We entered the mosque. I took off my shoes and put them on the shoes rack. We went through long corridor and entered the main hall where we pray. “Assalamu alaikum wa rohmatullohi wa barakatuh!” I greeted the masjid, as you do when you enter the house of Allah.
It was the 5th day of Ramadan. This evening around 7–8 brothers gathered to pray Ishaa, plus Taroveh.
“Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar,” — iqaamah called us to Salat-ul-Ishaa…
The eldest and the most knowledgable among us stepped forward and led the prayer.
Although he didn’t have such a beautiful recitation style, he was the most knowledgable one religously [which makes me confident and focused during prayer]. We finished Ishaa.
After a few minutes, everybody lined up in the middle of the mosque. Shoulder-to-shoulder. The old and knowledgable imaam pushed the younger one to be our imaam for taroveh. “You have a beautiful voice,” he said as if insisting, smiling. “Let us hear your voice tonight.”
Indeed. He had one of the most beautiful recitations I’ve ever heard “LIVE”.
We prayed Taroveh. 2-rakaat. Then again 2-rakaat. Then again 2…
In the middle of the prayer, the imaam suddenly stopped for a second. He started…
