Hearing the Call

In the earliest hours of every morning, a man climbed a spiral staircase. The staircase narrowed as he went higher and higher. At the top, the stairway opened to four large windows, one on each side. The man looked out into the darkness over Lahore. It was five o’clock in the morning.
Just like others, the man stood inside one of the minarets high above the city. The minarets were tall towers, situated at each of the four corners of every Mosque.
He switched loudspeakers on and gently tapped his microphone. Each tap produced a quiet thump over the speakers. He took a deep breath and began to sing a prayer into the microphone.
Like the rest of the city, Yasmeen woke to that familiar sound. Once again, the speakers high above Lahore signalled the call to prayer. A male voice sang out and his voice filled the air.
"Allahu Akbar!"
- Allah is Greatest.
"Allahu Akbar!"
- - Allah is Greatest.
"Ash-hadu alla ilaha illaha!"
- I bear witness that there is no god but Allah!"
Yasmeen went to the bathroom to perform Wuduu. Wuduu prepared her body for first prayer. She turned on the faucet and held her right hand under the cold water. Her right hand cleansed her left hand as she interwove the fingers of her hands. Her father, mother, and brothers joined her, taking turns at the sink as they quietly washed.
She ran her right hand up and down her left forearm, from fingertips to elbows. She then held out her right hand and followed the same procedure, cleansing her left arm. Both hands came under the faucet, rinsing off. She wiped her hands over her hair, from her forehead to the top of her neck. She drank water from her cupped hands and spat it out. She took another drink and sniffed to clean her nostrils. She washed her feet, right foot first, left foot last. Now, she was ready for prayer.
Throughout the country, thousands of other Muslims followed the same ritual every morning. In fact, they prayed five times every day.
There was a time, not so very long ago, that Pakistan wasn't Pakistan at all. Prayer wasn't the same, either. In that time, Pakistan didn't exist, only a greater India. India stretched from the Indian Ocean to the Himalayan mountains. It was a great country of Hindus and Muslims. The leader wanted the Muslims and Hindus to live together in peace. Unfortunately, the Hindus and Muslims had very different views.
Two men, both named Muhammad, also had very different ideas. One was a politician and one was a poet.
The politician was named Muhammad Ali Jinnah. He wanted the Hindus and Muslims to work together to create provinces (states) with different laws. That way, Muslim provinces could have Muslim leaders and laws.
Muhammad Iqbal, the poet, wanted Muslims to set up their own country in Northwestern India. The Hindus could live happily in southern India while the Muslims would live in the Northwestern Province. Muhammad Iqbal wrote a letter to Muhammad Ali Jinnah, asking for help. The politician agreed to help the poet. Together, they created Pakistan, a country especially for Muslims.
And so it was. In 1947, the Muslims forned their own country. Little did Yasmeen know it, but when she prayed, she was celebrating that moment.
She walked into the prayer room, standing in front of a large window overlooking the city. In the distance stood the minarets. As she faced the minarets, she also faced a town named Mecca, the Muslim holy city.
Her father and brothers pulled their knitted white skullcaps over their heads and proceeded into the prayer room as well. She lifted her hands behind her ears as she began her prayer.
"Allahu Akbar!”
“Allahu Akbar!”
“Ash-hadu alla ilaha illaha.”
“Ash-hadu alla ilaha illaha.”
And continued…
“Ash-hadu anna Muhammadur rasulullah.”
- I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God.
“Hay-yaa ‘alaa as-salaat. Hay-yaa ‘alaa-l-falaah.”
- Come to Salaat. Come to Success.
Throughout the prayers, she bowed and kneeled and put her forehead to the ground. Then, she kneeled and stood, then bowed again. It was all part of her normal prayer ritual. Like any child in Pakistan, it was not questioned, “Why do I pray?”, it was just done.
And so she prayed with her family, five times a day. She got up and you prayed. She went about her day, stopping to pray. She stopped in mid-afternoon and prayed. She stopped at sunset and she prayed. At the latest point of night, she prayed again. As she knelt on the prayer rug beside her family members, she thought about "Niyyah." Before every prayer, a good muslim was to perform Niyyah: "Now I am offering prayer to Allah."
After morning prayer, she went to her room, where she wrapped a sari around her dress and petticoat.
Downstairs, Mrs. Bajwa filled the breakfast table with food: fried eggs, semolina halva, and goat's milk. As each child passed their platter across the table, he ladled portions of halwa onto each plate then passed it across the table. Mrs. Bajwa served eggs from her end of the table, then passed the plate back to each of her children.
Each of the children ate their Semolina Halva first. A type of Bread Pudding, the Halva was soaked in milk and sweetened with milk and honey. It's soft and mushy texture made it taste like soggy French Toast.
"Papa?" asked Yasmeen.
"Yes, dear?"
"Why don't we speak the Niyyah out loud?"
"Niyyah comes from the heart, so we don't say it out loud."
"It's a conscious devotion to Allah," added Mohammad.
Yasmeen nodded and then continued eating her Halva. Little Khan cleared his throat.
"That doesn't make sense," said Khan.
"What doesn't make sense?” asked Mohammad.
"Doesn't the entire prayer come from the heart?"
"I suppose you're right," answered father, "but we speak the prayer out loud so we can feel it."
"I feel the prayers even if I don't speak them," said little Khan, "I feel them when I I bow and when I stand during prayers."
"The most important part of the prayer is the ritual," said Mohammad.
"I think it is also the devotion. Qu-ran says that each part of prayer makes it valid in the eyes of Allah," replied Mr. Bajwa.
"Sometimes I think everything we do is good in the eyes of Allah, even when we eat," replied Khan as he swallowed a spoonful of Halva.
"That sounds like a good idea," said his mother. She pinched Khan's nose and took a bite of Halva. Indeed, she could taste the greatness of Allah's works. The rest of the family joined in, silently eating and enjoying their breakfast. After breakfast, it was time for Mr. Bajwa to go to work. Mrs. Bajwa and the children stayed behind. "Yasmeen, your Cousin Noor is coming from Agra in a few days. She's going to sleep in your room, so you need to make space for her. She also needs a place to store her clothes." While Faisal practiced his field hockey in the backyard and Mohammad studied his books, Yasmeen and Khan went to her room. Khan jumped onto her bed and sat with his back against the wall.
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know."
"You want to help me clean the room?"
Khan shook his head.
"Okay, you can sit and watch," she replied. She arranged her closet, making space for her cousin Noor.
"Do you think cleaning the room could be prayer?" she asked.
"Of course it is," replied Khan.
"Where did you come up with that?"
"That's just how I feel," he said.
Yasmeen plopped on the bed and laid down beside her brother.
“Little Khan, aren’t you tired?”
Khan shook his head, “How can I be tired? Doesn’t my morning prayer say “Prayer is better than sleep?”
“It does, but that doesn’t mean I’m not tired,” she replied.
“I think the morning prayer is a way for Allah to tell us it time to begin the day.”
Yasmeen sighed. “I suppose you’re right, but I sure could use a little nap.”
“Come on, I’ll help you clean,” said Khan as he dragged his sister out of bed.
Khan organized the socks while Yasmeen worked in the closet. She folded her clothes deliberately, organizing them in her closet. Each petticoat, sari, and dress was now important as she thought about how thankful she was for each piece of clothing. With Khan's help, she moved the furniture, too.
It seemed like no time at all before lunchtime came. A hearty smell came from the kitchen as Mrs. Bajwa grilled skewers of Chicken Tikka. The Chicken Tikka kebabs included chicken, bell pepper, tomatoes, and onions, all marinated and slow-roasted over the grill.
The children came from all directions to enjoy Chicken Tikka. Yasmeen did not like the onions and Khan did not like the tomatoes, so they traded their vegetables as they ate.
“How is your room coming along?” asked Mrs. Bajwa.
“It’s almost ready,” said Yasmeen.
“But we still have a lot of work to do,” added Khan.
The children finished up their meals and made wuduu. Already, it was the time of Dhuhr, the mid-day prayer.
After washing, the children stood in front of their prayer mats. Yasmeen whispered her Niyaah to herself before she began to prayer. She smiled as she looked out the western window towards Mecca. The call came from the minarets yet again.
“Allahu Akbar!”
The children each smiled as the world came to a stop. Except for the call, their world was silent. Many of the trucks, busses, and motorcycles came to a stop as people began Dhuhr.Indeed, the gifts from Allah were great, thought Yasmeen as eh prayed with her brothers.