The feeling can only be described as guilt. Like when you plagiarise and get credit for it. Upon being aware of the fact that there's free food for iftar at the local mosque, my first visit to the place of worship came about. Never ever had I any intentions to visit. But if you're brown, the word 'free' is kryptonite. An empty stomach contributes is key as well.
An empty stomach, in fact, is very very evil. Alot more is spent during grocery shopping. Everything looks apetizing and delicious and edible and the impulse factor is high. And because you can't actually eat anything, you imagine it being eaten as you put the items in your shopping trolley. Those chocolate chip cookies looked delicious, my instinct actually forced me to buy those overpriced cookies. Now, 5 days later, they've expired and have to be thrown away. What a waste. The waste list is long, and I'd not like it to be brought up and published. Enough about empty stomachs.
The initial evil plan for the evil-doers was to wait outside till the namaz ends and then join in afterwards for the feast. The guilt-factor in that scenario was too much. The rain saved me from being mutinuous and the gang moved through the empty parking-lot and towards the entrance. In an attempt to take the shortest route possible to shelter, I looked to enter the mosque with first door that came my way. And I was almost startled when I read the sign that said "sisters entrance". And it said so without the apostrophe. The temptation needle had ticked beyond 90 degrees, but refrained from bringing it up with the rest so as to keep the sanctity of the place.
Upon entering the mosque it became apparent that we had pretty much missed the prayer, much to the joy of the gang. A few moments later, a young bearded man approach and put forward the question, "Brothers, would you like to pray in congregation?" . He too had missed the prayer. I walked after the man to pray in congregation. and then I prayed in congregation. And finally, I was taken to where the free food was being served.
Free food has a taste of its own. And it's NEVER bad. Pigging out is not a good idea when you're surrounded by pigs. You don't want to them to start pigging out... so you refrain from triggering.
Upon entering the feast late, obviously I had to deal with problems that had to do with scarcity of plastic spoons and seating space on the floor. After taking a small helping from the dish that was being passed around, I became the quiet, passive observer standing in a corner. That's when I was accosted by the old man who was carrying out the proceedings in an almost non-orderly fashion. He asked me, incorporating the word 'Brother' in the begining of his sentence, why I was not seated. As he asked me that question, I felt as if I was surrounded by prying eyes and nodding heads. I told the old man that I do not have a spoon and that I was looking to be helped in that regard. He motioned his hand towards his mouth and said "take hand!!!!" and then pointed towards some space on the floor on the eating mat. The nodding heads nodded harder.
Two things befuddled me. The fact that a 60 year old man called me brother and, more importantly, the fact that I had to eat korma with my hands. Roti and Rice exclusive. Luckily some rice managed to make their way towards me.
After sorting me out the old man then turned to the other bystander and asked of him why he had no plate nor spoon in his hand. The bystander was obviously performing the act of takaluf... hahaha takaluf with free food, must be canadian born was the thought that revolved around the eating mat. The old man, though, put forward to him the ultimatum. That either he grab a plate and eat or that he grab a pot and serve. The bystander was not judged and was accepted when he chose the plate.
I meantioned pigs earlier. If you've witnessed the mannerisms of most men at wedding dinners, you would not be alien to the sight that was before me. Nor was I. But this one man. He'd be the KING of wedding-eaters. The King Pig. When the old man came back to finish off with the korma, the last bits of it, he asked if anyone wanted any of the little korma that was left. This King wedding-eater, shot up from halfway across the room, made to the entrance, his plate half-full, being observed by other self-proclaimed kings, their jaws nailed to the floor. He hopped and leaped and made his way to the door and just managed to drop one piece of meat. The old man, however, was no flimsy dictator. His eyes immediatly shot fire and his reproach reached a new level of sting when he said " This is the house of Allah! What do you think you are doing!??!?!"
The King, however, payed no heed. There was silence among the other fifty 'brothers' towards whom the reprimand was not directed. But the king, calmly and coolly as if nothing had happened, quickly nodded towards the pot, his mouth too full to ask for more. That was like a sign for me, to make it my last visit to that particular mosque. They serve free food everyday and I have not visited since. I should be superman.
No comments:
Post a Comment