run that last mile.