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.