At times world seems to be a strange place and its inhabitants strangers… It is the time when we feel like running away, but understanding that the system is perfectly closed one, we end up getting frustrated or making our own selves understand that you are not the only one to face this… If you get up and fight, you are a winner otherwise a loser. I too faced such situations several times in life. Sometimes came out winner and most of the times a loser… This time again when I faced a situation like this, I thought of trying something different. I went to a place which was serene and peaceful. I kept asking Allah for peace… this time I thought of being His guest and ask it. Yes, I went to masjid and stayed there for two days. I took an auto and asked him to drop me near the biggest shopping mall of Delhi… Found a beautifully architectured huge masjid adjoining the lavish mall adorned by crowd, lights, noise etc. I switched off my cell phone at the entrance and entered the masjid. With a little hesitation, I stepped in… Little kids in a very good number, with round skull caps and dark green pathani suits were humming some recitations… A teacher, with same attire was sitting in between them like a scare crow for kids who seemed to deceive him with the single repetitive recitation and looking all around except their few page thick large text size book kept on the desk in front. At one corner I could find a young guy, cornered by around ten more guys, reading something from a book which was good enough to fetch their keen interest… I had two choices… either to sit with kids or this group. I preferred not to be distinct and recognized as intruder, therefore joined the later. The guy with a glib voice was talking something which I perceived as importance of charity. I was offered a glass of water which made me feel little more comfortable as a welcome guest. I took little less to be friendly with people around… heard them patiently, offered prayers and recited Holy Quran. I contributed some little cash to this group for food and got lunch, dinner, breakfast next morning with some refreshments in between which drived my taste buds crazy, since few guys, who offered their services and called it ‘Khidmat’, cooked food which tasted far better than Karim’s.
Everything seemed to be at peace… forgot the rest for sometime. I was a guest of the creator and I seemed to be taken well care of… good food, healthy ambience and no worldly worries… closed my eyes and opened to see that hours have passed in a moment… and I was allowed to take rest after lunch also. I wish I could carry this life outside the masjid also. Amir, a person leading the group – as he was called, insisted on Prophet’s (SAW) saying called ‘Hadith’, which calls on believers to consider whole world as masjid. I understood the real meaning of hadith inside the masjid. Lies, hypocrisy, jealousy, prejudice, deception was not a part of the lexicon. You feel thirsty and a guy sitting besides you would leave whatever he is busy with aside and get water for you even before you ask him.
Children, which were in the age group of 4 to 6, were delight to watch. I sat with them and their teacher, who is doing his post graduation from Delhi University, for long conversations which I will remember for a long time. Kids were from a very poor background and were propped by donations given by people coming to masjid. They learn Holy Quran in the morning and science in the evening. It was not the mother’s sweet voice that wakes them up in the morning but Mozin’s Azaan and a teacher’s stick with which their little feet were very familiar. The kids were so innocent that one of them couldn’t even control his urine reflexes and made a prayer rug wet during the obligatory prayers. They were being trained with scarce funding and volunteer teachers. The kids were getting trained to teach us and our new generations Holy Script and preserving that in their heart. These were the children who, if left on their families to prop them, would be most probably found on the traffic lights or tea stalls. They were learning life in a masjid… not even a full fledged madrasa… run by the money which we take out of our heavy pockets on Fridays as if somebody is holding a whip on our head. I peeped out in the afternoon to see kids playing on the road. An empty bottle thrown out on the road by a rich customer of a 5 star hotel, which has a common wall with the masjid, for these kids to play football.
Bitter gourd, bitter gourd, bitter gourd… manne ‘Karela’… a kid in one corner was preparing himself to avoid teachers stick in the evening. I asked him if he knows what bitter means and the prompt and innocent answer was ‘Karela’. Seeing a new face in the masjid interacting with them, they would more often come and shake hands with me. I had taken nothing much along, except Holy script with an English translation and footnotes, to gift these kids… A little innocent child, who reminded me of my nephew, came and sat beside me to offer prayers. It made me feel very good…the purpose I was there for. I felt Aaban praying with me and bowing to thank Allah. I wanted to gift him anything that would make him as happy as I was… took a pen out from my pocket and put it in his innocent little hands. The smile that I could see on his innocent face would have compelled me to buy the entire pen industry to see it last for ever. Late in the evening I saw this kid crowded by all other kids and each of them having a feel of his not so costly pen and the guy proudly divulging his possession.
I left the masjid late in the night with so many questions that made me feel more restless afterwards… Islam makes education obligatory for every muslim man and woman, but our education system is shambling since long years. Madrasas could never become universities or bigger institutes… instead we remained silent spectators when a stereotype image of madrasa as breeding ground for terrorism was made. Ain’t we party to this?? I remember the caretaker of Madrasa, near IIT, asking me to visit the kids and teach them sometime and see what all we have been doing there… but I never had time to do so. We always have time to point fingers. Why can’t we have good officers and educationists coming out of these places? This is our future generation and if we leave them on their own, we may have a good present but our future will be dark. Lets come forward and save the madrasa system which basically was made common by our ancestors for making education accessible to everyone which is better known as “Right to education”. A changing image of madrasas will certainly change the image that has been associated with our identity.
