بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْم
The day was getting colder. The sun seemed to be silent while winter wind continued to pierce the body; though hat, hoody, gloves, and jacket make me look like a robot. Even more terrible is the fact we have to perform ablution in the open space. If the wind easyly piercing the bones then no need to ask what sensation that comes when tap water flows in the body.
“I prefer tayamum (performing ablution by clean dust).” Zeki said.
All of us were confused, if the tropical people of Indonesia desperately withstand freezing climate are willing to perform ablution; so why reluctant this Turks?
The inner part of the mosque offers not only warmth to the body but also to the soul. Personally, prayer is not just a duty to be fulfilled. This worship is also a means to close ourselves to The Creator and Regulator of the universe; also to ask consul of each problem that we face. “Iyyaaka na’budu wa Iyyaaka nastaiyn. Only to You we worship and only to You we ask for help.”
After prayer i sat for a while to unwind. The wide red carpet protects the lower part of the body from cold stone floor. Dozens of little lights from the giant candlestick above are illuminated those who pray; the mosaic of brown flowers on the ceiling is too dear to miss. Just one thing I regret; that not everyone goes to the mosque built in 1609 AD to perform the prayer. Some are just busy taking pictures and then back out. Fortunately, in the mosque which although called blue mosque but not painted blue, the tourists are only given a narrow space to take pictures. Only about two meters from the entrance was a brown wooden fence that stretched from side to side. Unlike room to take pictures, an office on the right side of the mosque seemed deserted although many people were passing by in front of it. The room is an Islamic center, where people can seek consultation any topic related to Islam.
Soon I and the pilgrims gathered at a the meeting point. Almost everyone had gathered except Mrs. Erni and Granny Ema. Zeki and I split to circle the mosque but traces of both were not found. When we returned to the meeting point, the person we were looking for had been standing among the other pilgrims.
“I thought everybody has gone.” Said Mrs. Erni, “It’s three o’clock but no one. Could it be they already in Hagia Sofia?”
“It’s only three o’clock! Our commitment was gathered here at three-fifteen.” Mrs. Anis argued.
We left the Sultan Ahmet Mosque. Far away from the mosque I stopped to look at the non-blue mosque. Large domes of gray as though piled in the middle while six tall slender towers towering into the sky. “It is not in vain that workers spend seven years to construct her. To this day she remains beautiful. Sultan Ahmed may be proud. “I told myself.