Approaching the end of Ramadhan I suddenly got the urge to spend a night at the biggest mosque in Indonesia(or in East Asia), the Istiqlal Mosque. It is quite common for Muslims to spend nights during Ramadhan, especially towards the end, and during the odd nights (nights before the fasting days counts for some odd numbers, I don’t know if you get it:p) in a mosque and keeps oneself awake, because it is believed that one of those nights has a value of more than a thousand months.
This isn’t the first time for me to do such thing. Once a couple years ago, before I left for Japan I guess, I stayed overnight with three friends (or two?) in At Tien, a beautiful mosque located in the Indonesian Miniature Park. The memory has surprisingly become very blurry for me, so that’s why I decided to write it down this time so that I would at least have the record written if not in my mind. Generally though I can still remember the feeling I got in the At Tien and that’s why I couldn’t help but to compare both experiences. The At Tien night met at least my general idea of an I’tikaf night (that is what Muslims called the stay overnight in mosque thing). We came for a prayer gathering led by a rising young cleric known for his soul-touching approach of enchanting holy words, and stayed until dawn afterwards. There were many peoples attended the gathering but I nevertheless got a couple of solemn and contemplative moments.
The Istiqlal night is quite another experience, but don’t rush to judge that it is the worse. I would describe the place as a perfect icon to be the city’s landmark. Located at the very heart of Jakarta and next to National Monument, the surrounding, had we had better condition of pollution and sanitation, may give a heart pounding gaze to anyone. A river (unfortunately not a clean one at the moment) is flowing at one side and a train railway (not yet a monorail nor an MRT one) is passing over at the other side. The mosque is astutely placed right in front of the big beautiful Cathedral. This placement gives a beautiful symbolic meaning of a peaceful plurality (that I believe our country had traditionally had it and hopefully able to regain it if it ever diminishes). Now the more concrete condition I found that night. Many people must be attending night prayers during Ramadhan nights (Taraweh), especially in a big mosque like Istiqlal, so it is of no surprise for me to find such a big crowd there. But the number of people staying over was nevertheless unanticipated for me. Several thousands of people I guess did not leave after the Taraweh, and so the first level was full of people. Some were really doing prayers but not less of them were just lying or sleeping. Then I found out that actually many people never leaves the mosque at all. It is always common that a mosque should be open for anyone, mostly like travelers taking rests, whether they cannot afford a place to rent of simply choose to stay there for more religious reason. It therefore cannot be made forbidden to homeless ones dwelling in it. However, having a view of people washing clothes in the mosque’s bathrooms is quite uncomfortable for me. That night, instead of striving for silent moments to feel the spirituality, I decided to let go my feeling and just ‘enjoyed’ my presence there without hope to get any particular feeling.
After following a seemingly forever prayers (there I realized how praying is a tough ritual when you don’t get the soul of it), it came the time to have the late supper before starting the fasting of the following day. The announcement politely requested people to have the supper on the ground floor to avoid loitering the praying place. I glanced around and saw many people did not bother to leave the floor and just eat there. I momentarily hesitated whether to go down or stay. A lady with a stiff look and voice grumbled around about how ignorant it is to disregard the announcement and eat at supposedly sacred place. So I went down, alone since my friend did not move when I tried to wake her cautiously, and walk around a bit to find a decent space on the floor to eat. I finally sat beside a smoking guy, right next to a door, just enough distance from trash bins. I was consciously grasping my surrounding while I ate. Thoughts are floating my mind. The night sky was not bright nor didn’t I see any star (contrary to the description of the Thousand Month Night we hope to witness). It was grey. People around me were indifferent to each other. Some were notably homeless, some were collecting plastics from the trash bins. I was thinking I must have been experiencing the most meaningful late supper I ever had. The feeling of blessing and fortune overflows my mind and heart as I realize how lucky I am not to experience homeless nights by force.
I might not necessarily meet the Night of a Thousand Months but that night surely gave me almost the same luxury as one.
