I spent the better part of last week in bed with a cold; running nose, congestion, coughing, aching body parts and all. And during that rest, I had enough time to reflect and determine the exact moment when I believe I had fallen victim to the cold. The circumstances surrounding the event became clear in my foggy mind sustained on cold fighting medicine and therapy.
It was at the mosque last Friday. As the congregation stood up and lined in for prayers, the virus journey began. The young man next to me set in motion a steady stream of sniffles and coughs.
At each stage of the prayers, he would sneeze or cough out another bacteria and virus laden cloud. And all throughout the prayers, he kept at it. Sneezing and clearing his throat every now and then followed another blast of a vicious cough.
While I felt sorry for the young man’s condition, I could not help interrupting my prayers’ progress with thoughts of self-preservation. How was I going to avoid the steady deluge of the virus-laden mists emanating from this individual? Short of holding my breath intermittently during the prayers, there wasn’t much I could do. And for the first time, I wanted the prayers to finish up as quickly as possible.
The seconds passed agonisingly slowly as my companion kept at it. And much as I wanted to escape then and there, there really wasn’t much I could do about it. Whether it was paranoia or just what it was I couldn’t say, but a creeping suspicion that the Imam leading the prayers wasn’t being very sympathetic to my plight began forming in my mind.
He had chosen that particular day to recite long chapters of the Quran, adding to my growing anxiety. Why today, I wondered in between trying to be faithful and trying to stifle normal breathing.
Socialising off the table
But finally, it was over, and I let out some contained breathing. The moment the Imam brought the proceedings to an end, I quickly got up and departed, my thoughts lost in the condition of the sickly man next to me and the distance I wanted to keep between us. Without a backward glance, I made my way rapidly to my car and drove off.
Sure enough, a day later, I started feeling the effects of his bounty. It began with scratching at the back of my throat, followed by trickles down my sinus passage and later aches and pains through with weary muscles and a full-blown cold.
Honey with hot tea and lemon followed along with generous helpings of Vicks around my chest and throat every few hours or so, but there was no immediate relief. A large family gathering that had been planned weeks earlier had come and I was forced to confine my celebrations in a state of quarantine even from my family.
There were plenty of socialising planned for that day, and I wasn’t in the mood to get any of them sick. And as I could not participate in these family get-togethers, I was feeling miserable and blue.
And then I started reflecting on my prayer companion, one whose identity I will probably never know. Did he realise the selfish nature of his act when he made his way to the mosque in the state he was in? Did he understand as he was washing up before going into the mosque that his condition was such that it would not inconvenience anyone else?
Did he really believe the divine blessings he was to receive for offering Friday prayers would overcome the human sufferings he may cause? Why didn’t he just offer his prayers at home?
And it re-affirmed my presumption that there are people who so blindly and rigidly follow one feature of our religion that they ignore the others which are just as significant.
To cause pain to others including yours truly, does not reflect well on one’s understanding of our great religion, and nor does it earn you reward points in the hereafter. Our religion does not grant carte blanche allowances or rewards for feats that inflict suffering on others.
Unfortunately, there are those who are so embroiled in microscopically adhering to the cosmetics of our great religion that they completely forget the message. Then there are others who are ignorant in the simple understanding of Islam. It is not simply about the length of the beard or the thickness of the veil.
It is not about how many times one has read the holy book or how well they have memorised it. It is about how well we have understood the message and how we apply it to our daily living without harming others in any form.
Can anything be simpler than that?
Tariq A. Al Maeena is a Saudi socio-political commentator. He lives in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. You can follow him on Twitter: @talmaeena.
