Every morning at 6:30 in Baroda, Gujarat, India the Muslim prayers were broadcast over a PA system. I couldn’t tell if it was a recording or live. I believe it was live. They were beautiful. Being early in my trip I found myself awake long before the prayers and after the first day, anticipating them. If I walked out of my hotel room to an open window at the end of the corridor I could hear them best. I did this each morning we were there.
I am not a Muslim, I claim no religion as my own. But the prayers, much like church bells or chanting caused me to stop, look in the general direction of the mosque, and take a breath. I became instatntly present, absorbed in the sacredness of the moment.