Holiday (Muharram)

A late teh by Masjid India on the way back to the hotel. The gathering at Kader had been unappealing and resulted in a short sit after lunch after the last of the newspaper. It was still taking some time coming to terms with the different political snares, the ructions among the newly formed government, more murders still that appeared to have been linked to the financial scandals, concoctions from the former PM and his hot-shot lawyer finangling matters. Tedious a good deal of it, but once you were on the scent it did need to be pursued. The random drops of rain on this occasion were read correctly, the fall holding off couple of hours. Another Tamil place on the lane leading to the mosque a hundred metres off. Their halia was far from the mark there, but the long bench facing the lane compensated and they had bananas on the tables to top-up after the light lunch, as well as boiled eggs and some kind of fried savouries. An old granddad who came to take a seat opposite was only a few degrees off the Soeharto mould, not unusual here of course, where the murderous kleptocrat was often reflected on the streets. Had the old setan needed to hide out somewhere in the region like Karadjic in Serbia, it would not have been difficult. The day was a designated holiday here in the true sense of the word, etymologically speaking: it was the first day of the Islamic New Year, the first day of Muharram. A few days before a report in the newspaper had mentioned the expectation during Muharram: from memory one was supposed to steer clear of any dispute or argument during the month, practise humility and devote oneself to prayer and deeper contemplation of the hereafter, it may have been. After Ramadan Muharram was the second most holy month in Islam. Possibly this was the reason for the lack of festive colour on the streets. The streets were largely vacant and quiet; it had been only the closure of the banks that confirmed it was indeed the designated public holiday that had been reported. One striking sign of festivity had been found within the newly re-modeled grounds of old Masjid Jamek behind the former parliament and the padang. A few days earlier in the middle of Chinatown a large Hindu temple had finally been passed. Over the weeks on this visit the thought had occurred where were they hiding the Hindu worship in the centre there. A dozen tourists were gathered at a kind of cloakroom beside the entry where wraps were being distributed before entrance was permitted. On the river side at Jamek the grounds had been incorporated into the beautification of the banks; further up-river by ABC Resto the works were at a more rudimentary stage. Here by Jamek the setting was complete. New tiles and paving had been married with the stone of the mosque and stretched right down to the water’s edge, where a dozen spouts gushed jets into the middle of the river. Across that area a group of young women attired in layers of blood red paced like dancers over the steps and down onto the lower level toward the water for friends with cameras. They no doubt took turns taking each other’s poses. Here too smaller iterations of the “supertrees” had been introduced by the designers, such as featured in Singapore’s wondrous Gardens by the Bay. (These shapely concrete sculptures had first appeared in Japan and Korea; now they were proliferating in the region just as the last of the jungle and forest was being logged and converted to palm.) Over one of the lunches with Mahshushah on this trip she had mentioned that she had still not prayed at Masjid Jamek, the provision there being inadequate it seemed for women. (Reports had some mosques in the region continuing to shoo away women.) The girls on the steps and across the paving might easily have been part of a dance ensemble; they had shopped together for their garments and seen filmic and song sequences online. Likely advertising and TV used this newly re-modeled stage; the churches, shrines, temples and now mosques were going the same way. Along the walk up from Chow Kit one heard religious music in various forms issuing from the shops, none of which could compare with the reach of the muezzin at the Pakistani Mosque by the market. Some mornings one slept through this man’s fajr and then awaited the next occasion. The calls later in the day were given by others.