I sat quietly, after the Iman had finished the Fard prayers. The Masjid was in a hustle with the ladies joining the Saf before the Taraweeh began. Pretty soon there was a line of chairs extending left and right. I was engrossed in Azkaar, when a young girl in her twenties tapped on my shoulder. She motioned me to make space, so she could avail the last available spot in the Saf for her chair. I did so and smiled – a friendly exchange and acknowledgement, before shifting my attention to the sermon.
People were still pouring in, and soon all stacks of chairs were gone. Many of the elderly women approached the young girl beside me, assuming that she may not be needing the chair. From the corner of my eyes, I saw her politely refuse each time. The women seemed somewhat offended, with their resentfulness evident from their muttering.
She seemed agitated; however, each time we had an eye contact, we would smile.
The sermon came to an end and everybody stood up for Taraweeh prayers. Just as the Iman had called the Takbeer, someone shoved past me, trying to get the chair from behind the young girl.
I was slightly distracted, as she kept shifting herself, restless and uncomfortable with her chair gone.
Once again, the sermon resumed, before the next twelve Rakats would be offered.
What I witnessed next was heart breaking. The young girl talked to the woman, who had taken her chair. Almost embarrassed, she politely explained that she had a few medical issues, which affected her ability of standing for prolonged time periods in prayer. More so, it was difficult for her to keep guard of the chair, since she was likely to be misunderstood, because she was young and appeared to be physically well. She apologized and left the congregation. The woman looked baffled, but, of course, she could not undo what had been done.
Though I attended the remaining prayers, my mind kept going back to this incident. It deeply concerned me how social expectations may be used to dismiss one’s rights. Besides, this is not the only case, as youngsters get often dismissed or their perspective is ignored, simply because they are inferior in age.
Prophet Muhammad (sa) taught us to respect the elders and to be kind to the youngsters.
While most of us have been raised to respect the elders, why do we forget that the youngsters ought to be respected, too? As a youngster, I wholeheartedly respect my elders, but I wish to see the same in return. If respect is not mutual, it creates the generation gap between the young and the elderly and affects their communication.
The Prophet (sa) said: “He who is not merciful to our youngsters and does not fulfill the rights of our elderly is not one of us.” (Abu Dawood)
Why do we forget that the Prophet (sa) loved the youth? He respected them, cared for them, and valued their opinions. In fact, he would take advice from Ali (ram), when he was as young as ten years old. The Prophet (sa) had his young companions accompany him to trade caravans and the everyday meetups. This is a conduct we need to adopt.
As the generation gap keeps widening today, we need to stay united. We need to be little more compassionate, loving, accommodating, and accepting to the elderly and the young alike.
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