I went to CFS the other day. Megat made a nazar to buy food for his friends if he gets on the dean's list, and he did, so he organized an iftar soiree for his roomates and classmates (and other people I've never seen in my life). Although 'organizing' would be an overstatement, the iftar did happen
— quite well, if I might say so myself, albeit me and Sha being extremely late in arrival and extremely early for departure. We spent just about 10 minutes at the soiree and headed back to our dorms, of course we did 'tapau' two boxes of pizza and a starter box for sahur the next day.
The thing is, I really liked my Ramadhan last year. It was spent on the nostalgic grounds of Zainab College, and it was an impactful experience. Of course my Ramadhan had a flair of uniqueness this year, with the first ten days spent in Egypt, middle ten in Selangor and the remaining days in Kelantan but still, ZC has its incomparable charm, and I kind of missed that.
It was the tarawih that hooked my soul.
Sha arrived quite late due to traffic. I didn't want to go to the iftar alone, I knew there would be people with existence that does not involve my knowledge. if i went, it would definitely be an awkward environment where I chew slowly on a slice of pizza quietly by myself in the midst of strangers chatting away amongst themselves. That scenario sounds awfully lonely and pathetic, and I refuse to go through that situation, therefore I was determined to wait for Sha, and we ended up arriving at 8.20 PM.
Isya' started at 8.30 and Sha wanted to go to Tarawih just as much as I did, so we agreed to eat just a slice of pizza, and head off to ZC. I kind of felt bad for our classmates, Megat in particular. I remember the iftar was vigorously discussed on twitter for weeks, and for us to show up for a mere 10 minutes and went for tarawih almost seemed a selfish act, but we informed him, he was fine with it, and it was done.
Do you know that feeling of avoiding remembering the past? that you don't realize how much you missed something until you actually encountered that thing again and it's the best feeling to engulf your soul.
Well that's tarawih at ZC for me. It's nothing extravagant, nothing glamorous, no certified well known imam with a really great voice leading, it's just tikar gulung under wall-less canopies, being lead by one of us
— a girl, and I think that's probably a huge contributor to this remarkable feeling.
The thing is, being an imam isn't something easy. Of course everybody knows how to pray, but leading prayers for hundreds of people is something entirely different. It's an act of bravery. You're used to whispering these words to yourself, and all of a sudden you're supposed to bolt these verses out for everyone to hear, for everyone to be lead, and it's a terrifying experience. What if you screw up? What if you left out a sentence? What if you suddenly blank out of the order? What if you end up in a loop hole repeating the same order of verses? What if you fart all of a sudden? It's not something impromptu because this is praying, this is a big deal!
And for a mere girl steeping out saying "I'll do this!" means a lot to my pride. It's a matter of order when it comes to sexism, and it's very rare to have a woman representing other women, so when the day comes that all of us are assembled for a tarawih journey through the night, I'm all up for it.
It wakes a mixture of heroism, patriotism and feminism within me, mashing up to create this burning passion. I felt golden with my youth, invincible with my will, and the strength of independence brushing my urge to do...things. I don't even know what to do, i just felt like doing...something
— anything, and it's an amazing feeling to feel.
Thank you Zainab College, for the experience.
Labels: emosi