- Fajr
my brain is foggy and cloudy
i stumble out of bed,
the water rinses out my mind.
the mist parts, the cold-water drips,
i fumble for my scarf.
Allahu Akbar,
the dawn has broken,
a single bird-cry is heard, and the world remains still.
clear skies ahead.
- Dhuhr
She settles in at the desk, computer charging, water bottle and coffee placed, headphones on. A notification pops up, Dhuhr at 11:53 am!
The thought of packing up and walking all the way to the prayer room was exhausting, so she glanced around to get a scope of the room. Close to the back, rows of tight shelves, only three people in front of her in the entire line of desks. Surely, she could make this work.
Closing her laptop, she pocketed her phone and walked to the furthest shelf. A quick scan to check if anyone was sitting on the other side revealed nothing but empty chairs and empty tables.
She took a deep breath and placed her jacket on the ground.
Allahu Akbar.
She was trying to concentrate on reciting her prayer and not her to-do list when she heard it. One of her greatest fears. Giggling. Whispering. From the corner of her eye, pointing.
It wasn’t the first time, but it was unexpected which added an extra pang. She had done her due diligence, she was at the back, it was quiet, and she was in the rarely ventured geography section of the library.
Her eyes fell on a book in front of her as she went down to prostrate and heard the giggling increase. The Coldest Place on Earth by R B Thomson.
Huh.
- Asr
By the ˹passage of˺ time!
man is [deep] in loss,
except for those who believe, do good, urge one another to the truth, and urge one another to patience.
(The Quran, Surah 103: Al Asr)
It’s 2pm, my mind is racing, and I have at least four lectures to finish.
It’s 2:30pm, my mind is banging, and I realise using double speed is redundant if I need to pause to take notes.
It’s 2:45pm, my mind is swimming (thank you Panadol) and I’m almost finished the first lecture, but I need to do the readings to understand it properly which puts me behind schedule.
It’s 2:55, panic.
It’s 2:56, Asr.
Allahu Akbar, and i raise my hands up and recite and try to focus and the wind rushes past my hijab and everything stills and yes, well isn’t man indeed in deep loss, what is the human condition if not just incredibly deep and perpetual and existential loss, Allahu Akbar, the grass grows greener in the sunlight and the warmth of the sun soothes my mind and the briskest breeze is blowing by, Allahu Akbar, and i press my face lightly against the dirt and i breathe and i breathe and i breathe and i ask Allah for help. who knows me better than Him? Allahu Akbar, andi breathe i breathe i breathe, Allahu Akbar
- Maghrib
The smell of baked rice and roast chicken fills the air. You take it all in, savouring the smell and eagerly awaiting the meal that accompanies.
You leave your room and walk into the living room, on a journey to the dining table. Your dad is sitting on the couch and gestures towards your family’s small prayer room then nods at the kitchen. You accept your quest and walk into the kitchen to tell your mother it’s time to pray. She lets out a loving shout and two more siblings emerge from their rooms.
You gather in the prayer room, your brothers and father stand in the row ahead, your mother by your side. The scent of her cooking engulfs your nose again. You are thankful for what’s to come.
Allahu Akbar!
- Ishaa
Chatter fills the room. Beside me two young girls talk in fast whispers about their day, mums and aunties flutter around the mosque saying salam to one another, there is the sound of a fussing child being calmed.
I sit and amuse myself by drawing patterns in the carpet, deep blue in colour and patterned with golden tulips. I draw a line to the wall, noticing the matching royal blue spotting in the marble wall trimming.
We hear the men stirring, which indicates that the prayer is about to begin. Around me the women move quickly, beckoning each other to tight rows. “Shoulder to shoulder!” an aunty says, waving her arms at any gaps, all of which are quickly filled through practiced shuffling.
Allahu Akbar!
Instant silence.
The imam begins reciting Surah Al-Fatiha, the salah opening with reminder of His Mercy and Insight. As he finishes the congregation says “ameen” in unison. The chorus echoes, with every individual desiring for the blessings of the surah to guide their lives, a vibration of hope ringing. The passionate plea resounds throughout the mosque for a moment, each voice strengthening the conviction of the next.
Allahu Akbar!
In one enjoined motion the assembly moves into a bending position, my eyes fixed on the spot in front of me. Subhaana Rabbiy-al-Adheem. Glory be to my Lord, the Great. My Lord, so personal and near.
Sami-Allahu liman hamidaH! (Allah heard the one who praised Him).
Rabbana laKal hamd! (Our Lord, all praise belongs to You).
Allahu Akbar!
We move into prostration. My head is placed firmly on the ground, arms close, toes bent. Subhaana Rabbiy-al-Aalaa. Glory be to my Lord, the Highest. I can hear the lady besides whispering zealously, and I instinctually smile. She is a stranger, and she has my heart.
Allahu Akbar!