One day, while we were out roaming at a nearby shopping center here in Canada, the time for Maghrib prayer approached. I quietly stepped away and found a small grassy spot beside a bush to perform my prayer. The grass was damp, and a soft rain had begun to fall.
As I stood in prayer, lost in worship, someone quietly approached. Without a word, he gently laid a large cloth in front of me—like a prayer mat—and walked away. In that brief moment, as he placed it down, I caught a glimpse of his shoes—men’s shoes. It was clear from that small detail that he was a man, or perhaps a young guy. He had likely just stepped out of a car in the parking lot. He said nothing. He simply laid the cloth and disappeared.
I was in the middle of my third rak‘ah and continued praying, though deeply moved by his gesture. When I finished all five rak‘ahs, I quickly turned around, hoping to greet him. But he was gone. The car had left, and there was no one in sight.
I stood there for a moment, overwhelmed. My eyes filled with tears. I prayed for him from the depths of my heart—for his kindness, for his silent generosity.
I brought that cloth home. Now it rests beneath my prayer mat, where I pray every day. I consider it a form of ongoing charity—sadaqah jāriyah—on his behalf. A quiet act of goodness that lives on.
May Allah reward him beyond measure.
How I wish I had been able to thank him from the bottom of my heart or had seen his face – just once.
Noorin Khwaja Eshaan 