It has not yet been a fortnight since Ramadan ended but I am missing it already. Of course, the month is unsurpassed in terms of its atmosphere, its spirit, and its opportunities. The larger blessings of the fasting month are too well-known to need a mention. But even the small things about the season tend to make one nostalgic as soon as it passes: the dates, fruit chaats, the Bringal pakoras, the dahi bhallas… For some mysterious reason, these (and other) things just do not taste the same during any other part of the year.
Also, the little things at the mosque feel very different in Ramadan. For example, the ruckus raised by some irate – albeit well-meaning and rather cute – senior citizen who is offended by someone (in his view) transgressing on his (or somebody else’s) prayer space. Of course, such incidents can occur around the year; but, what with the heightened sense of duty and piety engendered by Ramadan, no fasting season is quite complete without them. I do not know about others, but I tend to take such things in a much more charitable and philanthropic spirit during Ramadan than otherwise.
During the Taraweeh (as opposed to the mandatory prayers) I have this habit of having a Quran open in front of me while the Qari recites its verses. (Lately the mobile phone has taken the place of the mushaf.) It makes for improved understanding on my part since I feel I can concentrate much more than if I were only listening. I make it a point to stand on the extreme left or right of a row so that I can use a window sill to place the phone during the other parts of the prayer. Many people are puzzled by this practice; and some are inquisitive enough to ask, usually in a very civil and polite manner. But there are exceptions; for example, one day a youngster kept motioning to me after every two raka’at to close the gap between him and me (the gap had opened up on account of some worshippers having left after praying eight raka’at) – an instruction I could not comply with on account of my window-sill constraint. The young man looked none-too-pleased. What was interesting was that each time after motioning me to come closer, he proceeded to continue resting till the Qari finished the recitation and proceeded to the ruku, at which point he hurried to get up on his feet and join the prayer. Somehow, in Ramadan even things like this are not without a certain amount of charm; such is the spirit of the fasting month.
This year, there were one or two firsts too. One day, near the end of the month, smack in the middle of the fifth or sixth rak’ah of Taraweeh, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I attributed it to somebody having accidentally bumped into me. Soon however, I felt the tap again, and this time there was no doubt that my urgent attention was required. Alarmed, I turned my head to see a man pointing to a chair placed in the previous row and asking if he could take it. I nodded my head and resumed my prayer, thinking that the whole thing was rather odd, because given the distance there was no way anybody could have imagined I was using the chair. Little did I know that I will soon be forced to change my opinion about the man for the better.
Also, the little things at the mosque feel very different in Ramadan. For example, the ruckus raised by some irate – albeit well-meaning and rather cute – senior citizen who is offended by someone (in his view) transgressing on his (or somebody else’s) prayer space.
For the very next day I was told what had happened, apparently at almost exactly the same time, in another mosque. The incident, which featured an old lady (a relative), in comparison shed a very favourable light on my own chair-incident. For, however strange the circumstances, the man had at least made it a point to ask my permission before taking the chair. The poor old lady had sadly not been extended that courtesy. She had been using a chair for ruku and sujood; but while she stood in qayaam, another lady had thought it fit to remove it from behind her without any warning whatsoever; so that (under the impression that the chair was still where she had left it some moments ago) she collapsed on the floor with a thud. Thankfully, the scans showed that she had suffered no serious damage.
One day, when I happened to be in a different part of the town, I prayed my Taraweeh in the local mosque there. On my immediate right was a lad of barely twenty, who, without any ado, pointed to my trousers and asked me to pull them up, to a level above my ankles. He did not know me from Adam, and for all he knew that may have been my first day at any mosque. I could not help thinking that even if (for the sake of argument) it is granted that the trousers-above-ankles is a religious injunction (a big if, to say the least), that kind of behaviour was probably the exact opposite of the prudence the Quran enjoins on individuals who take it upon themselves to serve and communicate Islam. I ignored the lad (of course), but such is the spirit of Ramadan that I remember being rather amused, and not irritated as I might have been on other occasions.
One day, our Qari lost track of the count of Taraweeh rak’ah, the result being that we prayed two raka’at more than usual. The whispers around the mosque suggested that many were not too happy with the ‘lapse’. Especially inconsolable was an elderly man who kept registering his protest till after the witr prayer. The same uncompromising (although I am sure well-intentioned) spirit was at play when a meticulous and conscientious worshipper objected to the Assistant-Imam’s pronouncement of the iqamah for Asr prayer on ‘grounds’ that the latter was not properly aligned with the other worshippers in the first row. Imam sahab had to assure him that that was quite all right. I used to believe that I had heard the whole gamut of objections on other people’s religious practices. How wrong I was! Well, one learns every day.
In our local mosque there is provision for ladies to attend the Taraweeh prayer in the basement. On the third night just after the Isha prayer, Imam sahab hesitantly announced that there were complaints about some women who kept talking to each other at the back instead of joining others in prayer, which distracted the other ladies. Imam sahab politely asked the concerned ladies to desist; but with the air of a man who knows that that is easier said than done. On the gents’ floor, I saw many an amused face upon hearing the appeal. Yet another precious memory of last Ramadan!
Au revoir, Ramadan!
