Every evening at the appointed hour after the golden sun is engulfed by the vast ocean, the marble minaret echoes carrying the call to prayer in the summer breeze. The shining domes pointing their fingers to the sky, open up reflecting the vaults of heaven singing melodies of God’s names. The god-fearing and the god-trusting all assemble as one, through the pillars of marble cravings peace enters their souls. Inscriptions in ornate calligraphy decorate the walls inside out, it’s like fuelling your spirit with the necessary food and water it needs without a grain of doubt. You come here to strengthen your faith, you go to ask for forgiveness, some come to test the waters while other pray to give up the hate.
Builders of this beautiful mosque knew where they drew inspiration from; and they made her static in a timeless dimension. She never asked for the love of the sun, nor the calmness of the moon light, she didn’t wish on the shooting stars nor complained to the unfair heavily skies. She took every pain and tear from the haters who kept her awake every night. But when she did raise her hands up to her prayer, what do you think she asked for? Through every single day she raised her hands to the direction of the sun and prayed: For her name to be taken with the one who gave her breath, the du’a in the air was the only one who knew how much she cared.