AN HOUR AFTER sunset the air is still warm and the light muted. A sickle moon glows brilliantly over the mosque, casting a faint trickle of light down the dome and upon the white caps of the men pushing through the doors. A slender line of women in chadors slips silently around the throng, up a rickety stairway and into an upper room; out of sight and, presumably, out of mind.

A swarm of taxis is parked along the curb as if washed up by a great wave, and still more press bumper to bumper in the narrow street to find a park. Latecomers bundle through the doors and squat on a broad tiled floor to wash their hands and feet, then shuffle discreetly into the main chamber.

I follow with a shallow bow, feeling like an impostor, and, muttering salaams, find a place in a back corner—close enough to feel wholly (and conspicuously) involved, but far enough away that I can leap through a window should my courage fail.

The air seems charged with faith. Lines of devotees gather beneath the fluorescent lights and the long, mournful chants of the mullah. He raises his voice in a shrill and beautiful cry, in measures indecipherable to the Western ear, then stops abruptly to let the echoes from the dome rain down upon his congregation. In unison they squat, roll forward on the balls of their feet, place their hands to the green carpet and press a hundred foreheads lightly to earth, whispering incantations.

They are prayers of hope, of their wish for prosperity in a new life in a new land. Collectively they represent every shade of Islam, many from countries that are intermittently at war with one another, often divided, ironically, over nuances of the very faith they share.

Tonight is one of the holiest in the Islamic calendar: the 27th night of Ramadan, when the Koran was revealed to the prophet Mohammed. It is a night of great piety, when believers count their blessings and remember what it is to be Muslim. Tonight they pray side by side, bent double in a room on the far side of the world, in a plush society lane in Ponsonby, Auckland.