Perfumed

Before I started attending Friday Prayers at the mosque I had no idea about the place of perfume in Islam. I found out something of this one memorable day when, to my enormous surprise, I found myself daubed with a fair amount of the stuff on the way into prayers. I returned home rather perplexed, and it took the missus to enlighten me that there was nothing terribly iffy, or personal, about my experience and that getting a fair helping of perfume was quite a common phenomenon when visiting a mosque.

After that I found myself on the receiving end of similar doses on odd occasions, though by no means regularly. However, since I've been attending the mesjid at Clementi it's pretty much every Friday that the elderly pakcik on the door makes sure my right hand, or arm, becomes enticingly aromatic, and remains so for the afternoon. Today the aroma is still strong as we approach the late evening. I think today I got a double helping.

As far as I can figure this out the tradition relates to a wonderful hadith in which the Prophet - peace be upon him - said that God had placed love in his heart for three things of this lower world: women, perfume and prayer. Isn't that lovely? Tradition has it that his favourite perfume was essence of rose - and, of course, the rose is frequently used as a symbol for the Prophet himself.

I've now come to rather look forward to being scented, though I do wonder if the kids I come into contact with on Friday afternoons when I'm back at work ever catch a whiff and, rightly, wonder.