The time to visit Mosque Road is during Ramzan. Generally speaking, Mosque Road is as soulless a place of commercial venture as any other road in Bangalore. Shops fill the horizon as far as the eye can see, brightly coloured shops filled with ugly and useless things, populated by indifferent, uncaring people. The mosque itself is still and empty and the smooth tarred roads that run past it like black rivers are pathways to the halls of the dead. Although the roads are full, there is no life to be seen anywhere.
All this changes during Ramzan. Suddenly, every face assumes an expression of intelligence and joy. The mosque seems to raise its smooth green domes higher to the sky, and the faithful surge through its doors like a warm, laughing hurricane. Almost overnight, the dull, Americanized shops that usually blot the face of the road are covered up, and their tasteful, boring advertisements disappear, to be replaced by smoky tents and lurid advertisements that scream excitedly, in wonderfully clashing colours, of haleem and biryani.
Words cannot describe the atmosphere of jubilation that engulfs the street at this time, the happiness engendered by the sight of smoke, rising like incense, from thousands of grills, or the wonderful sounds of a hundred kadais, all filled with sizzling oil. It is as bright and warm as the slender, fragrant grains of rice in the mutton biryani. Sweetness and light are the specialties of Ramzan, a savoury garnish for the kebabs and rolls at no additional charge.
This is the reason why I am firmly for inter-religious harmony. If the Muslims ever tried to leave Bangalore, I would beg them with tears in my eyes to stop and reconsider. How would life in this city go on without their contributions to it? Their kindness? Their helpfulness? Their mutton biryani? Fundamentalists and intolerant people should stop and consider these things, and then hang their heads and repent of their foolishness. Happy Ramzan, everybody! Peaceful fasting to all, and to all a full night.
All this changes during Ramzan. Suddenly, every face assumes an expression of intelligence and joy. The mosque seems to raise its smooth green domes higher to the sky, and the faithful surge through its doors like a warm, laughing hurricane. Almost overnight, the dull, Americanized shops that usually blot the face of the road are covered up, and their tasteful, boring advertisements disappear, to be replaced by smoky tents and lurid advertisements that scream excitedly, in wonderfully clashing colours, of haleem and biryani.
Words cannot describe the atmosphere of jubilation that engulfs the street at this time, the happiness engendered by the sight of smoke, rising like incense, from thousands of grills, or the wonderful sounds of a hundred kadais, all filled with sizzling oil. It is as bright and warm as the slender, fragrant grains of rice in the mutton biryani. Sweetness and light are the specialties of Ramzan, a savoury garnish for the kebabs and rolls at no additional charge.
This is the reason why I am firmly for inter-religious harmony. If the Muslims ever tried to leave Bangalore, I would beg them with tears in my eyes to stop and reconsider. How would life in this city go on without their contributions to it? Their kindness? Their helpfulness? Their mutton biryani? Fundamentalists and intolerant people should stop and consider these things, and then hang their heads and repent of their foolishness. Happy Ramzan, everybody! Peaceful fasting to all, and to all a full night.
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