Ramadan, Day 3

Alhumdulillah for the jam-packed masjids. Spilling out of our musallah room, the women stand close together, shoulder to shoulder, foot to foot, facing (in some far-off metaphysical way) the kaabah, uniting together in worship of Allah swt and praying that someone will get a clue and turn on the air conditioner. The heat wasn't unbearable and, in fact, wouldn't even be noticeable to some, if not for the fact that we stand, relatively unmoving, for hours, feeling nothing beyond our internal struggle for concentration in our worship and the sweat slowly forming a fine film over our skin.

Each of the four fans which hang from the low ceiling in the women's area seldom cool more than the 4 women who pray directly under them. While this rarely poses a problem for the 30 or so women who attend taraweeh during the weeknights, it can become an issue when the days are warmer (and the AC hasn't been turned on) and the room is slightly more crowded.

I whisper "Allahu akbar" as I raise my hands to begin the or 12th or 14th pr 16th (who knows at this point?!) rakaat of taraweeh. The woman to my right, graciously seated in a chair under the wind path of a fan, has already started her prayer. The woman 6 or so feet away across the empty space to my left has not, and I assume she's taking a moment to enjoy the breeze under her own fan before she steps over to connect the line. But she never moves over and instead chooses to begin her prayer where she's standing. The people to the left of her don't seem to notice; some simply add to her side of the line, possibly because it's dark and among the crowded jamaat, the area to the left of that woman appears to be the only open spot when one walks in the door. Regardless, they are oblivious to the gaping hole in our jamaat.

It's after we finish our rakaat that there's confrontation. The woman to my right (who prays at least part of the prayer seated, as her age makes it difficult to stand for extended periods of time), turns to the woman a few feet away from me. "You must complete the line!" she says sternly. "Allah will not accept this!"

The woman a few feet away from me looks at her, incredulous. "It's hot!" she says, "and you're sitting under the fan. It's too hot when there's no fan."

"Allah will not accept this! You must move over!" repeats the first woman, beginning to raise her voice and lose any calm she may have initially masqueraded. Their exchange continues, back and forth, for a few more seconds before others graciously offer to fill the empty space. The woman to my right, clearly not satisfied, patrols our row once or twice, ensuring that all gaps are filled, before beginning next rakaah.

I had to think for a while before I finally settled on a reason or two why this exchange bothered me so much. And as I shout the injustices from my pedestal to all those (both of you who read my blog) who will listen, I should preface by saying this is a reminder to myself before anyone else. The first is the harshness with which one woman told the other to move over. "Allah will not allow this!" she had shouted, "He will not accept our prayer!". Correct me if I'm wrong, but proper naseeha is given in private, rather than proclaiming another's mistakes in a crowded room of taraweeh, no? Secondly, it was the expectation of another to do something which you believe -- the woman could have moved her own chair over between rakaats, but instead chose to yell at the other lady to move, without so much as hearing a reason. Third is the issue with the other woman, who leaves gaps in the prayer line because of her own discomfort. If she was insistent on staying under a fan to pray, could she not have kindly requested the other people in line (ie, on the other side of her) to move over? I'm almost positive most would have obliged. Finally, and this struck me more than anything else, is this: the entire incident could not have taken more than a minute and a half of my life. Through the countless hours I've lived, the numberless interactions I've had with people, how many similar incidents could I have been a part of? How similar wrongs could I have committed without even realizing it? May Allah forgive each of us, for the sins we've committed both knowingly and unknowingly. How many times have I hurt someone or violated their rights without even realizing it? Those are sins that not even Allah can forgive; we must seek such forgiveness from the people directly. So if I've ever done anything hurt or offend you, please forgive me. If you'd like to tell or remind me of what I've done so I can apologize more directly, I'll happily oblige. JazakAllah khair, salams :)
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