Voice of British Muslim Women

Saira Iffat Bhatti, Slough

There’s something electric in the air this morning at Hadeeqatul Mahdi, and it’s not just the buzz of golf carts whizzing past or the volunteers rushing around with walkie-talkies crackling. It’s the sense of possibility. A feeling that every person stepping through the gates has left the ordinary world behind and entered something bigger, warmer, and utterly unique. 

As the sun crawls out from behind the Hampshire clouds, shining brightly as if blessing each guest’s arrival, people are arriving from all corners of the globe. Rows of tents line up like an eager welcoming committee, flags from every continent ripple in the breeze, and volunteers dart around like cheerful honeybees, all smiles and salaams (greetings of peace). There’s a sweet kind of chaos, the kind that somehow feels deeply peaceful at the same time.

The site itself feels like a living organism. Volunteers hold signs that say, “Welcome to the guests of the Promised Messiah (peace be upon him)”, in the accommodation areas roads bear names of Prophets (peace be upon them) and historic places, and signposts guide you to everything from the bookstall to the international langar (kitchen). At the heart of it all stands the vast white main marquee – the spiritual nucleus of this temporary village. 

As the programme kicks off, the air hums with anticipation. When His Holiness, Mirza Masroor Ahmad (may Allah be his helper), steps onto the stage to deliver the Friday Sermon (the first address of Jalsa Day 1), a hush falls over thousands. The collective focus is so strong you could almost hear a pin drop, save perhaps the gentle whirr of fans or the occasional baby giggle. The sermon sets the spiritual compass for the entire weekend: a reminder that we aren’t just here to catch up, but to reconnect with God, recharge our moral batteries, and leave as better versions of ourselves. 

In his Friday Sermon, His Holiness (may Allah be his helper) reminded us of the profound Islamic standards of hospitality, drawing on the examples of the Holy Prophet (may peace and blessings be upon him) and the Promised Messiah (peace be upon him). He lovingly urged all volunteers to uphold the highest moral standards in serving the guests of the Promised Messiah (peace be upon him) with patience, kindness, and above all, humility. It was a waking call to embody selflessness and grace, even in the face of difficulty. 

Shortly after, the iconic flag hosting takes place. Flags from dozens of countries flutter in the breeze, a visual manifesto of unity in diversity. Standing there, you don’t just see flags. You see stories: a guest who travelled 14 hours to get here; a young volunteer who worked all night to set up her station; a grandmother who’s attending her 40^th Jalsa and still smiles like it’s her first…

Of course, no Jalsa would be complete without its iconic “walking tour” moments: the bookstall with its irresistible pull for book-lovers, the exhibitions showcasing everything from humanitarian work to historic manuscripts, the lush displays woven with Qur’anic verses – and yes, that corner where you inevitably lose your group and then spend half an hour finding them again (an essential Jalsa rite of passage!).

And the backdrop to all this? Constant, unwavering service. From the khidmat-e-khalq (service to humanity) workers managing traffic to the smiling aunties at the tea station, everyone here embodies the reminder that true faith shines brightest in service. Of course, not everything goes to plan. There’s mud (often a lot), last-minute schedule changes, and that frantic run when you realise you’re meant to be on the opposite side of the site. But that’s part of the charm: the real, raw human spirit of Jalsa. 

As the day rolls on, the site transforms continuously. By sunset you’ll find clusters of guests sharing stories under the fading pink sky, groups huddled for evening prayers, and echoes of children laughing as they weave between the marquees. At its core, Jalsa is a mosaic – each volunteer, each guest, each moment adding a piece to a massive, breathtaking picture. A picture that says: we are one, we are here for a higher purpose, and we carry each other forward. 

By the time the first-day winds down, most people will be both physically exhausted and spiritually recharged, a paradox only Jalsa can offer. So as the programme officially begins, look around – really look. Every handshake, every shared umbrella, every whispered prayer is a thread in the giant tapestry that is Jalsa Salana.

It is in these moments that one truly understands why the Promised Messiah (peace be upon him) urged that, “It is essential for all those who can afford to undertake the journey, that they must come to attend this Convention”. Because here lies something great – a chance to reconnect with God. 

And if you listen closely enough, you’ll hear it: the sound of hearts waking up. 

And this is only Day One.