What better place to end the month of Ramadan than with one of the beacons for the Muslim community in New York, the Islamic Center at NYU.

This is the on campus center for  Muslim students at New York University, but under the leadership of Imam Khalid Latif,  this place has bloomed into one of the most popular hotspots for New York City’s entire Muslim community. Khalid Latif works double duty as chaplain for NYU and the New York City police department. He is one of the few Muslim leaders in this country that “gets it.” But more on that later.

The mosque is attended primarily by Muslim college students and young professionals working in the city, but during the jam packed Friday prayers you’ll also see plenty of older and younger Muslims attending the services.

Speaking from previous experience on a much smaller scale, running a Muslim college organization is no easy task. Because by the time leaders get in their groove, they graduate and the next batch of leaders have to start over. But NYU is different. Rather than catering to just college students, they know that in order to build a successful Muslim institution, you have to be welcoming to the entire community.

Right now the Islamic Center is located in the basement of this church by the NYU campus. We had to wait about 10 minutes to go inside because the church was hosting an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting there.

There weren’t many people at the mosque tonight, but understandably so. It’s a Saturday and most of the students have gone home for the weekend since Eid Al-Fitr, the holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan, is tomorrow.

My little brother goes to NYU, so it was nice getting the chance to spend one last iftar with him. We went inside and helped them roll out a few carpets as the time for iftar was coming in.

To break my fast, once again I rocked it old school, a date and a glass of water.

After prayer, we ate dinner. The food was catered from one of my favorite greasy restaurants, Kennedy Fried Chicken. It’s a huge halal food chain here in New York. It’s halal and open late, can’t go wrong with it. Tonight I had a philly cheesesteak, cheesy tater tots and an orange (to give my meal an ounce of healthiness). Epic yum.

Overall there were about 20 people there tonight, just about all students. But during the week, NYU usually gets around 80-100 people for iftar. Friday prayer is always jam packed. Khalid Latif usually leads the prayer here, and his Friday talks are amazing. Plus all the friday sermons are podcasted, so feel free to load up your iPod with these goodies.

Like I mentioned earlier, Khalid Latif “gets it.” The church basement where the mosque is located is only a temporary place for the Islamic Center. But what Khalid and the Muslims envision for their new location is beyond amazing. In two years the new Islamic Center will open on the NYU campus as an official part of the university. It will be more than just a traditional mosque. It will be a full fledged spiritual center catering to all the needs of the Muslim community. Aside from a room to pray, it will feature ta lounge for people to socialize and computer labs for students to get their work done.

To me that is what a mosque should be, a community center. Obviously it’s primarily a place to pray, but for someone like me in their 20s, it should also be a place where I can hang out with my friends.

I’ve had the blessing of doing a lot of traveling in my short lifetime and I often think about where the Muslim community as a whole is headed in this country. When I come to places like the Islamic Center at NYU, it brings a smile to my face because I know we’re heading in the right direction.

Sunday is Eid  and we have a series of special posts for you. Until then, Eid Mubarak

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“How’s my hair?”

The most sensible question to ask the residents close to the Mosque of Islamic Brotherhood (MIB), clearly. Today, Aman and I were going to be on NY1, a local news network, for our 30 mosques project. Since I have a tendency to look  awkward in front of a camera I wanted to cross my t’s and dot my i’s before they turned on. Aman, on the other hand, was made for this (See: Example 1 and Example 2.)

(TO WATCH THE NY1 INTERVIEW, CLICK HERE)

The Mosque of Islamic Brotherhood is in the heart of Harlem. The center was founded in 1964 by a close student of Malcolm Shabazz, Shaykh ‘Allaama Tawfiq. After the passing of the Shaykh, the assistant imam of the masjid stepped up – Imam Talib. Fast forward 20 years and you have one of the most important and historic Islamic centers in the US. Which is the reason why we had NY1 follow us today, and why my hair had to come correct — I felt like I had to represent.

The sidewalk that is under the center’s jurisdiction is painted green. Yusef, the communications director of MIB (pictured above), told me that they painted the sidewalk green so people knew not to drug deal, fight or loiter in that area. I heard of this infamous green sidewalk when I was living in Houston. I remember a story (which I can’t confirm) where one local was roaming Harlem intoxicated almost about to faint. When he came by the green sidewalk, he knew better than to collapse there, so he walk walked passed it and then fell.

Before Maghrib, Aman and I gave a brief interview outside the center to NY1.

The call to prayer was given and we all headed out to the lobby to break our fast. Imam Talib led the congregants in a supplication before we broke our fast. Aman, being Aman, ate his dates before the dua.

After Maghrib, Imam Talib brought us into his office to talk about our project.

Many community members came in and out of the office bringing important business issues to the attention of the Imam. One brother wanted a poster approved, another inquired about food, while a third updated him on how some of the events of the day went. It was clear that Imam Talib wasn’t the imam that just led the prayer, he led the community.

There was an aqiqah, or Islamic celebration of the birth of a child(ren), at the mosque so the food was provided by a family celebrating the birth of their daughter and son. Today’s menu: Rice, Salad, catfish, chicken, potato salad and some baked ziti. The catfish was made just the way I like it, not too greasy and plenty of lemon zing to it.

The majority of the congregants knew one another and all played a role in the mosque’s development. One brother served as the security guard outside, another served as the de facto historian – taking photos wherever Imam Talib told him. A group of sisters led dawah efforts and the weekend school program. It was clear from the get-go, Imam Talib and his congregation are establishing a model of how an Islamic center in America should run.

After running many errands, Yusef came in and sat with us in the office. I was amazed by the general respect and reverence the congregants had for Imam Talib and raised this point with Yusef. Turns out Imam Talib is one of the oldest community members at this mosque. He was the Assistant Imam for about 13 years before becoming the lead Imam  20 years ago. Imam Talib paused for a second and contemplated on this. While the Imam reflected on his history and his journey to stewarding this historic mosque and community, I thought back on my history and path to the present.

MIB is a predominantly African American space. There is a cultural familiarity that permeates the center and congregants that is distinctly “American” but at the same time authentically “Muslim.” As someone raised in the South Asian community, there aren’t many mosques I’ve grown up in or been to that have reached that kind of cultural ease. This brought up one question that has always loomed in my head – albeit a very cheesy one – how do we maintain our religious values in this country that doesn’t lead to dilution or the awkward choice of piety versus “prosperity” (both material and immaterial)? I dreaded going to the mosque as a child because all I ever saw were people who spent days and nights there, barely working or providing for their large families. Or, on the flip side, I would see those who would be successful financially, but would divorce themselves from the Muslim community. The existential question most Muslims in America ask: how do we strike the balance?

After we finished our dinner, Imam Talib gave both Aman and me a CD of Qur’an recitation by Shaykh ‘Alaama Tawfeeq, his teacher. According to the Imam, it is one of the first recordings of a Qur’an recitation by an American Muslim. This was an updated, remastered CD. The original was of course released on vinyl. I looked through the updated liner notes written by Imam Talib and here’s the part that struck me the most:

My teacher, Shaykh-”Allama Tawif was not a qari [Quran reciter] by profession, nor a hafiz of the Qur’an (one who has memorized the entire Qur’an). When I asked him why he had done such a recording, he replied simply, “to show that it could be done.” This was a burning desire within him – to always demonstrate that the Islamic family of nations is composed of Muslims from all over the globe, including those born and raised in America.

And that’s it. The recitation didn’t come from a trained reciter, or the usual figure, but by someone who said, “Why not me?”

The balancing act. It can be done and is.

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Today we visited this new masjid that was established a couple of months back. Take two steps away from the bodega and you’ll miss it.

A brief dhikr took place before iftaar. The congregants at the masjid were incredibly hospitable. Everyone I walked by asked if I had enough orange juice, tea or coffee. The majority of the people were from West Africa and spoke both Walaf and Arabic. We were the only South Asians.

As we broke our fast with bread and butter, a lady asked, “what is your name?”

I replied, “Bassam.”

“Bachan? Like Amitabh Bachan”

It took me a second to realize she meant the legendary Bollywood heartthrob. We all laughed as she listed her favorite Indian movies

Dinner was going to be served after Isha prayers, but I had to get going. I promised them that next time I come I’ll make them a nice Pakistani dish and they are holding me to it.

On my way back, I started listing off all the different dishes I could make. Turns out I couldn’t make that many. Looks like I’ll head over to Patel Brothers in Jackson Heights and buy some daal.

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Today, I decided to stay in my neighborhood and visit Masjid Aqsa. The mosque is a couple of blocks south of my apartment on 116th and Frederick Douglas. The community is predominantly West African. It is said that this area also houses the majority of the Senegalese in New York.

Similar to other masajid in Manhattan, vendors surrounded the entrance selling everything from Madani Dates to Nike socks. One of the more interesting vendors sold dried fish.

In the prayer area, a man handed out apples and bananas before iftaar. Many congregants bought their own food and were setting it out. There was also a sizable female congregation separated by a curtain.

By the time we got to the masjid, the majority of the congregants were in the basement.

The basement was overcrowded, but everyone willingly made space for us latecomers. With an apple in one hand and a date in the other we broke our fast. The Maghrib prayer was led by one of the three Imams of the masjid. His recitation was so beautiful, I asked the person next to me where the Imam was from. He replied that he was from Burkina Faso. As he spoke, I grabbed my bag and was preparing to leave to grab some halal cheeseburgers. But the brother, Abdul Qaasim, insisted on us to stay and eat with him. In fact, after I was done with the sunnah prayers, I again tried to say my goodbyes when Abdul Qaasim grabbed me by the arm and led me to back to the basement. On the way down, he introduced me to the other Imam and requested one of the volunteers to take special care of us.

The hospitality during Ramadan has been unbelievable. There’s something in the air, and the weather only seems to get better.

—–

I wasn’t able to attend Taraweeh prayers at the mosque, but my friends that did said the sister’s area reached capacity and many were praying outside on the concrete. There is something to say about the comfort and confidence of Muslims in New York City. Sure, with the number of wierd things happening here — I once saw a man displaying korean poetry as he slept in a cardboard box — putting your forehead on concrete might just fall into the background.

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Today, Aman and I trekked out to Madina Masjid. It’s located in the heart of the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

The masjid sign outside reads, “Islam Is The Way. Read The Quran The Final Revelation.” An interesting sign for a predominantly upper middle class white neighborhood.

Similar to the 29th st. masjid, we were filed into the basement to break fast. Everyone sat shoulder to shoulder waiting for the adhaan to be called. Food was served before the prayers. The arrangement seemed odd at first, but it made logistical sense.

Everyone was sitting on top of one another in the small basement. One would think the congregants would get irritated fairly quick, but people seemed to laugh at the arrangment. Jolly sardines packed in a tin can.

A Pakistani man searched for rice in uneaten plates and left everything else untouched.

Eating food prior to prayer naturally leads to a large queue for wudu.

Thankfully, the prayer area easily accommodated all of us. The majority of the congregants are either passing by the neighborhood or work in proximity to the center. Many of the lectures that take place in the center are in Bangla. The masjid is also Tablighi Jamat friendly. In fact, I once ran into an uncle here from my hometown masjid in Houston.

As I left the masjid, a man stopped me and said, “Salam akh, I’m giving out free kufis.”

“Oh yeah?” I replied.

“Yep” He quietly examined my head and continued, “you know, the golden one would fit you perfectly.”

I was intrigued to see this golden kufi. Inside the prayer area a lonely stool sat with two kufis.

I asked myself if I could rock a golden kufi, maybe in a decade.

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This place provides refuge from all the posh fashion shops up and down Lexington Avenue in midtown Manhattan.

I broke my fast with some milk, dates and a plum.The people who go there consisted mainly of young professionals, who mostly work in the area. The person I sat next to was named Waleed and works for the investment group Barclays Capital. He’s a cool guy and is coming to my apartment soon to see if he can back up all his Guitar Hero smack talk.

After prayer, I was extremely tempted to try the Turkish restaurant next door to the mosque. But then I saw the Arabic food they were serving inside the mosque:

It was rice pilaf, pasta, salad and lemon chicken. Amazing. No seriously, amazing.

But the Turkish restaurant next door looked good too. Maybe I can go to it next time I’m in the area shopping for $700 jeans at Armani

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Wow. This mosque hiding behind the trees is believed to be the largest mosque in the NYC area. Its primarily funded by the Kuwaiti government.

Lined around the masjid gates were vendors and congregants waiting for iftaar.

This is also the first masjid in New York that resembles a traditional masjid.

There was a brief drought of dates which led everyone to attack the bananas. Thankfully, a new batch of dates appeared on the table with the accompaniment of milk.

Maghrib comes in and we still didn’t hear the adhaan. So when a congregant had enough guts to eat a date without hearing the adhaan, we all followed. It was the first time I ate a date at a mosque without the adhaan accompanying me.

The mosque provided food so we ate there as opposed to going to a restaurant. It was catered food from the infamous Kabab King.

We ran into our friend Rasul Miller and some of his buddies so we kicked it eating our food outside, cracking jokes and talking politics.

Outside of the mosque stood a Bangladeshi man who was selling vegetable and chicken samosas for a dollar.

Don’t be fooled by the little cart. Not only did he serve hot samosas, he had bangadeshi rice, bananas, shezan mango bottles and, of course, chai. All the ingredients of my mother’s iftaar pulled around Manhattan and plastered in gift wrapping paper.

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Today we went to the Malcom Shabazz Cultural Center on W. 116th Street in Harlem (the photo I took was crappy, so I borrowed one from our friends at Salatomatic.com). At one point in time this was a casino that soon became a full-fledged mosque dedicated to Muslim pioneer Malcom X.

The masjid volunteers kindly served us water with dates wrapped in foil. It was a very intimate gathering. They offered food to us, but we felt bad because we rolled up in there unannounced and didn’t want to freeload.

For dinner, Bassam and I ate at Tawaa, this Indian restaurant at 168th and Broadway. I had some chicken dosa- freakin amazing.

What made me laugh was the menu, the place is halal but the menu says “We served halal food.” As if one day they decided to call it quits on this whole halal thing.

Yes, I’m easily amused.

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I was in a hurry to get home today, so I ended up just going to the mosque on E. 110th Street, about two blocks from my house.

Afterwards, I went to the Halal Chinese restaurant nearby. I just moved to this neighborhood about a week or so ago, so it was my first time going to the restaurant. Pretty nice guys, I ordered the Singapore Mei Fun (its what I typically get at any carryout Chinese place, its rice noodles mixed with chicken, shrimp and beef). Yum.

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Tonight my friend Bassam Tariq and I came up with an insanely random idea: What if we prayed at a different mosque every single day for the month of Ramadan? Hence, this Web site was born.

Tonight we prayed at Masjid Rehman, located on West 29th Street and Broadway. The place was insanely jam packed, you should have seen how many taxi cabs were parked outside the place.

This is a true story: I was so cramped inside the masjid, that when I went down for sajdah (the prostration), some guy behind me had his head between my feet.

I didn’t realize that, so when I got up for jalsah (the sitting), I ended up sitting on his head. And it took me about two full seconds to realize the rock-hard cushion I was sitting on was someone’s head lol.

But hey, I actually love praying in mosques that are cramped. I dunno, to me there’s something beautiful about dozens of people swarming a place for the common goal of worship.

They gave everyone there free boxes of Desi food. It was pretty good, it had biryani, chicken tikka, kabob, roti and chick peas inside. Serious props goes to the people who made the food, which must have been for at least 200 people

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