Footprints in the Sand: Lessons from the Pious | Muftī Azeemuddin Ahmed | 03/04

Opening Invocation

Please kindly move forward and come close together, inshallah. Let's sit as close as possible, invoking Allah's mercy. May Allah enshroud our gathering here with His choicest blessings. May Allah allow this gathering to be surrounded by His angels. May Allah allow us to benefit in innumerable ways. Allahumma ameen.

Recap: Mawlānā Khalīl Aḥmad Sāḥibānpūrī and Taking Loans for Dīnī Work

Yesterday we were discussing the story of Mawlānā Khalīl Aḥmad Sāḥibānpūrī, rahmatullāhi alayh, and how he took on debt to be able to take care of, to be able to print and publish books and pass them out — especially Bahishtī Zīwar, which became a means of mass education in the subcontinent.

And from there, we went on a very long discussion on the fact that taking a loan for dīnī work is from the sunnah. And to be in debt for dīnī work — this is something we find in the stories of our pious predecessors. Not taking loans for material things, or taking loans for fulfillment of dunyā needs, especially dying with it — of course not. But the idea of doing it for ukhrāwī things, this is something we see.

So then from there I talked about — just in case you missed yesterday's — we talked about the aspect of how many times dīnī work happens, and sometimes people jump to conclusions, that if someone is doing something and is really passionate about it, then there has to be some huge financial incentive in it. Which is not necessarily the case. So we should not be quick to jump to conclusions thinking about how we would have acted. "Well, of course I would only do it if I had a financial obligation, or financial commitment, or financial gain in it. Why would this person be doing it?" No, not everyone is like you and I. People are different.

So I gave many stories of our salaf, our ulamā, even currently ulamā, on this beautiful topic. And then we talked about the idea of how the scholars want to — need to — they have their self-respect and dignity where they don't ask, they don't beg, they don't show their iftiqār and their need to anyone besides Allah. But on the other hand, it is their obligation and to their advantage that the community go out of their way to respect them, to honor them, to take care of their needs, to truly make them feel appreciated. And through the barakah of this ikrām and izzah, Allah Jalla Jalāluhu will give us things that we would never expect.

That's why Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم said:

This is the near meaning of the hadith, not the exact wording. (Sunan al-Tirmidhī, Hadith 1921)

Whoever does not show respect to the elders, whoever does not have mercy on the youngsters, and — this narration specifies — whosoever does not revere and show reverence to the ulamā, he is not from amongst us.

So why do we respect a scholar? Because he is representing Rasūlullāh صلى الله عليه وسلم, representing the deen. That's it. And I also mentioned — we don't need to get into people's backgrounds and go digging into people's things. We don't want to do that. That's also against the deen. Our job is: Yā Allāh, I love this person for Your sake. If there's something that I'm not aware of, keep it hidden from me. This is the du'ā we should make — Yā Allāh, please keep me blind from the faults of others — especially those who represent the deen. This will ruin our relationship with the deen if you start looking into this.

The Pig in the Rose Garden — Don't Go Looking for Filth

Always remember: if you look for dirt, you'll find it. In South Africa they have a saying — they say, "Don't be a pig." When I was there as a kid, they said, "Don't be a pig." I was like, what does that mean? They said: a pig, if you take him to a rose garden — a beautiful rose garden, so nice — he will not be looking at the nice roses and smelling the roses. He will be looking for manure inside the soil. He'll be looking for filth inside the rose garden. This is a rose garden — enjoy it! It's a Japanese garden — enjoy it! No, no, no. That's not what he's built for. He is built for filth.

When I was in India in 2007 in Jamāat, I went to Gulbarga. And I saw this with my own eyes. The poor Muslim areas — the most poor areas of the Muslim community where they're living — they didn't have a sewage system. They didn't have proper drainage. And believe it or not, what was their septic or sewage system? Pigs. You've never seen this. You'll be heartbroken. The sign of a Muslim community in some of these areas is that where there's a bunch of pigs, you know that this is the Muslim neighborhood. That's the type of oppression that's happening — where they intentionally do not build it out. The government has to do that. So they just release a bunch of pigs. You're going to the masjid and all you hear is the oink oink of the pigs, literally eating sewage. I was mortified.

The pig is not going to go to the bakery. He's not going to go to the meat shop. He's not going to go to the mithai dukān, the sweet store. The pig wants to go to the sewage. So there are some people — they will come into a madrasah like this, a masjid like this, they go to an institution — but their main thing is: how can I find dirt? The issue is not the madrasah, or the masjid, or the institution, or the non-for-profit, or the scholar. The issue is this person himself. He's suffering a disease. And the disease is that until he doesn't eat filth, he doesn't feel happy and satiated. He has to find dirt on people, dirt in places, and then he feels content.

"I've got enough ingredients to make some nice ghībah tonight. For iftār, I'm going to have a nice dish of ghībah." Some nice dish of what you call — a drink of false accusations, and some sides of carrying tales. This is what he feasts on. Buhtān, namīmah, ghībah, kadhib, khidā' — these are the sick people whose suḥoor and iftār is on false accusations, whose suḥoor and iftār is on backbiting, whose suḥoor and iftār is on carrying tales, on creating waswās and creating fitnah.

Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم — when he was informed by angels that the one who did siḥr on you is so-and-so, the daughters of Labīd, a Jewish man's daughters, had done siḥr on him. They had taken his hair, taken a comb, tied it up, made knots, put it inside a well — and that's where the siḥr was stored. The siḥr they did on the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم was to make him believe, to make him think that he did something which he did not. It comes in a hadith of Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī that he would think that he had gone to his spouse when he actually had not. This was the siḥr.

So when the Ṣaḥābah and the family found out and said, "Should we not go after them?" — the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم said, "I don't want to stir up fitnah. Leave it." You did siḥr on the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم! Siḥr is a very big crime. But the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم, look at how he responded. He said, "No, I don't want to cause fitnah. Leave it."

So now imagine people who just sit there and stir up fitnah for lunch, dinner, breakfast, suḥoor, snacks — everything. That's what they do. They stir up fitnah wherever they go. May Allāh save you and me from this group of people. These are sick people. Very sick. They need treatment. And just because you're old doesn't mean you're not like this. Just because you have a white beard doesn't mean you couldn't be like this. Just because you're an old auntie doesn't mean you're not like this. There are so many people who suffer this sickness.

So my point was — what we need to do is kām se kām: how can I benefit? Just do that and move on. And how can I benefit others? That was the story.

Mawlānā Yaḥyā: Never Keeping Money on His Person

Continuing on — Mawlānā Zakariyyā writes: another of my father's habits, regarding Mawlānā Yaḥyā, was to never keep money on his person. He would immediately send anything to his creditors except for the pocket change which he gave to us. He always said, "If I die during the night, I would not like death to come upon me while I have any money on me."

There are so many similar incidents of this kind amongst the elders. So whatever money he would get, what would he do? He'd pay back those who he owed. And there's some chump change he would give to the kids. The key thing is: I want to meet Allāh Azza wa Jal without anything in my pocket. SubḥānAllāh. That was their goal.

And now a person who is 65, 70 years old still doesn't have furṣah, doesn't have time to dedicate, because he's still amassing, amassing, amassing. For what? For the next generation. But brother, what about your own a'māl? Amassing our own a'māl.

I was just speaking to someone a little bit earlier. Allāh Azza wa Jal tested him — I should say tested him — with immense amounts of wealth. But the family life: no parents with him, no in-laws with him, living in a faraway place, etc. And in the month of Ramaḍān also, no time to be able to connect with the gatherings of tafsīr, gatherings of 'ilm and dhikr. And I was explaining to him that this is absolutely not a life that is enviable. That a person is disconnected from the masjid in the month of Ramaḍān, does not have family, is away from everybody, and is just struggling — home to work or work to home and that's it.

This is where a person needs to realize that not everything is as rosy as it may seem. The most important rosy thing we need is our personal ta'alluq with Allāh. Our personal relationship. If that is intact, then everything else is secondary.

Ḥājī Imdādullāh Muhājir Makkī: The Love Language of Allāh is Difficulty

Ḥājī Ibn 'Abdullāh Muhājir Makkī, his story regarding zakat. It is narrated in the biography of the leader of the group. Ḥājī Imdādullāh is called Sayyid al-Ṭā'ifah — the spiritual leader of all the ulamā, spiritual leader of all the ulamā of this seminary of Deoband.

Mawlānā Ashraf 'Alī Thānawī, rahmatullāhi alayhi, writes: After his sheikh, Miyājī Nūr Muḥammad, rahmatullāhi alayhi, passed away in 1843, his heart was overwhelmed by the love for Allāh. That day he dropped everything, walked out of the village and into the woods. Despising the company of all creation, he wandered in the jungles of Punjab and spent most of his time on an empty stomach, as was the sunnah of the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم. Sometimes eight or nine days would go by without as much as a morsel going down his throat. But the empty stomach and the pangs of hunger revealed many spiritual secrets to him.

They say, no pain, no gain. When a person is wincing in pain in a workout, he is building something. Similarly, when a person is in pain due to hunger, Allāh is opening up secrets for him that will never be opened otherwise. This is the power of jū' — hunger — for the sake of Allāh. Not that you have a house full of food in front of you and you say, "No, I'm just not going to eat for nine days." Not like that. You are in a place where there is no food, you're in a position where you don't have the means to get it, and you're making ṣabr. So days would go by that he's not eating. And Allāh then opened up secrets through the barakah of this sunnah of Rasūlullāh صلى الله عليه وسلم.

Someone asked Shaykh Zakariyyā, rahmatullāhi alayhi: "What was the sunnah of the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم? Did he have dessert before the meal or after?" — You know, in Gujarat, you have sweet before the meal. So someone said, "Let me settle this whole discussion between Gujarati and non-Gujarati. Is the sunnah of the Prophet to serve sweets before the meal or after?" So Ḥaḍrat Shaykh said, "Allāh, what a question!" He said: "Ḥuẓūr kī sunnat faqa thī." He said, you're asking about sweets before food and sweets after — which one is the sunnah? None of this was the sunnah. The sunnah of the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم was al-jū', al-jū' — hunger. Continuous hunger. SubḥānAllāh.

He would relate: "One day I was so weak from the pang of hunger, I — Ḥājī Imdādullāh — requested a small loan to alleviate my condition from a friend who expressed the sincerest friendship for me." He said, "I'm your best friend." I needed just a little money to get some food to eat. I knew he had the money. But he bluntly refused. For food. My heart was tormented. May Allāh never test us — we don't know how to handle this. These people go through this because they can handle it, and because of that they got unbelievable spiritual stages.

"My heart was tormented and I felt a sorrowful change come over me by this most challenging of circumstances. And then after a few short minutes, a special state overcame me. And I saw that this incident was brought on by the true Fa''āl un limā yurīd — the Doer of all actions. Then my sincerity reached new heights and my heartbreak converted into joy."

He said: Allāh put me through this test and it was so painful. You have been going without eating for days and you're asking to borrow money so you can buy some bread to eat — and you'll give the money back — and the man has money and he says, "I love you and you're my friend and you're my shaykh," and then outright refuses. This is like multiple knives in your chest, in your back. But when a person gets tested like this and then makes ṣabr for the sake of Allāh:

"Yā Allāh, this man — the way he has mistreated me — he could have never done this without Your permission. How can he? How did he treat me like this? How did he break my heart like this? He did it because You allowed him to. That means this is coming from You. And if it's coming from You, who am I to get upset?"

Anything that comes from Allāh, we — 'alā ra'sī wal 'ayn — we put it on our head. Every challenge, every heartbreak, every difficult situation — if it's coming from the person in front of you, remember it's coming from where? Allāh. And if Allāh is sending it your way, then there is a message there. Let's try to decode that message. And a person — when he decodes that message — he will get such sweetness. Like hieroglyphics, when you decode them, you read these messages. Similarly, Allāh has a very special love language.

The Love Language of Allāh

They say, understand your spouse's love language. This is a very important thing, and there are whole books written on this. Understand what type of love language your spouse has. And this is not only for spouses — this is for kids, very important. Many times parents don't understand their children's love language, and many children do not understand their parents' love language. Some parents — they don't send birthday cards, they don't express it like that — but they give every single drop of blood for their kids. And a child maybe has a different way of expressing it. So the mismatch of love language causes so much pain.

Allāh has His love language as well. And what is that love language? It is difficulty. What do you learn from these stories? Every scholar that we're reading about — and we'll read till the end, inshallah — his life from Imām Bukhārī till now, what is it filled with? It's just difficulty, man. That's all it is. It's just faqr, faqa, heartache, heartbreak, this one dying, this disease. That's all it is. How come? Because this is the love language of Allāh.

اَلْمِحْنَةُ مِنْحَةٌ خَفِيَّةٌ — al-miḥnah and minḥah. These are two words in Arabic, very similar. It's just a mīm-ḥā-nūn and nūn-ḥā — the order is switched. But it means a big difference. Al-miḥnah means difficulty. And minḥah means gift. So it is said: a difficulty is a hidden gift from Allāh. A difficulty is a hidden gift from Allāh.

So he said: after my friend refused to give me money, I was so hurt. But after that I realized this is Allāh sending me through this tarbiyah, and who am I to complain? After that I became overwhelmed and a special feeling of Allāh's muḥabbah overtook me. So we ask Allāh that He allows us to see Allāh's invisible hand in everything that's happening around us. Say āmīn.

And when you understand that, then you will understand: if I'm unhappy, I need to stop complaining to people. I need to speak to Allāh. Similarly, we may say to Allāh: "Yā Allāh, You love me so much, and that is why You're sending these difficulties to me. But I don't have the ability to handle this."

Like a ṣaḥābī who complained about blindness, and another ṣaḥābī — a lady — who suffered epileptic attacks, and they asked Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم for a du'ā of shifā. Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم said: "I can make du'ā, and Allāh will remove it. Or otherwise, I won't make du'ā, and you would be patient, and Allāh will give something much better." Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم is asking them: "How about you say, Yā Allāh, I'm ready for the hug — bring it on, because I know at the end I'm going to get something much better?" They said, "Yā Rasūlullāh, we can't handle this hug from Allāh." Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم encouraged them. They said, "Okay, we'll do it." The lady said, "Yā Rasūlullāh, just make du'ā that when I have this attack, my satr does not become open — that my clothes do not get removed from my body so that my private area doesn't become exposed. I'm covered up — that's all I care about." And Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم made this du'ā and it was accepted. Her whole life she was never treated. But look at the vision — look at how they were thinking.

Ubayy ibn Ka'b and the Du'ā for Fever

Similarly, about a ṣaḥābī — Ubayy ibn Ka'b radiyallāhu anhu — when he heard the virtues of fever, he made du'ā to Allāh: "Yā Allāh, grant me a fever." Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم was asked: "What is the reward for fever?" He said: "The person who gets fever will continuously get all the virtues that he used to when he was healthy."

So Ubayy ibn Ka'b radiyallāhu anhu says: "O Allāh, I ask You for such a fever —"

"Which will not hold me back from going out in Your path. And which will not stop me from going to visit Baytullāh. And which will not stop me from going to visit Masjid al-Nabawī." Three things: I want to be sick, but I should still be able to go and participate in khurūj, da'wah efforts, jihad — number two, to go visit Makkah al-Mukarramah for Ḥajj and 'Umrah — and to go visit Nabī صلى الله عليه وسلم's Masjid.

After this du'ā, he was never touched but that you could feel the fever on his body.

The Ṣaḥābah were like this. We should not be making such du'ās because we're not ready for these kinds of squeezes yet. Just ask Allāh Azza wa Jal to grant us the ability to manage, and to appreciate whatever He sends. Say: Yā Allāh, there is a door of ṣabr in Jannah and there's also a door called Bāb al-Shukr — a way to get to Jannah through shukr. So I prefer to go through shukr — because we don't know if we're going to be able to make the ṣabr. Yes, if someone is able to do it, mashallāh — that's amazing.

So alḥamdulillāh, these are really important points. The love language of Allāh is difficulty. This is a key point we're learning from today. That Allāh Azza wa Jal puts you through challenges if He truly loves you.

Another Incident: Ḥājī Imdādullāh in Makkah

Ḥakīm al-Ummah narrates an incident that was shared by Ḥājī Imdādullāh. He says: "When I arrived in Makkah, I was struck by hunger and had nothing to eat for many, many days. I said to my Allāh: 'O Allāh, O my Rabb, this imtiḥān is beyond my strength to bear.' Then I had a vision." He had a vision of Khwāja Mu'īn al-Dīn Chishtī rahimahullāh, and he is saying to me: "Allāh will place lakhs of rupees at your disposal." I replied: "I do not have the strength to bear this." He laughed and said: "Your need will not cease." Meaning: your reliance on Allāh will remain strong.

"From that point, my minimum monthly stipend never fell under 100 rupees." We're talking about the 1800s. 100 rupees — Google it, with inflation what that was. It's a lot of money. Things were being bought for paisas — cents. Complete books for paisas. A postcard was two paisas. So 100 rupees? SubḥānAllāh. Allāh gave it to him. But look — he's always giving on the path of Allāh.

Ḥaḍrat Shaykh al-Ḥadīth rahimahullāh writes: "I myself have heard Ḥājī Ṣāḥib say: 'For one week, I had nothing to survive on except the water of Zamzam. Meanwhile, I asked a sincere friend who was most outstanding in his claims of love, for a small loan, but he claimed to be penniless though he was not, and refused. I realized that his refusal was the divine will at work, so I was quiet and did not react.'"

This story that I'm reading to you — I know people like this today, here, in our own city, who are just like this. Who are going through such extreme difficulty, and SubḥānAllāh, when people who are around them know about it, not only do they not help, but even when this person has assisted them in something, they still will not help. And they'll say, "Brother, inshallāh I'll hook you up, I'll help you pay your rent," — whatever it is — and then SubḥānAllāh, they just disappear. So this system of the love language continues till today. There are very special people walking around even in this day of fitnah. We ask Allāh to grant them the highest levels of ṣabr, and may Allāh allow with this 'usr for yusr to come. For this difficulty, may Allāh bring ease as well.

Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī: Istighnā — Never Extending One's Hand

It is written regarding Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī, rahimahullāh. During his years as a student in Delhi, he never troubled anyone about his meals. His maternal uncle sent him an allowance of 3 rupees every month — 3 rupees a month, when we now understand the value of 100 rupees. After it ran out, if it had to be, he would suffice on stale bread, lentils like dāl, vegetables, or whatever else came by. This allowance also sought to cover his other necessities of laundry and stationery supplies — with 3 rupees a month.

He chanced to meet an alchemist in Delhi who noted his noble conduct and wished to impart the ancient formula of alchemy to him. But his nature — Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī's nature — recoiled from even the thought of it: "I'm going to use something to make money? I don't want this. I don't need this."

Shaykh Zakariyyā says: "I once heard my father say — regarding Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī — 'Once I was teaching Tirmidhī and the chit turned up between the pages of my book.'" The chit which contained the ancient coveted formula that transmuted herbs and plants into gold — given to Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad by one of the roadside faqīr alchemists of Delhi.

One of the people said, "Can you please make me a copy of the chit? I would like to have it." So Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī handed him the original and said: "What am I going to do with this? You take the original. I don't even..." This is the Salaf.

One of the elders — it is mentioned — was at the Ka'bah. Because even the kings of that time, who were Muslims, knew that the Awliyā's du'ās get accepted — so they used to really try to get the favor of the Awliyā and Ulamā. So a king went up to the scholar and said, "Can I please take care of any needs of yours?" He said: "I'm in front of the Ka'bah. The Lord of the Ka'bah is here. I'm speaking to the Lord of the Ka'bah. And you're asking me if you can take care of some of my needs? Go from here. How dare you come between me and Allāh and ask if you can fulfill my needs?"

So the king walked away. When he met him outside the Ḥaram Sharīf, he again asked: "Why can't I fulfill any of your needs? Can we do something for you?" He said: "Yes, let me ask you something. Would you like to take care of the needs of my dunyā, or would you like to take care of the needs of my ākhirah?" The king said: "Ḥaḍrat Shaykh, how can I take care of the needs of the ākhirah? That's completely out of my jurisdiction. Of course I'm talking about the needs of the dunyā." He said: "Why would I ask you to fulfill the needs of the dunyā when I did not even ask the Lord of the Ka'bah to do that? I was just out of the Ḥaram — I never asked anything for the dunyā over there. You think I'm going to ask you?"

Because they say: you can't eat the cake and have the cake. So these ulamā — their goal is: no, I want to have the full cake over there in ākhirah. Our whole system is so different. Completely different from Rasūlullāh صلى الله عليه وسلم, from the Ṣaḥābah, and the Salaf. For 99.99% of the people, including myself, our focus is today, this hour, now. Kal dekhā jāegā bhāī. Right now I want dunyā, I want enjoyment, I want ease, comfort, wealth — new home, new car, funds. Ākhirah? Inshallāh inshallāh, we'll figure out when we get there. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. And the Salaf are like: no. We already crossed that bridge. Our mind and heart is already in ākhirah. Let's focus on building our ākhirah. May Allāh change the direction of our hearts. May Allāh allow us to have the realization of death and prepare for every day as though it's our last. Yā Allāh, accept this from us.

In another place of the same book, Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī says: "My family and I suffered hunger. But by the grace of Allāh, we never borrowed from anyone."

The Amīr of Afghanistan's 5,000 Rupees

It is written in Tadhkirat al-Rashīd that the Amīr of Afghanistan, Ḥabībullāh Khān (1872–1919), sent his ambassador with 5,000 rupees — millions, in today's terms — for Mawlānā Rashīd Aḥmad Gangohī, with a message: "You will receive this amount annually, and the only condition is du'ā." Ḥaḍrat returned the amount. The ambassador begged: "At least respond to him with a letter acknowledging my meeting with you, otherwise he may think I have pocketed the money." Ḥaḍrat then wrote a letter in Persian:

"I am your brother in Islam, and my heart always supplicates for you — and even more so after hearing about your love for Islam and your patronage of the sacred knowledge. May Allāh grant you many blessings. I received your gift, but now that I have reached old age and Allāh has granted me a lot, what am I going to do amassing so much wealth? This is why I am returning it. You may invest it in other equally noble causes, and regardless, consider me one who is devoted to supplication for you."

My friends, when we have such people, the wealthy people realize that they're actually not the wealthiest people. This man is more wealthy than the Amīr of Afghanistan. Think about it. Even if the billionaires of today were given a chance to get another one million on top of their one thousand million, they'd say, "Come bring it, let's get it." This is what you call real wealth.

And this is what we need to have within ourselves — istighnā. I will never extend my hands in front of anybody. I will never beg in front of anybody. That is what most of the people of the dunyā don't have. And they get shocked that you cannot be bought out.

Closing: The Era of Buying and Selling — Protect Your Īmān

We are living in a time of buying and selling — not crude oil and stocks, though there's a lot of volatility happening there. We're in an era of buying and selling what? Īmān. And people. People are being bought and sold left and right. May Allāh protect you and I from being offered a price and caving in. Remember this. Everywhere, people are being bought and sold.

So before you look at another guy and say, "Is this guy bought out?" — ask yourself: at what price would I cave? They say there is a price at which you can buy anything. Anything can be sold. Even the ghilāf of the Ka'bah can be bought for a price — which you saw recently. Not a small piece — the front, center, top to bottom, the whole thing. A kingdom can be bought. Supreme Court seats can be bought. Decisions can be bought.

So my friend, there is always a price at which a person can be sold and purchased. You and I have to ask Allāh: may Allāh make our īmān and taqwā so high — so high — that no matter what the price is, we are never bought out. This is the scary part. I'm telling you in very nice words, and I'm telling myself. We're in the era of fitnah right now. Beg Allāh — not only for yourself, but for your progeny. May Allāh save our children. We can handle any difficulty, but we cannot handle being bought out. And that we sell our ākhirah for the dunyā — that would be the biggest, biggest harm we could ever face.

May Allāh safeguard us. May Allāh not test us with more than we can handle. May Allāh grant us the ability to be patient in any difficulty that comes our way. Allow us to be grateful for all the blessings we have.

Inshallāh we can proceed downstairs for iftār, and we can join together in du'ā.