Fasting is the practice of patience. One of the many names of the month of Ramadan is in fact Shahr Al Sabr (the month of patience). As Dr. Yasir Qadhi of the Al-Maghrib Institute explains it, “The linking of sabr (patience) to this month of fasting is self evident and obvious, because it is during this month that we control ourselves, we refrain from the two most essential items to live; food and water.”

According to the Pakistani American Muslim scholar, Ramadan encourages us to practice patience for times when “a calamity hits you, losing a job, financial catastrophe, the death of a loved one.” Intuitively, Dr. Yasir argues, we are also demonstrating our own limits: “when we master withholding ourselves from food and water, we also master withholding ourselves from other sins.”

Arguably, if we can control our need for essentials, then even as we sit in that crawling two-hour traffic to work, Muslims should be better equipped and trained to stay calm and collected.

Surprisingly however, amongst my immediate survey of friends and family, it isn’t the restraint from food and water that stands as the greatest test of patience, but rather terawih prayers; evening prayers that all Muslims are recommended to do.

Terawih prayers are only performed during the month of Ramadan. It’s done in sets of two rakaats towards a total of either 8, 12 or 20 total rakaats. The choice is your own. One rakaat is a single unit of prayer, composing of a recitation of the first surah (chapter) in the Quran, reciting another surah in the Quran, bowing, straightening from the bow, prostrating, rising from prostration, and then prostrating again.

This year in London’s Masjid Ar-Razak, congregants experienced one of the longest terawih prayers in its history after the young Imam Khaled Shamsi, 32, dared one of his students to recite Surah al-Baqarah—the longest surah in the Quran. Congregants weren’t too happy about the dare. The first verse alone took over 3 minutes. The student recited all 286 verses in Surah al-Baqarah.

Some of Masjid Ar-Razak’s congregants got cramps midway through prayer, some pulled their hamstrings, and some even stopped to take a nap.

But most tarawih prayers aren’t so torturous. Deputy Minister of Tourism & Culture and Masjid Tanah’s member of parliament Datuk Mas Ermieyati Samsudin uses the evening prayers to visit the mosques in her constituency. “I would usually just go in straight and pray. After terawih prayers, as congregants shake hands and greet one another, many would be shocked.” Shocked that their parliamentary representative had been praying terawih besides them the entire time.

The mosque’s imams would also approach the Deputy Minister, apologising that they hadn’t prepared for her arrival. “But that is the best part,” said Mas Ermieyati, “because I get to experience praying Tarawih besides the surrounding residents.” For her, its a warm feeling.

That is perhaps the fruit of Tarawih prayers, its ability to bring the community together; teens, parents, teachers, leaders, elders, all praying as equals, all working to better themselves in the