The sound of Azaan (the call for prayers) enters my room along with a cool breeze through an open window. Under normal circumstances, I would get up, perform Wuzu (ablution), call on my kids, Noor and Saif, and together we would head towards the Masjid. This was our routine, this was normal.
But times are not normal anymore. In Kuwait, like in many other parts of the world, to prevent the spread of corona virus Masjids are closed and Azaans are accompanied by two additional lines.
As salatu khairum min buyutuk
(Praying at home is better)
Just like me, lives of millions around the world are defined by similar routines. Be it early morning walks, after office gym, weekend movies, or family picnics. Just like mine, all these routines, today stand disrupted, causing agony and confusion. Every where that I look, people are trying to deal with this new reality; some with denial and the others with moderate to extreme precaution.
I must admit that initially it was all very novel. The buzz words ‘Work from home’, ‘More time to learn a new language or skill’, ‘Sleeping without alarms’, ‘Spending more time with children and famliy’, were fascinating to say the least. But then the novelty started to wear out. The numbers of infections started to increase, economic realities started to hit us. ‘What If’ started to capture our minds. Despair, confusion and fear started to creep in. Smokers who had quit; started to smoke again. ‘there is nothing else to do!’, they would say. We the humans, who were control freaks by nature, suddenly started to lose control. Nothing remained in our hands anymore. Everyone glued themselves to a screen, telling them the latest numbers. The new normal as it was being called, started to wear off. No positive stories were coming through and the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, was no where to be seen.
Meanwhile the buzz words changed to ‘The situation is expected to stay as is for a couple of years’, ‘Herd immunity might not work’. ‘Economic hardships would last even longer’. There is gloom every where and an expected doom, most likely just around the corner. No one can say what is going to happen, how we are going to get out of it. Are there other viruses waiting to hatch? Can something bigger hit us?
Although most of the despair is justified to an extent, but the reality is a bit different. While we cannot be sure about what is going to happen, but we can be sure about one thing.
Human beings are survivors.
As human beings, we have outlived more powerful species. We have outlived genocides, ethnic cleansing and racial discrimination. We have come out of wars, famine, floods and earthquakes. Hiroshima and Nagasaki came out of the worst possible calamity that anyone can ever imagine. We came out, although with scars, but we came out. That is how we are designed by our Creator. One way or the other we always find a way and continue to live on. Till the time, the Creator of this world decides to wrap up, things will continue to move forward. We will become better, smarter, learn from our mistakes and ensure that we leave a better world for our coming generations. As long as equality, justice and tolerance is embedded in our actions, like it is in our vast majority, we will continue to not only survive but progress.
It doesn’t matter how many routines are disrupted world-wide; it only matters how many new ones are created.
The sound of another Azaan enters my room. But this time from the slightly open door of my room. It is my son, the designated Muazzin (person who gives Azaan) of our home, who is calling us to prayer. I get up from my chair to perform Wuzu and perform Salah with my entire family. Masjids outside might be closed but we, like many others, have converted our home into a Masjid. I move to enter into a new masjid. I move to enter into a new normal.
