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Every Friday afternoon at the Central Mosque, shortly after the family counseling programme 'Al Usrah', the Imam and his 11-year old son would go out into the town and hand out the booklet The Path to Paradise with other Islamic books.
But this Friday the sky was overcast and as soon as the prayers got over, rains began to pour. Suddenly the temperature dipped and chill began to penetrate the bones.
The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes said, 'Ok, dad, I'm ready! It is time to go out.'
The old imam peered out of the window to the sky and said: 'Son, it's very cold outside and it's raining.'
'But Dad, aren't people still going to hell, even though it's raining? Could we brook any delay?, the boy asked.
'Son, I am not going out in this weather', the imam replied and allowed the boy to proceed on his weekly mission.
'Be careful son,' he cried.
'Thanks, Dad!', they exchanged glances.
The lad walked about the streets of the town going from door to door and handed over a set of pamphlets to whomever he met in the street.
Soaked and chilled to the bones after two hours of roaming through the streets, he had the last booklet in his hand. But there was no taker in sight. The street bore a deserted look.
He turned towards the first home he saw on his left, climbed the flight of steps and rang the doorbell. There was no response. He pressed it even harder. But in vain. There was no one to respond from inside. He now began to bang the door with his fist.
He waited for some time. Something was counseling him against going away. He rang again and this time the door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway was an elderly lady with a melancholic face. She softly asked, 'What can I do for you, son?'
With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up his world, the lad said, 'Ma'am, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that Allah really loves and cares for you. Have these pamphlets and find out the path to happiness for yourself.”
'Thank you, son! And God Bless You!' said the old woman and he could hear the door shutting behind him as he left.
The next Friday a frail woman stood up in the back row as the Imam invited queries after the Family counseling session.
'No one in this gathering knows me. I've never been here before.
You see, before last Friday I was not a Muslim, and thought I could be. My husband passed away some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world. Last Friday, being an intensely cold and rainy day, I was sinking into the depths of despair. I had fastened a rope from the ceiling, made a loop around my neck and was about to leap off the chair beneath me. A sudden ringing of bell and banging of the door stopped me in my tracks.'
I loosened the loop and started for the front door. When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes, for there stood a lad in my front porch with the most radiant and angelic face.'
His words 'Allah really loves and cares for you' hit me like a bolt. Then this booklet The Path to Paradise lit the lamps of hope in my heart that had long lain in slumbers.'
As the little angel vanished into the cold and rain, I closed the doors. But the book opened new doors of hope on me. I told to myself, why not explore the new vistas of hope. The booklets changed my world in the span of a week. I no longer needed that rope and the chair.'
I am thankful to that little angel and my God who saved me from the eternal life in hell in the nick of the moment.'
As the frail woman's laboured sentences sank among the audience, shouts of Allah o Akbar rent the air.
Imam-Dad descended from the pulpit, reached the front row where the little angel was seated.... He took his son in his arms and sobbed inconsolably. It was only he knew why he cried.
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