The India we grew up in from the pen of my friend Zeba Husain

Our namaz is one of the main tenets of my faith

The faith of my forefathers. But…

I was not always this regular…

..the constant reminders…

Arre khel rahi ho

Namaz parhi?

Me in my short frock

Quickly pulling on my parachute silk flowery gharara….and standing on the takht to pray

The dismantling of a winning card game…

Namaz ka waqt ho gaya

And more than that.

Babba my grandfather…the kindest most stable person in my life. ..

Beta namaz ki paabandi

Zaroori hay…

It was not a chore…

It was our alone time with our maker

We are gareeb sayyids he would say…

We have nothing to give our children

as inheritance except namaz .and..the love of ahle bait ..

If you love me…be regular in your prayers.

Somehow unlike these days of rigidity

and parents spouting religious texts to force children into their religion we were never told that…

It was all about love ….love and more love..

Look our maula prayed in teeron ki baarish..

We imagined hazrat ali akbar ki rozey aashura

azaan..

The namaz of maula…when he gave his ring to a beggar during namaz.

His last namaz in masjide kufa..

Bibi ki do rakat namaz to ask for guidance

When invited to the wedding at the neighbors house.

When she had only her abaya with seventy patches on it…

Bhabho would tell us…

Abba praying namaz

….

My nani ki namaz ,

My son’s head on her lap…

Book in his hand .

Razayi on her shoulders. She would pray

sitting on her jaanamaz…in winters ..

Bashir chacha.

Khana masjid se aaker khaaoonga

Always running late .rushing to the neighborhood masjid..

So namaz was my alone time with my Maker…

And also most importantly…it never fails to remind me of my loved ones who are no more…

I carry on the tradition…following in their footsteps.

But other religions…

Are also so dear to me…so close to my heart

Janmashtami i go around humming krishna bhajans.

I miss lajja bhabhie.

I miss Baby.

I miss those days.

I even miss lakhan…and the tray of prasad

All those wonderful people…our closeness

Our youth .our kids childhood .those scraped knees ..Tannu bhaiya spraying some medicine…bunny ki knee pe…arre Tannu bhaiyya ..ow ow ow…that hurts…

Gudiya. ..ashu

The songs …mayya mori

Main nahin maakhan khayo

The cheer in the air

The excitement

Mrs Khanna

Auntie

Your bhagwan…

But i too love him

And here …

When Bappa comes…

I go…

Hands folded.

He comes bearing gifts of love..

From my dearest Manju

My lovely Mangala

My friends….they are part of me…my heart overflows with love. .

I plan my modak making..

Even though i cannot see them hug them…

Their God whom they worship is coming my town…

I get ready to welcome him…

And Neena …

When the sikhs feed strangers. ..or help stranded people…

My heart swells with pride..

When the gurbani’s soothing strains float over the morning air. .

My head bows in respect..

Neena my friend …your voice is in my ears..

I bow before your Guru

When the weather changes and Durga puja comes..

I feel the excitement in the air..

I watch the beautiful arti

Hear the sound of the drums…

Sunandita…i miss you ..

But Maa is here.

She comes bearing blessings and messages of love .from my friend.

I hug you from afar

When the cathedral bells toll…

When carols are sung…

When a fb friends post shows a church or quotes from the bible.

I close my eyes…and read the lord’s prayer…

All through school ..we did this..

It is in our very blood…

Mary…Mother of Jesus…

My head bows of its own accord…

And temples …

The churches…

The gurudwaras

Mosques

And imambaras

All are abodes of our Maker

This is my country

This is my religion

I cannot survive without my friends

What they follow and believe…

Is also mine

This is who I am

At a school reunion in 2015 the batch of 1972, LA Martiniere Girls College meets again to create the same magic.