CROSS ROADS
I had only slept for around two hours after finishing Tahajjud prayers when exactly at quarter to five in the morning, like every day this Ramzan, my mother knocked thrice on the door while shouting, “Daniyal, wake up quickly. It is time for Sehri”.
With some effort, I moved myself out of bed, looked for my phone and slowly stood up, transporting myself to the bathroom. A few quick splashes of cold water on my face, after which I rinsed my mouth, and I was reasonably awake. I strolled towards the kitchen where my mother was already busy making parathas, and my sister, Shafiya, along with Nasir, our domestic help, was warming up the food from last evening. My father was sleeping as he did not fast because of having diabetes and a heart condition.
I proceeded to sit on the floor against the wall with a cushion against my back for some extra comfort and started scrolling my Facebook feed, which showed updates of a looming war in Iran, cross-border firing between Pakistan and Afghanistan and again a few deaths in Palestine.
In short, the usual stuff.
Once the food was warmed up and the fresh parathas were ready, everything was laid out on the dastarkhwān, and we started eating. My mother had a habit of force-feeding me during Sehri, perhaps because I was the youngest, which meant that I had to finish at least four parathas with the spinach and meat from the previous evening. We finished our meal and subsequently relished a hot cup of Nun chai. After a few sips, I took the rest of my Nun chai to my room to finish it off with a cigarette. Even this early in the morning, there is nothing like having a cigarette after a heavy meal along with a hot cup of tea.
Subsequently, when I heard the first recitation of Azaan, which went on for quite some time as different Maslak had different timings of prayers and sometimes Azaan would be recited for almost 20 to 30 minutes depending on how many Mosques of different Maslak were in the neighbourhood, I performed Wudu and offered Fajr prayers, before going to bed again.
While it always takes me some time to fall asleep again after Sehri, I try to get a few hours of sleep before I must wake up again and go to the office in the morning.
At the office, a branch of a well-reputed bank near Kashmir University in Srinagar, I worked together with Asif, my paternal cousin and best friend.
We would get the opportunity to offer prayers during office hours, and, as always, before going for prayers, I would never forget to remind Asif to join me, but he never would. While Asif would always fast during Ramzan, he would not offer prayers. In normal days, I would also not offer prayers, except for Fridays, but during Ramzan, I would make sure not to miss a single prayer.
Asif was a bit different regarding issues of Namaz. He always had been.
During this holy month, the office would close around 4:30 PM to ensure that everyone could be home in time for Iftar. Today, we finished a bit earlier, around quarter past 4, and I invited Asif home to break the fast together. As there was still ample of time and the weather was pleasant, Asif suggested walking home instead of taking an auto-rickshaw.
With an auto, it would usually take around 15 minutes to reach my home in Sir Syed Colony, Zakura and I gathered that walking at a leisurely pace would not take us longer than an hour or so. We took off on Hazratbal Road and walked towards Naseem Bagh. When we were just passing Hazratbal Mosque, I asked Asif why he had suggested to walk today. I found it a bit strange, as walking for an hour while fasting could turn out to be quite exhausting.
He instantly replied, “Come on. I am fasting. A good walk will only help me detox more”.
I knew that Asif had a bit of a contrasting, almost provocative, view on fasting, however as we had some time, I decided to ask him about it. “Asif, Ramzan is not for detox, it is a holy month. What you are doing is not fasting to fulfil your religious duty. You are just not eating and drinking”.
Asif started laughing heartily and said, “Exactly. Detox, yaar”.
I persisted. “Why Asif? You also don’t pray. You don’t even offer the regular five prayers, let alone Tarawih, Witr and Tahajjud. At least during Ramzan, you should offer prayers”.
“Why? Why only during Ramzan? Is God on a holiday the rest of the year? Does He only pay attention during Ramzan? You are not making sense”, Asif replied.
“Come on, Boya. Now you are not making any sense”, I said. “This is a holy month”, I continued. “Why do you fast then during this month if you don’t pray? You should then also not fast”.
“Maybe”, Asif said. “Look, I fast during this month because of social pretension. Everyone is fasting, and if I don’t, I will be the odd one out. At home, in the office, with friends, family, acquaintances. In the whole society. That’s why. Everyone is fasting, so I fast as well. If nothing, it will help me detox. I smoke less, eat less, walk more. It is good for me. However, I don’t pretend to fast for any other reason. My intentions are very clear. To myself and to Allah. You cannot sit on the throne of Allah. Let Him decide whether my fasts are accepted or not”.
He continued, “But I refuse to be a part-time Muslim like you. Normally, you don’t pray. Perhaps only on Friday, and I have seen you missing Fridays as well whenever you go on a quick lunch date with Sabah. You plan those dates with her on Friday because that’s when you get time off from the office to go for prayers, and there is less chance of someone seeing you with her during Friday prayers, as everyone is in the Mosque. You smoke two packs of cigarettes a day, and whenever we go to Pahalgam with friends during the summers or Gulmarg when it is snowing, you don’t shy away from at least six beers on an evening, after which you compel us all to dance to the latest item songs of Nora Fatehi and Tamanna Bhatia. And during Ramzan, you replace both ladies for exactly 29 or 30 days, with Tariq Jameel and Zakir Naik”.
His voice became a bit sterner, “While ostensibly being committed to Sabah, you keep looking for hookups on Snapchat and Facebook. You don’t even remember the timings and different names of Namaz, but during Ramzan, you suddenly become the staunchest Muslim by not only praying five times a day, but also Tarawih, Witr and Tahajjud. The last two Ramazans, you even observed I’tikāf. As if Allah is only listening during Ramzan and uses noise-cancelling headphones the rest of the months!”
I listened to Asif in silence.
He was being stupid.
Asif went further. “Indeed, I fast to detox. I fast because of societal norms. You could even say that I only fast out of respect for this holy month. But what I don’t do, is deceive. You deceive! Not only yourself and society, but you also try to deceive Allah. You think that He doesn’t know what you and all the other part-time Muslims do before and after Ramzan. As if He doesn’t know what is in your heart”.
“So, Asif what you mean is that instead of trying to become a good Muslim during Ramzan, it is better to be a bad Muslim the whole year. Is that what you mean? We all should be bad Muslims the whole year and not even try to become good Muslims during Ramzan? That is the stupidest argument I have ever heard”, I replied.
“And what exactly stops you and all other part-time Muslims from trying to be good Muslims throughout the year? Shouldn’t Ramzan teach you self-discipline and make you a practising good Muslim throughout the year?”, Asif said.
“Why only during Ramzan? Either you think Allah isn’t watching the other 11 months or you are portraying to the other part-time Muslims how good of a Muslim you are. Look, I don’t mind you trying to be a good Muslim. My only question is, why only during one month of the year? As soon as Ramzan is finished, you become yourself again. During Ramzan, you try to become someone else. I am me. The whole year. As Allah made me. I don’t change during Ramzan to deceive Him or to show off to society. And that’s why I am spiritually closer to Him than you can ever be”.
I kept listening and thought that while he had a few points here and there, he wasn’t right.
But he wasn’t wrong as well.
“And to be honest”, he interrupted my thoughts before I could translate them into words, “What exactly is your achievement during Ramzan? Shaitan is imprisoned during Ramzan. And that’s exactly when you try to become a good Muslim, ha? So, in your case, piety is not a virtue, rather, it is a lack of opportunity! Bravo, Boya. You are a good Muslim when Allah has caged the Devil. But when he is roaming around free, who cares!”
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Once Ramzan is over, Shaitan is unchained. But part-time Muslims like you wait for the end of Ramzan with even more excitement than Shaitan as that’s when you can celebrate your freedom and return to being yourself again”, he said.
Asif said his last few sentences with such animation while rolling his eyes and shaking his head, that I was in splits. I couldn’t control my laughter, and while trying to catch my breath, I answered, “Asif, this doesn’t mean that what you do is right”.
Asif responded with a sharp quip, “Who said what I do is right? Let Allah decide that. I might be wrong the whole year. You try to appear right the whole year by being wrong one month!”
I again burst into laughter, and while I really wanted to say something, I decided not to respond this time as we were approaching the half-opened gate of my home, and I could see Shafiya walking towards us.
We sat on the floor next to the kitchen, and when Mama asked why we were so late, I realised that we had taken our saunter home a bit too easily, as instead of an hour, it had taken us over one and a half hour and only 30 minutes were left until Iftar.
Shafiya turned on the TV and searched for the specific prayer for the tenth day of Ramzan on YouTube. After scrolling a bit, she found it, skipped Policybazaar’s ad and increased the volume to such an extent that one could hear it at the other end of the street.
Asif looked at me with a smirk on his face and whispered cautiously, “My goodness, Daniyal. Look at Shafiya. Normally, she plays the newest Bollywood songs on this TV and today, it’s a video of Ramzan prayers while having her scarf tightly wrapped around her head. Masha’Allah!”
I controlled my amusement and lightly tapped Asif on his knee. “Shut up, you moron”.
Mama, Shafiya and Nasir started laying out Iftar on the dastarkhwān. There were still eight minutes left and we all sat waiting while Mama asked us about our day at work and whether our fast wasn’t too heavy. We both gibbered something without really answering her question.
There were still two minutes until Iftar when Asif looked at his watch and picked up a date to break his fast. Mama looked at her phone, immediately intervened and hollered, “Asif, there is still more than a minute left. We are not Ahl-e-Hadees. They break their fast earlier. We don’t. We do Iftar on the specified time”.
Asif smiled at Mama and put the date in his mouth. Munching on it and with stuffed cheeks, he said, “What Aunty? Some people break their fast a minute or two earlier, while others break their fast 10 minutes later. Do you really think Allah has time for these things? Do you really believe Allah is sitting above the heavens with a notepad and a pencil in His hands and noting down who out of the 2 billion Muslims are breaking their fasts a few seconds too early or a few minutes too late? Only we care. Come on, Aunty. Allah has better things to do. Stop putting the fear of Allah in us. If you must, try to put the love of Allah in us”.
He finished the date in his mouth and went straight for the chicken on the tray. “Aunty, Let’s enjoy! Allahumma inni laka sumtu wa bika aamantu wa ‘alayka tawakkaltu wa ‘ala rizqika aftartu”.
Mama looked at me with consternation and muttered, “What’s wrong with him, Daniyal?”
I smiled at Mama and facetiously mumbled, “Mama, according to Asif, the Devil is in the details. Even when he is imprisoned”.
(Author is the Director of European Foundation for South Asian Studies (EFSAS) and can be reached at: [email protected])
