IB (grandson) had come after his usual period, a visit to his father every two weeks, coming in the evening on Friday, and going back Sunday evening. He is going lax, not saying his prayers, with no father at home to enforce rules since Son’s divorce last year. IB doesn’t gets up for his morning prayer. He says he no longer does it at home.
Son’s goes the easy way out — leave the unwelcome task of waking up IB (make him say his prayers) to mother, as left to her she will take care of it. Son himself rushes to the mosque near by.
Here is what happened the first time Grandma (that’s me) goes for the attack. She doesn’t want to be a bad guy enforcing rules, and such things. She would like to be a sweet person in the grand children’s memories (sigh), but what can she do?
I dawdle every step on the way to IB’s bed, and try to wake him. Nothing much happens. I go back to my room to complete my prayer, which I had partly done, as the white thread in the sky is slipping over the black one, and time for the Fajr (morn) prayer will soon be over. I feel guilty over my failure before God, while I say my own prayer.
The second time: Son as usual rushes out, on his way to the mosque calling, “Mama please wake IB so that he should say his Fajr prayer”.
This time Grandma has worked out a strategy. “IB please wake up”.
I wait for a while, “Please hurry, the prayer time is getting over”.
No movement still.
Okay, I finally say, “If you’re not going to say your prayer, I’m confiscating your IPad for the whole day”.
IB gets up, goes to the washroom to wash his face, arms, and feet, in preparation for the prayer, gets back on the prayer mat, and the morn prayer is offered to the One God in whom our belief exists.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.