Nazir Jahangir
I can only speak for myself; what do I have to do with others? I am convinced that my prayers are nothing more than a joke.
People often ask why, despite our constant acts of worship, our prayers remain unanswered.
My response is simple: we do not truly worship—we sin around the clock.
I do not lie. Our true deity is our own ego; we bow not before God but before our own desires. We worship our whims, our appetites, our stubbornness. What astonishes me is not the hardships we face, but the fact that they are far less than what we truly deserve for our arrogance, ignorance, and the way we exploit religion.
Just as I frequently move from one dwelling to another, I also change the mosques I visit. Most of the time, I pray at home, especially when I sincerely want my supplications to be accepted. It is then that I prefer solitude over congregations.
A few days ago, I visited a mosque for the congregational Zuhr prayer. After the prayer, the Imam began his sermon, delving into intricate theological discussions and intellectual musings. The congregation sat enthralled.
Kashmiris have a peculiar habit—they always respond with “Zaroor, Zaroor” (Certainly! Certainly!). No matter what a leader or preacher says, they chant in agreement, as if entranced. This tendency has earned them the nickname “Zaroor Zaroor.” It has also been the subject of numerous satirical writings, often providing ample material for humor. Our people are simple-hearted—perhaps the better word is gullible—falling into rapture at the slightest provocation. This very trait has been exploited time and again, and yet, they remain oblivious to how 150,000 of their own ended up in graves—or were put there.
Even the Almighty does not favor excessive simplicity, especially when it borders on foolishness and leads one astray. I fear that many of our people, in their naïveté, may—God forbid—end up as nothing more than fuel for Hell. For what else can be said of a nation so gullible that it might well be classified under ‘Foolishness’ in the Book of Deeds?
When humility descends into ignorance—when a man shows no interest in learning his faith, remains disconnected from it, neither studying nor understanding it—he becomes like a camel. And it is said about a camel, that even if it is led by a tiny mouse, it follows blindly.
Nevertheless, after the Imam concluded his sermon, the ever-eager worshippers rushed to shake his hand and seek his prayers. Once he had finished this ritual and was about to leave, I stepped forward and stopped him.
“Hazrat,” I said, “your words were profound, full of subtle nuances, rich in knowledge, eloquence, and rhetoric. Though much of it was beyond my understanding, I do not doubt the impact of your speech.
“But now, I ask you to look around this mosque—at its walls, to the left, right and front. Everywhere, calendars and prayer charts hang, each featuring the name of a business or an organization at the bottom. Under the pretext of religious charts, this mosque has been turned into an advertising platform. Neither you, nor the mosque’s management, nor even its trustees would allow such advertisements in your own homes. Yet here, in the house of God, you remain silent as it is turned into a marketplace. Don’t you think, God forbid, that this place of worship has been reduced to a billboard?”
I continued, “You stand here, eloquently delivering sermons, mesmerizing people with your rhetoric. But tell me, is this not a grave disrespect to the sanctity of God’s house?”
It is astonishing that even renowned Islamic institutions have used prayer schedules, supplication charts, and other religious materials as a pretext to turn mosques into advertising billboards for their organizations.
“In such mosques, can acts of worship truly be accepted? Can prayers here be answered? Can spiritual retreats (I‘tikaf) in such places be valid?”
The Imam sighed, acknowledging the truth of my words. “Yes, this is impermissible,” he admitted.
Two individuals standing beside him, out of sheer habit, once again exclaimed in admiration.
A few days later, I returned to the same mosque for the Zuhr prayer. The advertisements remained untouched—worse, another had been added.
At that moment, a well-known Kashmiri saying came to mind:
“The Mullahs have even found a way to make carrion permissible for themselves.”
(Mallav kermetch pan’ni baabat gaant halaal)
I respectfully and humbly pose a few more questions to our revered Ulema:
Are prayers valid in a mosque where, instead of individual electricity meters, electricity charges are paid at a flat rate? If yes, then kindly clarify: if an agreement is made for a 2-kilowatt connection, but the actual consumption far exceeds this limit, would that not be unlawful and Haraam? And if such a situation exists in any mosque, does it affect the validity of prayers offered there?
Furthermore, many mosques have installed four loudspeakers on their tall minarets, producing penetrating sounds that severely disturb and distress the seriously ill in their homes. This also affects schoolchildren engaged in their studies and those performing Nawafil prayers or reciting the Quran in their homes. Why do our esteemed Ulema remain silent on this matter and not declare it Haraam?
I sincerely hope that my questions will not lead to a Hukm-i-Kufr being issued against me. If the practice of declaring disbelief upon those who simply pose questions continues, then most of Jannat’s space will remain empty—because all Nazir Jahangirs (God forbid) would be consigned to hell.
Take care.
Nazir Jahangir is a noted journalist and columnist
