Many summers ago, Imam Abdullah Bukhari, otherwise in news for his political brinkmanship, touched many a heart at an Eid-ul-Fitr prayer. The imam asked the thousands gathered for prayers to go back home and invite to their dastarkhwan not the haves but the have-nots of the society. “No man should go hungry, whatever his caste or creed. We have to decorate our homes with the smiles of the poor, not the perfumes of the rich,” he advised from the pulpit of the mosque.
The faithful nodded in approval and soon were on their way home. What they did later will never be known but suffice to say it was a heart warming to see the imam use the occasion to propagate values of sharing and brotherhood. Not so heart warming has been the sight of anointment of a vie imam, Shaban, by Abdullah’s son, the current Imam Ahmad Bukhari. The ceremony took one right back in time to when Shah Jahan’s dream mosque was completed in 1656. The Mughal emperor wanted nothing but the best imam for the mosque. And the king of Bukhara sent a priest of his choice who was then appointed by the Mughal emperor as the Shahi Imam.
Since then, more than three and a half centuries have lapsed, but the Bukharis insist on being called ‘Shahi imams’ in a democracy! But scrub that away and you realise Jama Masjid has evoked the best in many of us, notably legendary poet Asadullah Khan Ghalib. Now Ghalib was not exactly renowned for his piety yet he never missed taravi — special prayers in Ramzan — at Jama Masjid. “Mir Mahdi, have you forgotten my accustomed ways? Have I ever missed listening to the recitation of the Quran at the Jama Masjid during the blessed month of Ramzan,” Ghalib wrote.
Then Muhammad Iqbal, whose poetry in the latter part of his life drew inspiration from the Glorious Quran, was so inspired by the azaan — call for prayer — that he said, “Suddenly rose the prayer call/And overflowed heaven’s lake/ That summons of which even/cold hearts of mountains quake”. This impressive mosque, the foundation of which was laid by Shah Jahan in 1650 — the mosque was then built by around 5000 labourers across six years — has three lofty gates — the eastern gate with 35 steps was used by the royalty then; the northern gate with 39 steps was for the nobles and the southern gate with 33 steps was used by lesser mortals. The discrimination was only from the gate of entrance. Once inside, the red sandstone-white marble structure with a marble pond and two lofty minarets rising up to 41 metres, everybody was the same. As Iqbal said, “Ek hi saf mein khade ho gaye Mahmud or Ayaz/ Na koi banda raha na koi banda nawaz”.
Time to restore that feeling of piety and parity.
