The feeling of Waz Mahfils (Islamic sermons) is no longer the same as it was in childhood. Back then, when a Waz was organized at our village mosque, it felt like a grand festival for children. Preparations would start 15-20 days in advance, with rehearsals taking priority over mosque lessons. No child missed these rehearsals, which included practicing funeral prayers (Janaza), Eid prayers, reciting Ghazals, Qiraat, and various dialogues.
Two days before the Waz, everyone would get busy preparing the stage and decorating the mosque. Everyone, leaving aside their usual work and even meals, would focus entirely on making the venue look beautiful. On the day of the Waz, we would wake up early, bathe, and wear new clothes, just like on Eid.
The event was filled with competitions—Ghazals, Qiraat, and other performances—and there would be small stalls outside the venue, which felt like five-star hotels to us back then. For children, the idea of a five-star hotel didn’t exist, so we’d bring a little money, like on Eid, and buy sweets, betel leaves, pakoras, roasted chickpeas, papad, spicy snacks, and more. Since it was a winter event, no one bought ice cream.
Sometimes, fights broke out among kids, especially with our rivals. We’d even steal cucumbers from people’s crop field and eat them in secret. And once a year, during Waz Mahfil, we’d try smoking a bidi or cigarette, only to get caught and scolded by the elders.
Our only wish during those days was for famous speakers to come—those who could make everyone laugh. We didn’t understand the Hadith or religious teachings; we just wanted speakers with beautiful voices, those who could roast others, and those who were great at collecting donations. If the Waz continued throughout the night, it was like a dream come true for us. But eventually, around midnight, the elders would come and take us home, leading to a lot of crying.
The Waz Mahfil also brought special meals like meat to every household, and countless other little joys that only children could fully appreciate.
Now, as an adult, those childhood joys seem lost. The excitement of Waz Mahfil is no longer the same. I feel that a good Waz today should feature speakers who focus solely on meaningful messages, but the magic and innocence of those early days are gone.
To the children of today: leave your mobile phones, pause your digital distractions, and cherish these small moments of joy. One day, when you grow up, these memories will bring you immense comfort. I deeply miss those maktab (religious school) days. I know those times will never return, but these memories will remain etched in golden letters in my heart forever.
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