Next Level

It’s been four months since I attended the weekend madrasah classes at Masjid Al Amin. Today, before the commencement of a Tamil talk by a guest Ustaz, I decided to sit in the class for a while. I was pleasantly surprised to see that quite a few “boyz” had become “men” – noticeably taller, and voices "broken". There was one student who in the last four months had khatamed the Qur’an! (considering that a student may take up to 8 years to do the same). That was one of the strange things of being in the same class for many years. You see people grow up.

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The Tamil talk was a run-of-the-mill talk aimed at the masses. More like a compilation of Qur’anic verses, ahadith and history, the talk did not penetrate too deeply on the core of the speech. To avoid the confusions of the mind and prevent depression and negative thoughts, the advice given was to dwell in the remembrance of Allah, but a lot was not said on how to remember Allah, and other more practical elements of preventing a confused mind, such a positive thinking.

I don’t know if the masses are ready for a more nuanced discussion of such topics. The normal speech which is acontextual and basically in a format of “point #1” followed supporting Qur’anic verses and ahadith, is good to expose people to the broad facts.

But in the long term, I think it’s important to assume that even the masses know the basics, and are ready to move on to the next stage. The next stage would involve thinking more deeply about the socio-historical contexts of the verses and ahadith, and a critical examination of our current situation as an ummah in Singapore.

The second one is not being addressed by most Tamil-speaking ustazes so far. Most of them are from India, and quite frankly, they are very disconnected with what the working Muslim, the student Muslim, and the homemaker Muslim (just to typify a few groups) feel about leading their lives as God-fearing folks in Singapore.

To these scholars, I get the unsettling feeling that they think Islam is a blanket rule that is to be applied by strict application to the various laws of jurisprudence. While this is wholly true, and the surest way to earn rewards due to strict conformation of the laws set out, I think it’s our duty as thinking, reasoning human beings to use our God-given powers of logic and reasoning to understand the reasons why we do things and bring ourselves to a higher level in our relationship with God.

How do we change this arrangement whereby the community is advised by scholars who unfortunately do not take into consideration the socio-politico-historical context of our times and tastes and thinking? We can try to encourage the ustazes to think more deeply about their speeches by really defining their topics for them (for those of us in the power to do so). The more radical step would be to train local folks to be ustazes, thereby creating local imams among our midst.

Whatever it is, change might not be that quick – in the meantime, we can all do our small part by expanding our horizons, by first and foremost seeing Islam as a message from God to guide His creation to lead an ideal life as a human being. No labels, no complicated cultural or political baggage. Just a message of good advice from a Creator Who created us.

Simple

It was, by far, one of the best Maulidur Rasul events I’d experienced.

Each year, for the last five years, Masjid Al Amin’s Indian Muslim Madrasah has been organising Maulidur Rasul events (“maulids”) for the Indian-Muslim folk at Telok Blangah. The staple items would be the...

(a) standard singing of maulid poetry/songs by middle-to-old age men (set uncomfortably to the tunes of olden Hindi and Tamil songs)
(b) recitation of the Holy Qur’an
(c) nasheed or two
(d) bayaan by a respected Ustaz
(e) distribution of tabaruk (or “seerni” or “nerchair”, which will be briyani) at the end

I think the mode of delivery of (a) is extremely obsolete and has become almost irrelevant and meaningless these days. These are verses of powerful poetry praising the Holy Prophet (s.a.w.), but due to the difference in language (Arabic) and the horrible singing, no one pays attention, let alone understand the beautiful verses. Either someone should sing them nicely or explain what the verses mean.

(e) is the reason, in my perspective, most Indian Muslim women come for the maulid with their screaming children. I say so because I’ve actually HEARD conversations between housewives such as the following:

- “Hey [name]. What are you waiting here for? You’ve got the briyani, the job’s done. Why don’t you go back home?” or
- “Yo [name], I’ve sent my triplet 5-year-old sons to collect three more briyani packets. Why don’t you re-send your daughter to collect, since they won’t give an adult more than one packet?”

But we console ourselves saying that at least people are made to come to listen to uplifting bayaans through an incentive.

This year’s maulid was the first where I did not do anything (I used to be the host for four consecutive years and also sing in the nasheeds). As an audience member, I was mesmerized by the professionalism of the new host, a brother whom I placed my full trust and who delivered very brilliantly. I was awed by the creative nasheed performances, which departed from the last few years’ style by lowering the intensity the hadra and increasing the spirit of the song. I was excited by the guest speaker’s (the Bencoolen Mosque Imam) analytical bayaan on how the Prophet s.a.w.’s miracles are actually all reflections and the total sum of all the earlier prophets’ miracles, even though they are underplayed in the Holy Book.

Overall, I was uplifted by the entire programme of the afternoon, which was short and simple, but very substantial and impressive in terms of the talents that dwell in the madrasah. I’m very proud of all the brothers and sisters who made it a big success, alhamdulillah.

I’ve always been proud to be in the madrasah since the first days I joined the class in 2002. Jalsa was my mentor then, being a pioneering member for 8-plus years, and wearing a sarong on the first day I came for clas. There were several folks of my age group back then. But due to National Service and other commitments, that age group became smaller and the pool of children aged 9 to 11 increased manifold.

In spite of that, the madrasah’s high standard in terms of “doing the job” during an event has been constant, in no small contribution by the charismatic and unforgettable Ustaz of the madrasah. In fact, he is the focal point of reference for tens of youths in Telok Blangah, who form a low-lying but closely-knit network of brothers and sisters. Of course, many of them may be now married with children or taking other courses in life, but the Al Amin madrasah will always be a part of their (hopefully) cherished memories. I guess the maulid also hopes to reunite them to catch up on old times.

I shall now end of this very Primary 6 essay-sounding post with the all-famous last line:
The maulid event was indeed a fun and memorable one.

PS. The 10 km Mizuno run in the morning was a run to reckon with. The slopes at Mt Faber were too much for my spartan legs to withstand, so I walked and took photos. Two of them are in this post.