By BadruNisaa Yusuf
“Please remember me in your prayers, especially during the Tahajjud prayers,” a woman pleaded in an emotionally cracked voice, addressing every passenger she encountered as she nervously scanned through the Jalsa buses in search of any available seat.
It was a Thursday morning around 8 a.m., at the Ahmadiyya Mosque in Ibadan. The air buzzed with excitement as passengers settled into their buses, ready for the long journey to Abuja on the eve of the Jalsa Salana almost two decades ago. Just as final preparations were being made, a Lajna member suddenly appeared, catching everyone’s attention.
“Where’s my seat, sir?” she anxiously asked one of the members of the Transport Committee, as it seemed no seat had been reserved for her. “I’m sorry, ma. Your seat had been taken because you weren’t here at the stipulated time, and we couldn’t reach you on the phone,” the man explained. With teary eyes, the woman explained how she had arrived at the mosque very early but left briefly to get permission from her boss.
I was in my early teen years then, sitting next to my mum and keenly observing the incident, but the most intriguing part for me was the moment the woman requested prayers at the Jalsa Salana.
Yes, I had attended several Jalsas before then, and I never missed any of the Solats, especially Solatul Tahajjud, but I had never regarded the prayers at the Jalsa with the same weight the woman reflected in her request. I turned to my mum and asked, “Maami! Why is the woman requesting prayers at the Jalsa?”
My mum’s eyes widened in surprise, shocked that I didn’t understand how special a gathering the Jalsa Salana is. She replied, “Jalsa Salana is a blessed gathering initiated by the Promised Messiah, alayhi salam, and he prayed so much for all its participants.” She went on to share instances of her own prayers that were accepted at the Jalsa and I also overheard some Lajna members on the bus share their stories of answered prayers at the Jalsa.
It was at that moment I understood the gravity of the convention. It went beyond my perception of it as a reunion and celebration with family and friends. I realized it carried much more weight—a sacred place to seek solace and connect with Allah, unburden one’s soul, seek forgiveness for sins, and experience divine bliss.
Ever since then, I have always anticipated the coming of every Jalsa with a long list of thanksgiving and prayers to Allah, and I couldn’t wish for a better way to spend my Jalsa Salana.
Several years had passed by and I can’t recall the woman’s face nor her name but the lesson I learned from the experience remains evergreen in my memory.
