It was just another evening after office and I thought of picking up some Lebanese Chicken Shawarma rolls on my way home from a roadside (Trust me, they’re the best you can ever have in Baroda, at Tandalja Road). A child was struggling with shreds of chicken pieces from the Shawarma machine, while his parents were seated on plastic chairs near the tiny roadside stall.
The child was desperately trying to slice the Shawarma to perfection, so as to stuff them in Pita breads. With each new customer approaching and asking him to hasten, the child got more nervous, which was evident from his quivering limbs.
Suddenly, the Azaan from a nearby mosque seemed to calm down the impatient customers with its soothing sound. The child’s parents quickly rose up from their chairs. The father headed forth the mosque, while the mother lent a helping hand to the child still struggling with the chicken shreds. I picked up the rolls, wondering whose Namaaz must have been accepted by Allah.