Down there in the urban centres one gets almost nothing whatever of the old stuff—god, the moral codes, death & the after-life. In these communities all that’s ever present. Imagine, so many prostrating themselves FIVE times EVERY day, without fail often. The other day one young friend escorted the author to a famous old saint’s tomb down by the docks—surrounded, incidentally, by dirty great towers, J P Morgan, Westin, &etc. Saints are present to us Muslims you know, P, quoth Zee. Oh yeah. Chatting, we came to the contentious matter of the combining of prayers; ie. Nos 3 & 4 together, say, cos you were pressed for one reason or another. Zainuddin with his relaxed attitude to such outward observances commonly did that, the young woman was told. Nazeera gave a pitying look, taking care to remain respectful, as she knew of the esteem in which the old Sufi friend was held. Impossible to imagine the difference compared to down there. Dark side of the moon.
NB. Another excerpt from an email exchange with a friend in Oz.
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