“You get the documents and I will wait here”, Arnav urged
Faizaan to get the college documents while he waited for him in the dim light
of the mosque near his house. The mosque that seemed calm suddenly broke its
silence by the “Adhan- prayer calls”. The little steps that walked the muezzin to
the Minaret top was beautified by the green flags. The little boy who was
reading the Quran Suras just peeped once to glance at the calm and dim aisle.
Arnav looked at the Mosque’s entrance which beamed with the lamp at its foot.
He played with the pack of sweet and rice that he got from the temple few
minutes back. It was Saturday and Arnav
was agnostic enough to offer his prayers at the temple and the pundit often
gave him a pack of sweet and rice after offering it to the gods. He was still
humming the chants from the temple and the clanks of the bells ringing in
rhythm with the prayers in his head.
“Excuse me sir, can I have something to eat?” A woman scooted out from
the dim aisle of the mosque, covered in her dowdy Burqa, the black cloth that
covered the Muslim women from the unworthy eyes of the world. The small patches
of green cloth pieces on her Burqa screamed her poverty. The faded mud lines on
her face told about her tears that flows more often than she can wipe. She now
slithered coping up with her old age and reached closer to Arnav! “Please sir
give me something to eat, I am very hungry”, she pointed at the rice pack with
Arnav. Arnav looked at the pack of rice and pitched his voice with compassion
to speak, “I could give you this pack of rice but this was an offering made to
the god at the temple and I was told that Muslims don’t accept the offering
from the temples…. Aren’t you a Muslim?
“I am
sir, but before that I am a poor helpless woman who is hungry. What lines of
code from religious book can satisfy my hunger except for a pack of food? Sir my hunger does not see if the food is
coming from the temple or the mosque or from the church or a Gurudwara. It is
hunger sir, what religion does it have?”
