Watching humans being human

PUBLIC places where human beings are brought face to face, by force of circumstance, with one another provide a wonderful opportunity for observation of human behaviour.

Public transport, lifts, queues, waiting rooms and any of a range of gatherings are filled with possibilities for anyone with a keenness for watching humans being human.

Yes, you need not be a psychologist, philosopher or any kind of professional analyst to indulge in this pastime. And you can certainly be entertained, educated and even enriched. All one needs is a little talent for reading body language and the games people play.

For example, you can observe the demeanour of an old lady standing in a bus amid seated young men. Or you can check out the reaction of fellow passengers in a lift offended by the sweat odour of a worker.

Or the silent annoyance of other people with an oaf expropriating places in a queue. Or the hypochondriac nattering endlessly about a cold to a terminally ill fellow patient. There are ways and means of rebuking and admonishing the unmindful of such minor sins.

The mosque is a fascinating place to observe behaviour. You see anything from the hilarious to the profound. Even as I reflect on my devotions I am distracted by the foibles of others. And I wonder if there is no edification in these moments. Are they the meaningless ruminations of a wayward soul who's neglecting the conventions of formal devotions? I wonder.

So I sit there half-seeing, half-listening to the mullah rattling imprecations on the no-good Muslims of today, but noticing, from the corner of my eye, a plump young man leaning against the column, one leg extended and the foot of the other tucked firmly beneath his groin.

He is scratching and picking dead skin cells off his athlete's foot-afflicted toes, leaving small, but distinct piles of debris on the crimson carpet. Yet, he does not seem pre-occupied with this activity, for he is dozing off: half a mind on his itching toes, half a mind in sweet slumber. Fully mindless of the mullah and the reproachful eyes and expressions of disgust of those watching him.

As the mullah ascends the minbar, droning the second khutbah, the man slips into full slumber, reciprocating a subdued drone of his own.

He wakes up, almost automatically, when the mullah concludes the sermon with wa aqeemus salaah and the entire congregation rises for prayer.

Perhaps it is a bit late for him to rush off to partake of ablution since his repose had nullified his wudu', so he seems intent on joining the congregation for the two rakaats behind the imam.

Unfortunately, as he stands up, he finds himself overcome with the pressures of flatulence and, I suppose, does not have the presence of mind to hold, so those of us behind him are directly served a dose of post-sahur digestive gas. It is clearly audible and the sharply punctuated tone renders the source of the emission unmistakable.

Embarrassed, he quickly vacates his place and leaves, taking the shortest route to the nearest door and heads for the ablution facility, thus evoking mild consternation among a few worshippers ready for the takbiratul ihram. Of course, he is not seen back in the same position.

What strikes me most is the look on his face as he hastens his portly frame between the ranks. I read the mortification, the remorse and the penitent smile as he furtively looks up to see his way clear to the door. In a few moments there is an effusion of shame, a penance for 45 minutes of disrespect and disgrace.

But let's go right past the disrespect and disgrace of his conduct and focus on the moment of embarrassment.

The fall from grace is also the road to humility. But if we are not transformed by the fall, it's simply the road to humiliation. This young man seems truly humbled and his body language communicates that.

It is as humbled beings that true knowledge of our failings enable us to grow spiritually, to attain self-realisation. The fruit of the tree of knowledge offers us a knowing of our own shame, a deep awareness that we are fallible and therefore should be humble. But this does not happen without another fundamental knowing: that when we fall, we fall towards the mercy of Allah, the Most Merciful.

Without Allah's limitless mercy there is no point in repentance, no point in doing good. Evil will then become meaningful and chaos will be the order of the day. And that is not Allah's plan.

Back in the mosque. It is not only the face of the disgraced young man I observe. I also observe those who observe him. Their faces too, tell their own stories. Some are amused, some indifferent. Many are self-righteous and judgmental.

No-one shows mercy or forbearance. They have not understood this simple truth: as natural as it is to fall from grace and then show remorse, so natural is it to be merciful to those who are truly repentant.

To forgive is not just divine. It's being truly human, as human as the Divine had made us. He is absolutely merciful. Our mercy is a reflection of His. We are the best relative manifestations of Divine qualities and Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) is the best exemplar among us of these qualities.

The 99 names of Allah describe His absolute majesty. These very names are the ones we adapt to name our children, showing that in every absolute Divine quality there is a relative human quality that we strive for.

And Mercy is one of them.

The writer is a Cape Town media activist.The Brunei Times