Asif Mahmood Basit, London
(Every person’s visit to the Haramayn – the Ka‘bah and Masjid al-Nabawi – is a unique experience in its own way. Below are some pages from a wayfarer’s notebook that express the writer’s personal emotions and feelings. The wayfarer’s name is not important, so we’ll simply call this traveller Salik [seeker/pilgrim] and experience the accounts recorded in his notebook)
The days behind
As the plane took off from London, it was the beginning of November. Before crossing the layer of clouds, the scene below showed England’s beautiful meadows, freshly touched by autumn. Yellow, mustard, and golden patches dotted the scenery, but Europe’s greenery doesn’t give in so easily. The patchwork of gardens and fields, resembling a mendicant’s patched cloak, had barely come into full view when the plane entered the clouds, and this scene vanished from Salik’s sight.
As Salik looked out of the window, there was only a thick layer of clouds like a freshly-quilted blanket spread as far as the eye could see – a cotton blanket, freshly carded. So vast it was that it appeared to wrap tightly around the earth’s curvature. This infinite carpet of clouds would remain visible for the next five or six hours, so Salik pulled down the window shade, intending to catch up with the previous night’s sleep.
But in the given circumstances, sleep was far from Salik’s eyes. The journey ahead, the path ahead, the destination ahead – all these combined typically drive sleep away. The journey continued, the destination still far, but the past few days – nay, the past few weeks – began playing on the screen of Salik’s mind.
Salik had to go to Saudi Arabia for work. He immediately arranged tickets and began preparations. The land where he was headed now hosts all kinds of worldly affairs. Through continuous progress, Saudi Arabia has joined the developed world and has become a key wheel in driving the industry and craft machinery of many developed countries.
But Saudi Arabia’s fundamental claim to fame still isn’t this progress and worldly success. Its identity remains the same as it was 1,400 years ago when a strange event occurred there. An event that made the blind see and the dim-sighted bright, introduced the deaf to the pleasure of hearing and the mute to the power of speech. The event for which the universe was created. God created humankind for this one event alone. And then, to show the pinnacle of this creation, He brought forth on this land that human being without whose birth the understanding of ahsan-i-taqwim (best of creation) would never have been possible. Indeed, on whom would this verse have even been revealed?
So whenever Salik told anyone that he was going to Saudi Arabia, the first question would be, “For Umrah?” He would tell everyone that he had some work in a state department there, but the question remained unchanged: “Will you perform Umrah too?” And a positive response would satisfy everyone, with no one asking what the actual purpose was.
Perhaps this was because these were Salik’s friends and colleagues who understood Salik’s obsession with confidentiality. And they knew that even if they asked about the work, Salik wouldn’t tell them anyway. And they were also assured that when it happened, Salik would tell them on his own.
But all these friends would become happy hearing about Umrah. They would offer congratulations, but since Salik’s primary intention had not been to perform Umrah, receiving these congratulations would make him feel somewhat embarrassed.
He would also feel envious of these friends that the mere thought of visiting the House of Allah, even if in someone else’s fortune, would light up their eyes with joy. With these good wishes, everyone would also add, “When you go there, pray for us too.” Salik would become quiet. He didn’t jump to make promises. Strange thoughts would crowd his mind, and the conversation would end with Salik’s whisper-like approval.
All such conversations would awaken the fear and anxiety hidden within Salik’s heart. Was he really going to what is God’s first house on this earth? Could he really go there? Could he really reach that house of the Majestic God and present himself like a criminal for arrest? This thought would often take control of Salik’s heart and, in the words of George Herbert, “With that abash’d and struck with many a sting; of swarming fears.”
His favourite poet Ghalib’s lines kept ringing in his mind:
بندگی میں بھی وہ آزادہ و خود بیں ہیں کہ ہم
الٹے پھر آئے درِ کعبہ اگر وا نہ ہوا
But he did have one disagreement with Ghalib here – where he said he would turn back if the door of the Ka‘bah didn’t open. If the door of the Ka‘bah didn’t open for Salik, he wouldn’t be able to turn back. He would perhaps break down and fall right there. He who couldn’t bear rejection or indifference from worldly beloveds, if God also showed Salik his true reflection and didn’t open the door of the Ka‘bah, Salik would be left stranded for his entire life.
Among these friends, two had already performed Umrah. They would ask Salik almost daily, “Well, then! How are the Umrah preparations going?” Salik would feel embarrassed. They would take this as Salik’s humility. Salik would remain quiet and think about how to tell them how much his heart was filled with fear. Which worldly idol doesn’t dwell in his heart? And carrying all these idols, should he barge into that house from where all idols were broken and thrown out – the house that was purified of idols forever. And today, should he go there again with a heart full of little, stubborn idols? God knows how he would be treated.
Then, for the next couple of weeks, friends kept helping (pushing rather) with preparations. Buy the ihram from such-and-such places. Have you bought it? Not yet? If not now, when? Keep good sandals; there will be lots of walking to do there. Download such-and-such apps. Such-and-such booking will only happen through it. Have you booked the appointment for Riyad-ul-Jannah?
Salik would explain that there were no slots available for the days they would be there but these friends insisted on checking the app daily. Check several times a day. Check a thousand times. Just keep checking!
When, until the day before departure, no space for Riyad-ul-Jannah appeared available on the app, Salik, somewhat irritated, told this friend, “Brother, Allah hasn’t measured the reward for offering nawafil in Riyad-ul-Jannah in inches and centimetres. I’ll pray standing right outside it. God willing, there will be some acceptance.” That friend felt slightly hurt, but Salik was caught in his own storms of thoughts and worries.
Further on, Salik writes many prayers and good wishes for these friends. He says that without their persistence and activity, he might have refrained from making even the intention for Umrah, let alone performing it. And he thanks God for this work as well as for the one who had arranged for this journey. He says, hand on heart, that the emotions, apprehensions, and concerns he has described were exactly one-hundred-percent true. If any emotion persevered throughout all stages of preparation, it was the emotion of fear. This made him feel even more fearful that while people jump with joy when going for Umrah, how weak and worn his faith turned out to be. Alas!
The lands ahead
These hazy thoughts and dreams kept swirling in Salik’s mind. On the in-flight entertainment screen before him, for six full hours, only the display showing the aircraft’s direction and remaining journey remained visible. The plane passed over England’s south-eastern coast and crossed the English Channel. Then it flew over several European countries, passed over Greece, and began its flight over the Mediterranean Sea. Its direction was towards Egypt. Europe and its verdant landscapes left behind, and also the Mediterranean; what now lay ahead were barren deserts and rocky terrains – the landscape of the Muslim world. The map showed Libya, Morocco, Egypt, the UAE, and Saudi Arabia. Salik wondered why they didn’t call it the “religious world” instead of the Islamic world; after all, most religions emerged here. Ahead of the aircraft now lay the lands of Jerusalem, Iraq, Egypt, and the Hijaz – the birthplace and cradle of Abrahamic religions.
Salik was travelling to a country in the Islamic world after 22 years – two full decades and two more years on top. This thought was creating a strange sense of belonging in his heart. Along with it, the thought would occasionally surface that he had to leave the Muslim world because the authorities and some extremist circles of these regions had severed ties with him. They had raised various questions about his faith. But this thought couldn’t overcome the sense of belonging that was surging in Salik’s heart. He belonged to this world, and no matter where he lived, he would always remain an inhabitant of the Islamic world. In that moment, Salik felt a new wave in his heart and mind, as though he were returning to his centre. And this wasn’t wrong either as where he was going was indeed the centre of the entire world.
When the screen showed the aircraft rapidly approaching the Nile River, Salik lifted the window shade. He wanted to see it, even if in pitch darkness – how could he pass by without looking? Which Muslim child hasn’t heard the story of Mosesas in their childhood?
And when the plane passed directly over the Nile a few moments later, the river appeared below in the darkness of the night like a serpent, lying and coiling through the stretches of the Egyptian desert. God knows in which part of it that brave mother had left her child in God’s care.
Can we all attain such a level of firm faith, or is it reserved only for the prophets, their khalifas, and their mothers? Does such a degree of trust in God ever come that a layperson can surrender their beloved child to the ripples and waves of mighty rivers? Or does this degree of faith remain merely unattainable for the common person? The West may have abandoned religion, but even today it takes pleasure in buying Moses baskets for their children. Can this honour of having one’s story immortalised come to all people who love God and trust in Him? Or is this too reserved for the prophets and their successors? Then how far can an ordinary person go in following their examples?
Lost in thoughts of the great Prophet Mosesas and his mother, the plane passed over the Nile. Now between the Hijaz and the aircraft remained only a vast piece of Egyptian land and then the seemingly brief expanse of the Red Sea.
Jeddah airport was right on the shore of the Red Sea, where Salik’s plane was to land. The aircraft had to cross this small sea width wise, through the brief gap between its two shores. Salik was to cross this sea quite comfortably, seated in the plane, but he remembered the small group of Muslims that had crossed this same Red Sea 1,400 years ago.
Some from among the nascent community that had gathered around the Prophetsa of Islam had migrated to Abyssinia, weary of the persecution by the Quraysh of Mecca. Those who migrated in that atmosphere of fear and trepidation went from Mecca to the port of Shuayba, which was adjacent to Jeddah. From there, they crossed the Red Sea lengthwise southwards to reach Aksum, and that too in the dilapidated boats of that era.
And going much further back, the children of Abrahamas had also crossed the Red Sea to settle in Egypt. When Mosesas, four and a half centuries later, set out towards the Promised Land with the House of Abraham – the Bani Israel – that had settled in Egypt, they too crossed the Red Sea. Historians generally say they crossed at the Suez Finger, but some modern research insists that they crossed the southern part of the Red Sea and reached the Promised Land through Mecca and Jeddah along the length of the Arabian Peninsula. Perhaps this insistence on the latter has an element of bias, aiming to make the grand exodus more Islamified.
But Salik’s plane crossed the Red Sea – and the centuries of history woven into it – in just a few moments; and while doing so, it began descending gradually from a height of several thousand feet. The front-facing camera of the aircraft was now showing Jeddah’s blazing lights on the screen. Shortly after, the plane descended rapidly from its heights and landed at Jeddah’s King Abdul Aziz Airport.
At the airport, the immigration and baggage claim process didn’t take too long. Perhaps it did, but Salik felt this time pass very quickly. Walking on this land where once the Holy Prophetsa had walked and spent his entire life. Salik’s steps were heavy, yet swift with this realisation. There was a strange joy – the joy of proximity to the beloved; an ecstasy rather. The ecstasy that comes in the desire for touch before touching the beloved.
(After landing at Jeddah Airport, there is writing about Salik’s work-related matters which are not of general interest. Nor has Salik recorded its details. So we skip Salik’s work matters and record the account of reaching Mecca from Jeddah.)
The road to Mecca
When Salik boarded a taxi from Jeddah to Mecca, it was midnight. The taxi and its driver reminded him of Pakistan’s taxis and drivers – that same casual playfulness, that same carefree attitude. The taxi had barely set off when the driver opened YouTube on the front screen and offered Salik to play music of his choice.
Salik, always weak in refusing, mustered the courage to politely decline. After all, he was going to confess his sins. Who thinks of music at such a time? The driver was extremely talkative, so much so that even knowing Salik didn’t understand Arabic, he kept talking in his native tongue. He knew the joy of those going to Mecca and wanted to share in Salik’s happiness. But Salik himself didn’t know whether to be happy, regretful, or fearful about his decision to confess his sins. Salik’s mind was an arena of thoughts and emotions.
In the deep darkness of midnight, the entire route’s mountains and hills appeared like black shadows. How significant mountains were in Salik’s journey! It was only the mountains that remained firm in the traditions associated with these regions. Otherwise, except for the Ka‘bah and the tomb of the Prophetsa, facts had been lost in narrations, and narrations lost in folklore. Everything had fallen prey to uncertainty. However, these mountains existed when the Holy Prophetsa was in this world; they still existed as Salik passed by, viewing them. These mountains had been seen by the eyes of the Holy Prophetsa in the same state as these mountains now watched Salik ride before them.
The journey passed in the blink of an eye. An hour, or an hour-and-a-half – that’s what Salik spent daily commuting to work in London. Seeing Mecca’s entrance gate was an unbelievable sight. But in this joy, Salik’s eye caught a sign that read: Only Muslims beyond this point. Salik averted his eyes in shame. Muslim – a word that had lost its meaning over time. What kind of Muslim was Salik? Official or unofficial? A true Muslim? A real Muslim? Or was he even Muslim at all?
The term meant to express one’s own faith is today applied to test and judge (or misjudge) the faith of others.
At this entrance of Mecca, along with this sign stood some uniformed officers, but neither did they stop the car, nor did anyone question Salik.
The Holy Prophet’ssa esteemed town seemed to have accepted Salik and embraced him with open arms. But in his heart, he had rumbling questions: Who is there who can claim to be a perfect believer? Who can say that small pebbles of disbelief don’t rattle in the hidden chambers of their heart? Despite outward purity, who isn’t somewhat impure somewhere?
Salik was now in the Holy Prophet’s sacred city. The city where he was born. Where the first cry from a child’s throat had echoed immediately after his birth. This newborn didn’t know that his father had already died and had entered this world as an orphan. His mother, who, during pregnancy, had received the shock of her husband’s death, was also given the glad tidings in a dream that what was hidden in her womb was a light that would emerge from her womb to illuminate all of Arabia, crossing the borders of Syria and Lebanon to brighten the East and West.
This child also didn’t know that his mother would entrust him to Halima Sa’diyah for special nurturing and send him to the countryside away from herself. Perhaps so that he would get used to separation from his mother too, as he would have barely returned from there when his mother too would leave him forever.
Then his grandfather would also leave him while caring for him; then his uncle Abu Talib too. Then the Quraysh of Mecca would find him defenceless and, upon hearing his message, would put him through the height of oppression and force him to leave Mecca.
Salik had entered this city where the Pride of Messengers was born but this wasn’t all. God had even sworn by this city: “By the fig and the olive, and Mount Sinai, and this Balad al-Amin (Secure City). Indeed, We created man in the best of forms.”
“So what causes you to deny the Recompense?” This was no less than a Day of Judgment for Salik. He had come to confess his sins, and it is from this point indeed that judgment begins.
He had come here to present both his hands before the Ahkam-ul-Hakimin – the Most Wise of Judges. And hands have much significance with this city too. What else could Salik do but fear and tremble?
Salik had to confess his sins while performing tawaf of this House. But even for tawaf, God had set the condition that “let them end their impurities”, meaning that before tawaf, remove your impurities and then perform tawaf of this Ancient House – the Bait al-Atiq. What could Salik do? The outward impurities were in his control, but the thick layers of impurity covering his inner self – these he had to remove by confessing his sins. His heart took courage from the fact that the same God had called it “the City of Security” and the City of Peace. He has also said that “Allah has made the Ka‘bah, the Sacred House, for upholding mankind.” That the Ka‘bah was created for the purpose of establishing humanity.
In some countries, the final authority to pardon severe punishments like the death penalty rests with the head of state. However, the law seemingly does not permit even the head of state this discretionary power. Yet, what convicted person would not try this final recourse? Salik had come with both a confession of his crime and the intention to seek forgiveness. Moreover, he was not presenting himself before any temporal ruler. His confession was before the Supreme Judge (Ahkam-ul-Hakimin), Who is free from all constraints and is Most Merciful.
Lost in his thoughts, Salik reached his hotel in Makkah. His intention was to first visit the Ka‘bah, but it was nearly two in the morning. He did not want to see the Ka‘bah while tired and sleepy. Besides, who would let him approach the Ka‘bah in a shirt and trousers? He needed to be in the state of ihram with its prescribed attire and paraphernalia. He resolved to make this his first task in the morning – to go to the miqat, enter the state of ihram, and present himself at Baitullah – the House of the Lord – in daylight. It was to be an open confession, so it ought to be done in broad daylight.
The remaining quarter of the night somehow just passed. Early morning, he fulfilled the requirements of ihram. The taxi could only take him to a certain point on the return from the miqat.
The driver dropped him off where ahead was Abdul Aziz gate. He began walking towards it, the crowd outside barely allowing movement. Children, adults, elderly, men, women – as if the world’s entire population had assembled.
Some infirm ones sat in wheelchairs, being taken around by others. Those heading towards the Ka‘bah in wheelchairs had radiant faces; those returning from it wore expressions of sorrow – for the realisation that perhaps they would never see the Ka‘bah again. Mothers had secured their young children’s ihram with safety pins. No one was conscious of anything else. All eyes were fixed on the door through which they would get to see the Ka‘bah. Everyone’s steps were hurried. Some were limping, but even they moved with strange agility, without fear of falling.
Walking on, Salik reached near the inner entrance of Masjid al-Haram. The crowd had grown immense. Shoulder to shoulder, people truly pressed against each other. Salik was drawing closer to that moment when his steps began to falter. Before confessions, one’s steps are prone to stumble. But the crowd gave his feet no chance to stop or turn back, and carried him to the corridor where an escalator descended into the courtyard of the Ka‘bah.
While walking and approaching the stairs, Salik caught a glimpse of a black and golden piece from the corner of his right eye. But he became apprehensive and deliberately turned his gaze away. Salik didn’t want to see the Ka‘bah in pieces. He wanted to see the House of the Supreme Judge (Bait al-Haram) in its entirety before him; in such a way that this Sacred House would manifest its Lord’s greatness and majesty; His glory; His grandeur. So that Salik too could throw his entire being on his knees before Him, bow his head, and confess his crimes. Perhaps the Supreme Judge, the Lord of Ka‘bah, would show mercy to this criminal.
Salik, with a lowered gaze, reached the final level where the stairs descended into the courtyard of the Ka‘bah. Eyes still lowered, he stepped onto the escalator. The stairs carried his burden down. And the time came to raise his eyes. Most of Salik’s life had been such that:
ایماں مجھے روکے ہے تو کھینچے ہے مجھے کفر
کعبہ میرے پیچھے ہے کلیسا میرے آگے
“Faith holds me back while disbelief pulls me forward; the Ka‘bah behind me, the church ahead.”
But today, the Ka‘bah was before him. In touching distance.
When Salik raised his eyes, the magnificent and awe-inspiring cubic structure of the Ka‘bah stood before him in all its lustre. They say that the first prayer at this first sight holds great virtue. But Salik had forgotten all prayers. He made his appeal for mercy to the Supreme Judge. But with no response. He went a bit closer and again appealed for mercy. Then he stood, staring at this house of glory, majesty, and grandeur. He moved closer still. He didn’t even realise when he had entered the orbit of the circling human ring and its force had him walking with everyone else; in circular paths, around this majestic house of God. His gaze was lowered. He could only see his feet, and that too with difficulty, as the scene remained perpetually hazy.
He kept telling the Supreme Judge in his heart that he had come to confess his sins. “Please listen to me first!” But he kept being pulled into the human circle performing tawaf. When he tried to step aside to speak, a shoulder, an elbow, or a push would force him into an inner circle closer to the Ka‘bah, until his steps collided with a fixed crowd and stopped. This crowd was motionless. When he looked up, he saw this crowd was indeed still, frozen with their hands placed on the wall of Ka‘bah.
Salik was in a strange predicament. His confession, his plea for mercy had apparently received no response, yet he had been allowed to come closer. So close that he could touch the Ka‘bah. Salik raised his hand and, trembling, placed it on the wall of the Ka‘bah – the wall of the Lord of the Ka‘bah’s court. Trembling, he made his confession and plea for mercy.
Where did this courage come from? Salik writes that now when he thinks about it, perhaps it was the Lord of Ka‘bah Himself who brought these words to mind: “Indeed, the first House [of worship] established for mankind was that at Bakkah – blessed and a guidance for the worlds.”
This house was built for common people. This house was the source of guidance. This house was blessed. There was no room here for negativity and ill-feelings. Here was an opportunity to accept guidance anew. A chance, having reached middle age, to confess sins and appeal for mercy. Perhaps the last chance!
Seasons ebb and seasons flow!
It seemed to require the strength of one’s entire being to touch the Ka‘bah. Like touching a live electric wire. Then suddenly, with the speed of electric current, Salik touched the wall of the Ka‘bah. Simultaneously, like in a movie scene, silence fell and the whole scene went mute. There was no explosion and no electric shock; just the echoing silence began ringing in his ears. And then, in that same moment, the crowd separated his hand from the wall of the Lord of Ka‘bah’s court and carried him away with it.
Salik had come here departing from autumn, so like a yellow leaf, he flowed in this current. This flow kept taking him around several circuits. He forgot that a new circuit begins when passing the Black Stone (Hajr al-Aswad). There is a certain etiquette to follow before a new circuit begins. Who knows how many circuits Salik completed? He forgot to count. A confession of countless sins! How could one keep count of the circuits?
While making circuits, Salik would occasionally gather the courage to lift his eyes and look up. The majestic Ka‘bah would appear towering above him with full height. He would lower his gaze and continue circling in the flow of the human flood. After some time, the same crowd that had pulled him close to the Ka‘bah began pushing him outwards. A strange game of centripetal and centrifugal forces was at play. Now, the crowd itself was pushing him outward, when suddenly, a powerful thrust pushed him out of the circling swirl.
Exhausted from this strange experience, Salik sat down in a patch of shade in the courtyard of the Ka‘bah – like a planet straying from its orbit suddenly falls into infinite space. By chance, he had sat in a place where he could see the Hajr al-Aswad mounted before him. People were madly trying to touch it, pushing each other, dragging themselves and others, practically climbing over one another trying to touch this sacred stone. How were they doing it? Salik couldn’t understand. He had only just touched the wall of the Ka‘bah and entered another world – a strange world of silence and stillness where a film had begun to play on his imagination.
It was just one moment of touch but it contained many emotions and thoughts.
The silence that had fallen in his imaginative world, and the lack of an anticipated response, had come as a reminder that the Ka‘bah is just the Ka‘bah, just God’s house, not God Himself. A reminder of God’s own words that human senses cannot reach God, yet He can reach human sensations if He so chooses. Being here is certainly a matter of good fortune and blessing, but while this is surely the court of the Supreme Judge, it is not the Supreme Judge itself.
This reminder was perhaps necessary so that weak people like Salik would clearly understand that there is no room for worship of anything else in the worship of God. It’s a very fine line where one’s foot can easily slip from here to there without one even realising.
And in that one moment of touch, such a long film had played. Just as in dreams, where the duration and sequence of many events is a bit blurry, Salik couldn’t remember the sequence of this dream-like experience.
Somewhere Prophet Abrahamas and his young son appeared constructing this building, saying, “O God, we are making a place for Your worship. Please accept it.” They had gathered those stones from the surrounding mountains – the same type of stones that idolaters would deify and worship. But these stones were being used for God’s house with the plea that God accept this use of stones and that people understand that stones are just stones. It is indeed the use that changes its meaning; turn it into a god, or turn it into God’s house – a seemingly small difference, but a huge distinction in reality.
God blessed Abrahamas and Ishmael’sas effort in such a way that today, Salik was witnessing it with his own eyes. The tawaf he had just been part of wasn’t the tawaf of a few thousand or a hundred-thousand people, but it was the tawaf of millions that had been happening around this house for centuries. Being part of it was like being part of a time machine that had pulled Salik into this human circle that had been continuous for centuries – revolving like planets in the solar system.
But then, during that moment’s touch, Salik also remembered those idols that were placed inside and around the Ka‘bah, and the Ka‘bah remained silent. The Ka‘bah could neither prevent those idols from being placed in it, nor pick them up and throw them out. But the Almighty God had His own plans.
However, the Judge of this courtroom sent new law from time to time. One after another, those bringing new law diverted people’s attention from idols to the One God. But idols remained present in the Ka‘bah, and peoples’ hearts would repeatedly return to those idols. The Ka‘bah could neither break these idols, nor throw them out. But the One God had His own design for what lay in the centuries ahead.
Around the Ka‘bah, both those who worshipped the One God continued their tawaf, and the practice of worshipping the idols placed within also continued. The Ka‘bah remained silent.
Then, in this film came the scene of the breaking of idols as the pinnacle of acceptance of Abraham’s prayer. With what pain had Abrahamas prayed, “Our Lord, send among them a messenger from themselves” who would introduce the world to You; who would recite Your verses to them; who would teach them wisdom, and purify their hearts from the love of idols?
Perhaps Abrahamas knew that the house he was building for God’s worship would one day become a hub for idols. Abrahamas had seen idols since childhood. He had put his own life at risk by declaring them lifeless, but he also knew that though idols may be utterly inanimate, human nature is drawn to them. Also that there is a constant need for callers who would free humanity from idols. But soon, humans fall into the state that Wordsworth described so aptly:
“The world is too much with us; late and soon,
“… We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!”
God accepted Abraham’s prayer and sent many prophets from his lineage. But Abrahamas was praying for the final decision, where “Truth has come and falsehood has departed” would become manifest. A prophet who would purify the Ka‘bah from idols once and for all, hence razing idols from the heart of humanity.
That scene too appeared in this moment-long film when that Prophet came and God granted him victory and he himself entered the Ka‘bah and broke the idols and the Ka‘bah was cleansed from idols forever.
Many years before becoming victorious, when this Prophet was an ordinary resident of Makkah, he had also participated in the reconstruction of the Ka‘bah. The Ka‘bah had been damaged by fire and just days later, a flood had destroyed what remained of the structure. The Ka‘bah had remained silent. But the Omniscience God knew what he was to come.
When the Quraysh of Makkah wanted to rebuild this sacred edifice, Muhammadsa ibn Abdullah also participated diligently in its reconstruction. The Quraysh had obtained wood for the rebuild from a Greek merchant who was selling salvaged parts from a shipwreck at the port of Shuaiba. With whatever timber and other material was available, they managed to reconstruct a portion of the Ka‘bah. Due to the shortage of wood and construction materials, a section could not be included in the structure, which is today known as the Hatim. The Ka‘bah, however much of it was rebuilt, remained silent. It knew that the true purpose of its construction needed to be fulfilled; otherwise, it was merely a structure of wood and stone. So even with the Hatim left out, the Ka‘bah remained silent.
Then when Muhammadsa ibn Abdullah returned as Muhammadsa Rasulullah, he cleansed the Ka‘bah of idols. This journey too was far from easy. First, he tried to explain that these idols held no significance. But how could centuries-old worshippers abandon their deities, and that too at the word of this orphan who had grown from childhood to middle age before their very eyes. The Quraysh of Makkah not only rejected his message but also rejected him and he had to migrate. The circumstances of migration were extremely perilous, but he departed from this town with a heavy heart, saying, “O town of Makkah, I love you dearly. Had I not been compelled, I would never have left you.”
Tears flowed from the eyes of the Prophetsa in a flood of emotions. But Makkah remained silent, and so did the Ka‘bah within it. But the Almighty God knew that his prophet will return victorious.
Then came the day for the fulfilment of Allah’s promise: “Indeed, We will give victory to Our messengers”, and Prophet Muhammadsa not only pardoned all oppressors of this town, but also did humanity the favour of purifying the Ka‘bah of idols. Thus, the prayer of Abrahamas was gloriously fulfilled.
Before this moment in the film, there was no warning that some viewers might find certain scenes and sounds disturbing. Suddenly, sounds of explosions and flames began to echo. These were scenes from just a few years after the Holy Prophet’ssa departure from this world, when Abdullah ibn Zubair had established his authority in Makkah. The Umayyads, who ruled the Islamic empire, wanted to end this authority and gain control of Makkah. Heavy crossfire occurred between the Umayyad forces and Abdullah ibn Zubair with the Ka‘bah caught in this violent exchange. It was damaged and its walls demolished, but the Ka‘bah remained silent.
Abdullah ibn Zubairra rebuilt the Ka‘bah and, citing the Holy Prophet’ssa desire, included the Hateem within its structure. The Ka‘bah, thus, got back its rectangular shape instead of a cube.
Shortly after, the Umayyad Caliph appointed his ruthless general, Hajjaj ibn Yusuf to free Makkah from Abdullah ibn Zubair’s control. A fierce battle ensued and ruthless bloodshed surrounded the Ka‘bah and it suffered damage once again. But Hajjaj bin Yusuf, by hook or by crook, brought Makkah under Umayyad control. This was happening nearly forty years after the passing of the Holy Prophetsa. Abdullah ibn Zubair was martyred, and Makkah came under the rule of the Umayyad Caliph Abdul Malik bin Marwan. The rectangular shape of the Ka‘bah was demolished and restored to its square form, and the Hateem was once again detached from the Ka‘bah’s structure. The Ka‘bah remained silent. Since then, the Ka‘bah has maintained this square shape as well as its silence. Because the Lord of the Ka‘bah knew that shape did not matter; what mattered was the purpose of the building where the entire Ummah was to unite one day.
Whatever you do, the Ka‘bah remains silent. Whether you call out to Allah here or beseech the stones embedded in the Ka‘bah’s walls, the Ka‘bah remains silent.
Then suddenly, a melodious verse echoed in this film:
قِفَا نَبْكِ مِنْ ذِكْرَى حَبِيبٍ ومَنْزِلِ
“Stop, let us weep at the remembrance of the beloved and their dwelling.”
Before Salik’s eyes now were the Mu‘allaqat hanging inside this cuboid structure from another era. Masterpieces of classical Arabic literature – love poetry, war anthems, and other epic songs.
Salik began to hear the echo of Imru‘ al-Qais’ verses. As if that great poet was reciting to the hundreds of thousands gathered around the Ka‘bah, their eyes flowing with unstoppable tears:
لاَ تَهْلِكْ أَسَىً وَتَجَمَّلِ
“Do not perish in grief, and bear it with grace.”
But from among these hundreds of thousands, it was as if each person turned back to say:
وإِنَّ شِفائِي عَبْرَةٌ مُهْرَاقَةٌ
“Indeed, my healing is in these flowing tears.”
How could Imru‘ al-Qais stop them? He had returned to dust centuries ago. Yes, the Ka‘bah was still there where his and other famous poets’ Mu‘allaqat had once hung. And how could the Ka‘bah even stop them? The Ka‘bah watched them weeping and wailing, but remained silent.
The film continued and the Ka‘bah was demolished multiple times. Plagues and other epidemics brought desolation to it; people clinging to its curtains were killed; calamities of war and conflict befell it, and shells and bullets struck its walls, desecrating them.
How sad it is that besides natural disasters, if harm came to the Ka‘bah through human hands, they were the hands of Muslims – ironically, its great lovers and proud custodians. They continued to desecrate the Ka‘bah, but the Ka‘bah remained silent.
Today, when Salik touched the Ka‘bah, it did not break its centuries-old tradition and remained silent. But what did happen was that the Ka‘bah’s silence adjusted the needle of Salik’s compass in the right direction.
Now, Salik was ready for the rites of Umrah and he returned to the circumambulating crowd, aligned his steps with the Hajr al-Aswad, raised his hands to salute it from afar. This stone, like the Ka‘bah to which it was fixed, had always remained silent.
When the chiefs of the Quraysh disputed over who would have the honour to install it, this stone remained silent. Several hundred years after the Holy Prophet’ssa passing, the Qarmatians uprooted this stone, looted it and took it away. In the rampage, they threw mutilated human bodies into the well of Zamzam, contaminating and poisoning the water. The well of Zamzam had also remained silent.
This stone was taken and confined in Al-Ahsa in the eastern region of the Arabian Peninsula. Some twenty years later, in 952 CE, the Abbasid Caliph paid a ransom to retrieve the Hajr al-Aswad and reinstalled it in the Ka‘bah. Muslims looted the Hajr al-Aswad; Muslims paid ransom to retrieve it. The Hajr al-Aswad remained silent. But the Amighty God, its true custodian, was to uphold its honour and sanctity.
A scene from the film further adjusted the needle of Salik’s compass. As he stood aligned with the Hajr al-Aswad, that scene from the film played before his eyes when the Holy Prophetsa, on the day of the conquest of Makkah, performed tawaf without dismounting from his camel. He held a staff in his hand with which he pointed towards the Hajr al-Aswad and, with Allah’s name, began the tawaf. Throughout his life, he had kissed this stone out of love for his illustrious forefather Abrahamas and for the love of Allah. But on this day of great victory, he saluted this stone with the gesture of his staff each time and began new rounds of tawaf while declaring Allah’s greatness.
He was healthy and could have dismounted from his camel. But perhaps he was teaching a lesson to the seekers of his ummah that this stone too will remain silent. The Ka‘batullah too will remain silent. If anything speaks, it will be He who says:
وَاِذَا سَاَلَکَ عِبَادِیۡ عَنِّیۡ فَاِنِّیۡ قَرِیۡبٌ ؕ اُجِیۡبُ دَعۡوَۃَ الدَّاعِ اِذَا دَعَانِ
“And when My servants ask you about Me, indeed I am near. I respond to the invocation of the supplicant when he calls upon Me.”
So, Allah has made it very clear that He alone answers prayer – whether one calls Allah clutching their heart, or clutching the curtains of the Ka‘bah, it is Allah alone Who responds.
Salik did not have a staff. He raised both hands towards the Hajr al-Aswad and began the tawaf of Umrah. The Hajr al-Aswad remained silent and so did the Ka‘bah.
Umm al-Qura: The mother of all dwellings
Salik was residing in the holy city of Makkah. Umm al-Qura – the Mother of Cities. And this city had taken him into its merciful embrace just like a mother which made Salik deeply miss his own mother.
Salik’s mother had died two years ago and he had received the news directly from the hospital staff. This meant that he was the one who informed all his sisters and brother. Everyone wept upon hearing the news, while Salik had to offer consolation as he drove along the motorway towards the hospital. The one doing this duty has to go through the greatest test by having to maintain composure.
From the moment he received the news started a whirlwind of tasks that kept him extremely busy – obtaining necessary documents from relevant authorities, arranging the funeral and burial rites, informing relatives and acquaintances, making arrangements for those coming for condolences, and so on. The burial could only take place about a week later, and this entire week had passed for Salik at a stormy pace, sparing him no time to grieve and mourn his mother. Besides, emotional storms tend to leave Salik numb, and the same had happened then. Thus, the grief of his mother’s death had remained buried somewhere deep down him.
Salik remembered that when his eyes first fell upon the Ka‘bah, among all the faces that floated before his vision, the first was that of his mother’s – the one who had introduced him to the Ka‘bah when he was very young.
One of the earliest memories that Salik had of his childhood was asking his mother about the image printed on the prayer mat. Prayer mats nowadays come in many modern and exotic designs, but in the times of Salik’s childhood, every prayer mat he saw had that same image – a triangle shaped like the Google Drive icon with two tall minarets flanking it on each side.
Salik’s mother had told him that this was the Ka‘bah – Allah’s first house. She would narrate many stories associated with it – the sacrifice of Abrahamas, how Prophet Abrahamas and Ishmaelas had built this house, how idols were placed in it, how the idols were broken, and much more. His mother’s lullabies too were mostly poetry praising Allah and the Holy Prophetsa.
دل میں مرے یہی ہے، تیرا صحیفہ چوموں
قرآن کے گرد گھوموں، کعبہ مرا یہی ہے
“In my heart always is this desire, to kiss Your scripture; and do tawaf around the Quran, as that is my Ka‘bah.”
“Tawaf around the Quran? Mother, why should one do tawaf around the Quran?”
Thus, mother’s innocent stories introduced the innocent Salik to the love of the Quran, the importance of the Ka‘bah, and the concept of tawaf.
So, when that same Ka‘bah was now before his eyes in real life, Salik was overwhelmed with memories of his mother.
That very moment was already too heavy with many emotions, but when Salik returned to his room after completing the Umrah, he wept wholeheartedly and grieved his mother – as if she had just died and her lifeless body lay before him.
The concept of the Ka‘bah that Salik had carried in his heart since childhood was the one woven by his mother – sometimes through the image on the prayer mat, on occasions by showing pictures in calendars or diaries, sometimes by telling stories associated with it.
Although later Salik had seen the Ka‘bah in 4K quality on large TV screens, but the Ka‘bah sculpted by his mother in his imagination could never be erased. Now that the time came to see the Ka‘bah in reality, Salik’s mother was no longer in this world. Salik, curled up in the embrace of Umm al-Qura, continued to lighten his heart’s burden like a child.
Salik also remembered his grandfather – a memory 45 or 46 years old. His dadajan lived abroad and was visiting Pakistan, staying at Salik’s home. Salik was then four or so years old. When his dadajan saw Salik playing with some bricks, he asked him to build the Ka‘bah with them. This was slightly beyond Salik’s motor skills at the time, but he somehow managed to create a cuboid structure. His dadajan was so pleased at this innocent attempt that he took him to the market and bought him barfi from a confectionery shop.
His Dadajan’s expression of so much appreciation created a sweet, yet ironclad edifice of love for the Ka‘bah on the emotional foundations that his mother had already laid. But today, Dadajan was also no more. Yes, his father was still alive, who had played a crucial role in bringing the merely emotional attachment to the Ka‘bah closer to reality by explaining its importance and igniting Salik’s quest to learn more. So father too had remained with Salik in this circular journey of tawaf.
Salik wondered what it was that had suddenly set this flood of memories free. Perhaps it was because leisure had come after a long time; but do memories even care for leisure to wrap around one’s mind?
Salik writes that the reason behind this might have been that when one first glimpses the Ka‘bah, its grandeur, glory and awe dazzle one’s vision. The Ka‘bah turns out to be much bigger than the imagination we build in our minds for years. Everyone has their own experience, but Salik writes that in his opinion, when the real Ka‘bah proves to be much greater than our conceptual and imagined Ka‘bah, everything in our heart and mind becomes magnified; every imagination, every thought, every feeling, every emotion, every idea. Everything!
Like his mother’s grief of death buried under two years of dust; like a forgotten memory of his grandfather from many decades; like the stories and traditions narrated by his father in childhood, everything had outgrown real life proportions.
Every time Salik wished to make a prayer during the tawaf of the Ka‘bah or while being anywhere in Makkah, many small, forgotten, decades-old, dust-covered thoughts and feelings stood before him like giants. So much so that Salik, instead of making other prayers, kept asking for forgiveness for what had now emerged as gigantic sins.
Similarly, during tawaf or on other occasions, those blessings which Salik had taken for granted, and had thus started seeming trivial, stood tall and towered over him: A good wife who becomes like a fixture of the home after 26 years of companionship; her sacrifices, her love, her way of handling household responsibilities so that Salik could focus on his work without worry. His children who, despite being born and raised in the West, were steadfast in faith and regular in practicing it. A daughter-in-law who was actually a daughter-in-deed. Sons-in-law-to-be appeared as already part of his family and remained in his humble prayers. Home and all the blessings connected to it like the facility to keep rooms warm in winter and cool in summer, a comfortable bed, all kinds of food and drink suiting not only need but desire too. A comfortable office, loving and hardworking colleagues, loyal friends. Everything had appeared fully magnified before Salik’s eyes.
Salik writes that even if he were to perform a thousand circuits of tawaf, attempting to express gratitude to Allah at every step for His bounties, the list would remain incomplete – as incomplete as he has recorded in this notebook.
Then sorrows too appeared magnified. A dear young girl afflicted with cancer, mother to two little children – she herself, her suffering, the anguish of her uncertainty, her little children – all stood before Salik as larger-than-life characters. A small dear child who was still nonverbal; the sounds he made in his attempts at speaking began to echo in Salik’s ears, such that all other sounds were drowned out.
Salik’s spiritual guide, each of his favours, each gift, each expression of compassion and love – all appeared to Salik in such magnificent form that he failed to fathom their magnitude.
This was the magic of the Ka‘bah and the wonder of Umm al-Qura and the charm of this town where the patience, perseverance, and contentment of the Holy Prophetsa still clung to air and the environs of this holy city.
When his mother departed from him at a very young age, the Prophetsa demonstrated patience over his orphanhood in this very town. When he was disheartened by the contaminated society of his time, it was the power of patience that took him to an extremely high mountain.
When Salik set out one evening determined to climb this mountain, he couldn’t figure out why he had suddenly decided to visit Jabal al-Nur. But, by then, he was already seated in the taxi, which was now proceeding to drop him at the foot of this mountain.
Upon reaching the base of Jabal al-Nur, he discovered that an exhibition about the Cave of Hira – the pinnacle of this mountain – had been set up right there. He visited this exhibition where, at the final stage, they had created a life-size replica of the Cave of Hira, with every stone placed in its exact arrangement. One could even enter it and stand upright – just as much one could in the real Cave of Hira. Having seen the exhibition and viewing this replica, Salik wondered if it was still necessary to go all the way up. He had seen everything, after all!
But there was something in Salik’s heart pulling him towards this hike. Something made him feel bound to climb up, compelled to not give up. But what was there at this peak that was pulling him upward?
Salik later realised that it was the power of his Prophet’s patience and perseverance that pulled and pushed and dragged him all the way to the top; that grief-stricken heart which was crushed by sorrows, which sought separation from a corrupt society, and desired liberation from the immoral environment; that heart which, through patience and contentment, hoping for social reformation from Allah; that heart which would remember Allah there in solitude and call out to Him in profound yearning; that heart which would become the practical manifestation of “I only complain of my suffering and my grief to Allah.”
So it was this story of perseverance and contentment written on every stone of Jabal al-Nur and on every step leading up.
When the Holy Prophetsa was taunted for being “abtar” (with no male issue) due to lacking male progeny, he never complained to his Lord saying, “On the one hand, You tell me I am the reason for all creation, yet You cannot give me a son!” He remained content with Allah’s will and demonstrated patience.
When filth was thrown upon him during prayer in this very town, he still demonstrated patience. When he and his followers were confined to a valley, he demonstrated patience. He was given sorrows and hardships, excommunicated, expelled from this town, and yet he demonstrated patience. He conquered all of Arabia, obtained absolute power, wealth, grandeur, riches, and authority – everything – yet when he returned to this settlement, he still overlooked all those past persecutions and granted amnesty to every resident of this city. Thus, the Holy Prophetsa painted this settlement with the hues of patience and contentment.
This was character – pure patience and contentment – of the Holy Prophet’s town, Umm al-Qura.
So what could Salik ask from his Lord in this enchanted town where lay scattered the beautiful colours of the Holy Prophet’s patience and contentment. He didn’t have the courage to express any desire and wish. All he could do was express gratitude to his Lord for those bounties that now appeared colossal to him and overshadowed any desire.
For his own and others’ worries that appeared as tall as the Ka‘bah’s walls, he sought strength to practice patience and remain content. He sought blessings, goodness, and welfare in whatever had been granted to him. In this town of spiritual beauty, this dwelling of patience and contentment, where would he find the courage to make demands and worldly requests?
Dhakhir: The arc-de-triumph of Mecca
From the hotel room, Salik could see mountains of Makkah surrounding the entire landscape. He could see skyscrapers and new buildings that were still under construction, but catching up with their neighbouring high-rise towers. Between two tall buildings, he could see the road below where cars and trucks passed by.
Salik was never one to stay indoors during the day, but during his stay in Makkah, he would return to his room several times during the day. He would spend some time watching that road which appeared very distant and far below from the thirteenth floor, and then try to resolve some of his questions that he had brought along from London.
Some questions were work-related, which he tried to resolve by visiting relevant departments, but there were others that were of personal interest. He didn’t want to enter Makkah just casually. He wanted to feel Makkah. Granted that the Holy Prophetsa had spent most of his life in Makkah with patience and contentment, but Western scholarship and anti-Islam circles claim that it was a time of the Holy Prophet’s helplessness and powerlessness. What else could he do but be patient? They say that when power and wealth were obtained in Medina, then (God forbid) he wielded the sword unrestrained.
So, Salik had come here to feel the moments of the Conquest of Makkah when, alongside his prophetic mission, the Holy Prophet’s worldly power was at its peak. At that time, his pardoning of all the people of Makkah and ignoring the persecution they had put him through, was the highest example of patience and compassion. That moment when this amnesty was announced – how must it have manifested?
When setting off for the journey to the land of Hijaz, Salik had aimed that he would try to feel that moment. The return journey from Medina towards the town of birth, childhood, youth and the onset of his middle age – his very own town.
The Holy Prophetsa was accompanied by a military contingent of ten thousand soldiers, among which, each soldier was fearlessly ready to lay their life.
So how did this return to Makkah happen? Through which route? From where had this holy force passed under the leadership of Rahmatun-lil-aalamin – the mercy for all worlds? Salik wanted to walk this path once and absorb the feel of it. Besides roaming in and around the Haram, this search was his only occupation during his stay in Makkah.
As far as he could gather information about this journey, he had learned that the Holy Prophetsa had thousands of fires lit upon reaching Marr al-Zahran so that this victory would not be called a surprise raid, but rather the Quraysh of Makkah would be warned that an army was descending upon them.
Another challenge was that the names of places either varied in every other book or were old names that could no longer be traced on modern maps.
Salik had brought his collected data with him. On the first day, when he sat in a taxi in Makkah, he asked the taxi driver with confidence, “Where is Jabal Qa‘qi‘an?” The taxi driver looked at Salik in amazement and expressed his ignorance through his facial expressions and entire body language. “Then you must know where Jabal Hindi is?” The same innocent ignorance to this as well. Then he tried to find out from every taxi driver he came across, every information office but it seemed as if he was enquiring about some alien concepts.
Salik had to leave for Medina the next day and had only one day left before that. That morning, he arrived at a state institute which is all about Makkah. There, a young librarian listened to Salik’s whole matter and although he too expressed cluelessness about Jabal Qa‘qi‘an and Jabal Hindi, he generously took him to that section of the department where English books on Makkah’s history and geography were shelved.
Along with this, he opened some research theses on a computer which, although in Arabic, were made much easier to understand, thanks to the miraculous invention of Google Lens.
After spending a few hours here and understanding various documents through Google Lens, the route of the Holy Prophet’s entry into Makkah began to unfold. And in this blessed route, one such spot emerged that made Salik spring up, gather everything and run back towards his hotel. He stormed out in such a rush that he could only hastily thank his benefactor librarian there. Waiting for a taxi became unbearable, and more so the brief journey to the hotel.
Salik’s hotel was in the Thakher area. This area was once beyond the fringes of Makkah but had now become very much a part of Makkah proper. This hotel had been recommended by a friend who had been to Makkah some time ago. When his friend sent him the hotel’s website link, he found the area’s name a bit strange: Thakher. He couldn’t understand what “Thakurs” were doing in Makkah but the hotel looked good and so did the reviews. The friend also testified to a very good experience, so ignoring the Thakur issue, Salik had booked the hotel.
Upon reaching Makkah, when he told the taxi driver that he needed to go to the hotel located in Thakher, the poor chap just looked back blank not getting what he meant. Then when he showed it on the map, the driver spontaneously said “Oh, Dhakhir!” That’s when Salik learned that the area’s name was pronounced as Dhakhir.
Today, as Salik was searching for the Holy Prophet’s route into Makkah, connecting small and tricky pieces of the jigsaw, he found this new trace of the final portion of that journey.
It was written that the Holy Prophetsa entered Makkah from Dhakhir, and that this area is situated somewhat outside Makkah at some elevation. It also said that this route is now a road called Ri‘ al-Dhakhir.
Salik’s emotions leaped to his throat. The road he had been seeing for so many days between the height of two under-construction buildings was indeed Ri‘ al-Dhakhir. He had been staying for several days and nights at the very place where the Holy Prophetsa and his victorious caravan had passed.
The taxi reached the hotel through the same route. He almost ran to his room and began looking down at Ri‘ al-Dhakhir – the road where the Holy Prophetsa had once passed. When the people of Makkah were in such anxiety that the fires they had seen on the height of Marr al-Zahran indicated a very large army. Then when Abu Sufyan learned that this was the army of the Holy Prophetsa he lost his senses, imagining that now there would be no salvation for him and the people of Makkah.
The Holy Prophetsa divided his army into four contingents and ordered all four to enter Makkah from different directions. He himself was proceeding from Ri‘ al-Dhakhir. The command of one army was entrusted to Sa‘d bin Ubada. When Sa‘d passed by Abu Sufyan, he said:
اليوم يوم الملحمة ۔ اليوم تسبى الحرمة
“Today, there will be great bloodshed. Today, the sanctity of the Ka‘bah will be reversed.”
When this matter came to the Holy Prophet’s knowledge, he said:
بل اليوم يوم المرحمة، اليوم أعز الله قريشا
“No! Today the Ka‘bah will be honoured and the Quraysh will be granted dignity.” While saying this, he issued the instruction that the army’s leadership should be taken from Sa‘d, lest there be bloodshed. With this, all armies were instructed that there would be no fighting that day, except in self-defence.
So the Holy Prophet’s heart was filled with mercy even for his worst enemies as he passed through Ri‘ al-Dhakhir. In his humility, he was bowing so low that his blessed beard was touching the howdah of his camel.
That Ri‘ al-Dhakhir was now before Salik. There must have been a moment in this journey when the Holy Prophetsa had passed through this very point. Salik wanted to walk this path but evening had fallen. The calls for Maghrib prayer were echoing everywhere, reverberating off the mountains in Makkah’s holy environ. He still had to visit the Haram and the next morning he had to go to Medina. If only some part of the day remained!
Medina al-Munawwara: The illuminated city
The next morning, Salik called for a taxi and departed towards the Haramayn Qitar Sari‘ (Haramayn High-Speed Railway) station. His stay in Medina was for two days, and then Salik had to return to Makkah for one evening and a night. Then from Makkah to Jeddah and from Jeddah back to London.
He left Makkah for Medina with the little bit of consolation that even if for a short while, he still had to return to Makkah.
The Haramayn Railway Station put European stations to shame – squeaky clean, even gleaming. Equipped with all modern means of information and announcements, and a very organised arrangement for boarding passengers onto the train in queues. The punctuality of departures and arrivals was the one that Salik had not witnessed even in Europe.
When the train set off, the screen in front showed that the train was running at a speed of three hundred kilometres per hour and the outside temperature was 35 degrees. Between Makkah and Medina lay the same desert and stood the same mountains that existed at the time of al-Hijra – the Holy Prophet’s migration to Medina.
Sitting in the train, one could neither feel the outside weather nor those tumultuous challenges that must have befallen the Holy Prophetsa traveling on foot and on camels and horses, not to mention being followed by enemies in their bloodthirsty pursuit. They wanted to capture the Holy Prophetsa, dead or alive.
Salik thought that if he were to say he had even witnessed the difficulties of this journey, it would be far from truth. How could there be hardship in such a journey where the temperature was not just suitable but pleasant. Where trolleys of tea, coffee, cold drinks, and various refreshments kept coming through the aisles. Where there were clean, private facilities for answering nature’s call, with excellent sanitation amenities? Where one could recline comfortably, doze off, or like the passenger sitting next to Salik, fall into a deep sleep (and snore).
All this while having the reassurance that the luxury transport was doing its work, and the passenger’s only task was to reach the destination and proceed to comfortable homes or hotel rooms.
Salik opened his books whenever he wished and began reading, and when he desired, he worked on his iPad. All his work was preserved in this single tablet. He had first come to Jeddah from London with his research, his work, and numerous documents on this iPad. After completing his work there and gathering the required information on the same tablet, he had gone to Makkah. Now he was taking to Medina the information he had further collected in Makkah.
He pondered that the Holy Prophetsa had not only endured the physical and climatic hardships of this journey but numerous concerns must have weighed on his heart and mind. Back then, forget iPads, even paper wasn’t available. The Quranic verses revealed in Makkah, preserved on bones, stones, and leather pieces – how were they securely carried during the Hijrah? Who carried them? The Muhajirin? Or the Holy Prophetsa himself? Or did Hazrat Alira or other Muhajirin bring them later? Or was reliance placed solely on the huffaz (those who had memorised the Quran)?
Without much thought, Salik immediately utilised another modern convenience while traversing this route that cut through desolate deserts and rocky mountains. He searched the internet to see if any research had been done on this matter. Even after spending considerable time and conducting search after search, he found that there was no detail, no conjecture, not even an attempt at research. After all, almost three-quarters of the total Quranic verses had been revealed in Makkah. How were they safely transferred to Medina?
Was any divine revelation, any Quranic verse revealed during this most crucial turning point in Islamic history – the journey of Hijrah? Salik kept searching. He found verses that spoke of the excellence of the companions who migrated. He also found where there was reference to the Holy Prophet’s and his companion Abu Bakr’s migration. Where the Holy Prophetsa had said:
لَا تَحۡزَنۡ اِنَّ اللّٰہَ مَعَنَا
“Do not grieve. Indeed, Allah is with us.”
In the same verse, Allah also mentioned that during the Hijrah, He was with both of them, and:
اَیَّدَہٗ بِجُنُوۡدٍ
“Allah’s supporting forces were also present”.
فَاَنۡزَلَ اللّٰہُ سَکِیۡنَتَہٗ
And “Allah sent down tranquillity upon them”.
So, had Allah remained completely silent during the eight-day journey of Hijrah? Or was this Allah’s way of informing the Holy Prophetsa and his ummah that descent of divine tranquillity and provision of support and help also held the status of divine communication and communion?
This journey, which the Holy Prophetsa completed in eight days, Salik completed in two hours, and the train had arrived at Medina station.
He called for a taxi, which arrived within a couple of minutes. The taxi had barely left the station when the driver pointed to a mountain visible ahead and informed that it was Mount Uhud. Salik asked startled: “This is Mount Uhud?” The driver replied calmly, “It is indeed.”
This was a strange, surreal moment. The same Uhud that Salik, like every Muslim child, had heard about since childhood. While Salik already had brief knowledge about the battle that took place here, his spiritual guide had also given very detailed sermons about this battle. All of his spiritual guide’s words about Uhud seemed to appear written on the mountain before Salik’s eyes. Without any effort, without any hesitation, Mount Uhud was before Salik’s eyes, about which the Holy Prophetsa said:
إِنَّ أُحُدًا جَبَلٌ يُحِبُّنَا وَنُحِبُّهُ
“Uhud is a mountain which loves us and which we love.”
The taxi driver was a simple but clever man. Seeing Salik’s enthusiasm, the driver realised he was new to Medina. He suggested that if he wanted to see the other sacred sites, they could go now.
But Salik’s appointment time for Riyad-ul-Jannah was very close. He needed to reach the hotel, refresh himself, and present himself at Riyadh-ul-Jannah and the rawdha of the Prophetsa. So he explained his situation to the driver who asked when the appointment was. Upon Salik’s response, the driver said he would come to his hotel exactly half an hour after that time and then they would go. He made this entire plan himself, making things easier for Salik.
But for now, Salik’s predicament was that as soon as he set foot on Medina’s soil and thought about the approaching time of presence at the rawdha, his mother’s voice kept echoing in his ears.
وہ پیشوا ہمارا، جس سے ہے نور سارا
نام اس کا ہے محمدؐ، دلبر مرا یہی ہے
“That leader of ours from whom comes all light; his name is Muhammad, He alone is my beloved.”
Salik had memorised this verse and many others from his mother’s lullabies. All these verses had become embedded in Salik’s memory through his mother’s bedtime stories. As these lines echoed in his ears, along came his mother’s distinct, simple tune as well.
Salik’s childhood was spent in a town where radio was the biggest source of entertainment in those days. Radio Pakistan would broadcast naats (poetry in praise of the Prophet) morning and evening.
One naat that his mother would recite (sing rather) with great enthusiasm, was also played from Radio Pakistan, but the way she would recite it had a special element of devotion:
“Ya Nabi salam alaika. Ya Rasul salam alaika.
“Ya Habib salam alaika; salawatullahi alaika.”
(O Prophet, peace be upon you. O Messenger, peace be upon you. O Beloved, peace be upon you; Allah’s blessings be upon you.)
رحمتوں کے تاج والے، دو جہاں کے راج والے ۔۔۔
(Bearer of the crown of mercies, sovereign of both worlds…), and thus the verses would continue. But the verses his mother often sang, Salik remembered them from then until now, and today they were coming back to life – both the verses and his mother. Even after more than four decades.
رنج و غم کھائے ہوئے ہیں، دور سے آئے ہوئے ہیں، ہاتھ پھیلائے ہوئے ہیں
(Bearing grief and sorrow, we have come from afar; devoted to you completely, with outstretched hands we stand…)
“Ya Nabi salam alaika. Ya Rasul salam alaika.
“Ya Habib salam alaika; salawatullahi alaika.”
Just as he had presented himself before the Ka‘bah with his mother, today too his mother was accompanying him to the blessed rawdha of the Prophetsa, reciting durood with her signature enthusiasm.
How could she have not accompanied him? It was she who had first acquainted Salik with the love of the Holy Prophetsa; instilled in Salik’s heart the importance of reading durood; reminded Salik every time he forgot to say durood upon mention of the Holy Prophetsa. It was she who had told the story of the old woman who used to throw garbage.
“So one day, what happened …”
His mother’s words rang in Salik’s ears. Even at this moment, it was as if Salik was listening to his mother’s stories, with the wonder and wide-eyed attention of a young child – stories steeped in the love of the Holy Prophetsa.
The stages of reaching the hotel, refreshing, and preparing to present himself at the rawdha passed very quickly. There was very little time anyway. Fortunately, Salik’s hotel was directly opposite Masjid al-Nabawi, so Salik crossed the road and was already walking in the courtyard of Masjid al-Nabawi.
The echoes of “Ya Nabi salam alaika. Ya Rasul salam alaika” were resonating in his imagination. His mother was with him. Just as an elder person accompanies someone to introduce them to an important personality, Salik’s mother had come along. Perhaps to intercede, saying, “O Messenger of Allah, I tried to instil your love in this child’s heart, such that he should love you above all else. But he is my child, and a very naïve one. I don’t know if I succeeded or not, but please overlook his mistakes and shortcomings. You know that I had true and genuine love for you, O Prophetsa. I would recite naats in your praise with passion, morning through evening. I bore six children, tried to instil your love in their hearts. I could not present myself here before you, O Messengersa, but for the sake of my love, my efforts, if only for my sake, please grant this child of mine permission to present himself at your threshold.”
When the surge of people intensified in the rows of Riyadh-ul-Jannah, his mother let go of his hand. Now Salik was alone in this crowd. Everyone was trying to get ahead in their eagerness to present themselves. There was pushing and shoving, so it was good that his mother had brought Salik only up to here and then let go of his hand. But from somewhere far away, the sound of his mother singing naats could still reach Salik’s ears:
“We have come from afar, bearing grief and sorrow, with outstretched hands.”
The time allotted to Salik was shared by thousands of other devotees. All were ushered from one place to another, from the second to the third, and finally into Riyadh-ul-Jannah.
This duration of being there turned out to be a very brief period. He didn’t even get time to contemplate deeply on the sanctity of the place. He kept remembering all those for whom he had to pray. He remembered his spiritual guide. He remembered his mother who had departed two years ago but had emerged from somewhere today and was reciting naats in the courtyard of Masjid al-Nabawi.
He remembered his father who had built strong walls of connection with the Holy Prophetsa. He remembered his wife, his children. He remembered his siblings and the childhood days spent with them. He remembered every friend who had asked to be remembered. He remembered his colleagues. And just as Salik was straightening out this list, it was time to move forward. Salik writes that he remembered them all, which was itself a blessing. For how else does he even know how to pray?
Salik gazed intently at that simple mihrab where once the Holy Prophetsa had offered his prostrations and supplicated before Allah. He saw that pulpit where the Prophetsa had addressed his ummah with words about which Allah said:
وَمَا یَنۡطِقُ عَنِ الۡہَوٰی اِنۡ ہُوَ اِلَّا وَحۡیٌ یُّوۡحٰی
“He does not speak of his own desire. It is naught but revelation revealed.”
When two lovers of the Holy Prophetsa on either side are spreading their shawls (and knees) in a very confined space, asking the Lord of all worlds for blessings of both worlds, whatever prayer one could offer by contracting oneself, Salik got to just about offer it. Now Salik was in that crowd that was gradually passing before the blessed rawdha – the last resting place of the Holy Prophetsa.
The crowd was so dense that feet could barely be lifted, so they were very slowly dragging. But this had the advantage that everyone got a few moments before the rawdha of the Prophetsa.
These moments were granted to Salik who had always imagined them: What a strange moment it would be! And a strange moment it was.
This was the only place where one has complete certainty that the Holy Prophetsa was once present here. This was the location of Hazrat Aishah’sra chamber. Where he had entrusted his soul to his Lord. Where Aishahra was asked if the Prophetsa had ever expressed a wish about where he should be buried, and Aishahra had confirmed that he left no such will. However, Abu Bakr al-Siddiqra said that the Holy Prophetsa had once stated that a prophet is buried where he dies.
Thus, it was decided, and after placing the Holy Prophet’ssa blessed body aside, his grave was dug at the very spot where he had passed away, and there he was laid to rest.This was the same place that was visible through a hole between the golden grilles.
The Holy Prophet’ssa illness, which had begun with a headache, had first struck at Hazrat Maimuna’sra residence. He sought permission from all his wives to spend these days of illness at Hazrat Aishah’sra place. Upon receiving permission, he came to this place that was now before Salik’s eyes. He wanted to address his companions, but the attack of illness and weakness was severe. At this, he said, “Pour water-skins over me so that I might gain enough strength to counsel my companions.” Those water-skins were poured over him at this very spot that was now before Salik. When the final moment came, this Prophetsa who had always relied solely on Allah’s support and help, surrendered his soul to Allah saying:
اللَّهُمَّ الرَّفِيقَ الْأَعْلَى
These blessed words were uttered at this very spot that was now before Salik. Then the Holy Prophetsa had taken his last breath at the very spot that was now before Salik.
Salik kept sliding forward. He who never liked to sit or stay in crowds, today wished that the crowd would remain thus, or even grow denser so that he might get a few more moments here.
But what was he to say here? What could he say besides invoking durood? His heart desired to report the current state of the Prophet’s ummah. But this was hardly the moment to recite laments about the ummah.
And also the time for saying anything had passed anyway. Salik’s gaze could still see that groove behind which lay the blessed rawdha of the Holy Prophetsa. He had said in his lifetime, “Do not make me after my death what the Christians made of Jesus.”
So how could one converse with the Holy Prophetsa here? It was his rawdha, not him. Hazrat Abu Bakrra had announced his passing at this very spot, and had also made this magnificent declaration that “those who worship Muhammadsa should know that Muhammadsa has passed away. And those who worshipped Allah should remember that Allah is indeed Ever-Living and never dies.”
Thus the Prophet’s rawdha is indeed a most blessed place, but like the Ka‘bah, it too remains silent. And the Lord of the Ka‘bah and the Lord of Muhammad is One and is everywhere.
So, before the rawdha, standing in front of Aishah’sra chamber, Salik addressed the Merciful Lord and said:
“I too am, O Lord, a prey caught in the net of Muhammad’s love;
“My heart sings his praises; my lips chant his name.
“Let my eyes also witness his appearance at the threshold.
“Let the ears be filled with the sweetness of his every graceful step.
“Grant me too the charity of his public manifestation;
“Then let it be that his words inspire my heart.”
These moments passed in the blink of an eye. But had eyes even blinked there? The eyes had remained searching for something unseen. Salik was now thrust out. His mother was no longer in the courtyard. She had brought him to where she had strived and struggled to bring him since the day of his birth – to the feet of Muhammadsa, the Holy Prophet. In the crowd, his mother had let go of his hand and had vanished again.
Salik realised that just as the Holy Prophetsa had said while departing this world that “I leave among you two things – the Quran and my sunnah”, similarly, Muslim parents plant the seeds of love for the Holy Quran and the Holy Prophetsa in their children’s hearts and entrust them to these two precious charms. We too have to do the same. But have we ourselves held firmly to these two things? Are we passing these two gifts to our next generation?
Walking in the footsteps of mercy
The high-speed train was racing once again, but now from Medina towards Makkah. During his stay in Medina, Salik had the opportunity to read some history and geography of Medina at a library. Until then, he had not known that Medina was situated in a volcanic region and its soil was formed from volcanic lava. South of Medina lies the volcanic field called Harrat Rahat, which consists of nearly five hundred volcanic mountains. This is the largest volcanic field on Saudi Arabia, covering an area of 20,000 square kilometres.
The last time lava erupted from the northern mountains of this field was in 1256 CE, reaching the outskirts of Medina but stopping just 20 kilometres from Masjid al-Nabawi. The one before that erupted in 641 CE, approximately a decade after the demise of the Holy Prophetsa. That lava flow had spread to the east of present-day Medina city, stopping, again, just 20 kilometres or so from Masjid al-Nabawi. Today, Medina has expanded onto this lava-formed land – basalt as they call it – and the Haramayn high-speed rail station is also built upon it, along with many modern buildings and facilities.
Experts say these volcanoes are still active and could erupt any time. Salik’s heart, accustomed to embracing concerns, left Medina with the worry that these volcanoes might become active again. They are already active; the volcanic vents in this field could spew lava at any time, and God knows how far it might spread.
But what gave his heart solace was the experts’ assertion that Harrat Rahat’s volcanic cycle activates every 3,300 years. Although between 641 CE and 1256 CE, the gap wasn’t of three thousand years but merely six hundred.
Yet, on both occasions, Allah the Almighty protected the blessed rawdha. The lava stopped just short of reaching it.
During this journey to the Haramayn, Salik’s spiritual compass, wavering here and there, kept finding the right direction.
First, he had realised that the Ka‘bah remains silent. Whether its walls are cracked, whether it is demolished through warfare, or whether floods wash away its majestic structure – the Ka‘bah remains silent. The Ka‘bah itself is inanimate. Then, regarding the rawdha of the Prophetsa, the thought that the Holy Prophetsa said, “Do not deify me, but call upon the same God who is my God and your God. The God of both the Ka‘bah and Baitul Maqdis.” The One Who is present everywhere, be it the holy environs of Makkah or the irreligious atmosphere of the West. So then, isn’t the rawdha of the Prophetsa also an inanimate object?
When Fakhri Pasha fought against the governors of Makkah, he had stored artillery inside the Prophet’s rawdha. The rawdha remained silent. When both armies hurled ammunition at each other and Masjid al-Nabawi was wounded, the rawdha remained silent. So if the Ka‘bah and the rawdha are so lifeless, what is their significance?
But now, new revelations were occurring to Salik. His recent brief research revealed that Allah Himself is the guardian of the honour, dignity, and sanctity of the Haramayn: Ne‘m al-Wakil – the Best of Guardians. Lava erupting from powerful volcanic mountains stops before reaching Masjid al-Nabawi and the Prophet’s rawdha.
When Abraha’s army marched from Yemen towards the Ka‘bah via Muzdalifah and Mina, the attack of the ababeel birds in Mina forced his mighty army to retreat. The Ka‘bah remained protected.
So while floods, storms, warfare, bloodshed, and destruction occur, the Ka‘bah remains silent. But when someone sets out to demolish it with the intention of replacing it with another deity, though the Ka‘bah still remains silent, the Lord of the Ka‘bah Himself shows His jealous care for the sanctity of this blessed house and sanctuary.
This secret was revealed by Abdul Muttalib to Abraha in these words:
أنا رب الإبل، وإن للبيت ربا سيمنعه
“I am the master of the camels [so I care for them]. The Ka‘bah has Allah as its master; He Himself will be its Guardian and Protector.”
So the Ka‘bah may remain silent, Allah the Almighty Himself maintains the honour of the Ka‘bah and its sanctity.
Similarly, who says the rawdha of the Holy Prophetsa is silent? The rawdha speaks. In fact, it proclaims that if Allah’s greatest Prophet could die after living his natural life, then the Quranic testimony is fulfilled that:
وَمَا مُحَمَّدٌ اِلَّا رَسُوۡلٌ ۚ قَدۡ خَلَتۡ مِنۡ قَبۡلِہِ الرُّسُلُ
“Muhammad is but a Messenger. All Messengers before him have passed away.”
If Muhammadsa could pass away, then no prophet could escape death after their natural life. Abu Bakr’sra first decree was based on this very verse, at this very place where the rawdha stands today and will remain forever. Allah will protect its sanctity to maintain this testimony, regardless of how many volcanoes erupt and how much lava flows from them towards it.
For now, Salik was eager to reach Makkah. The train was arriving at three in the afternoon, and he wanted to immediately walk the path through which the Holy Prophetsa had returned to Makkah.
The taxi stopped in front of the hotel, passing through Ri‘ al-Dhakhir. Salik didn’t need to make any preparations. He just glanced at his notes and set out on the path he had been yearning to walk.
The Holy Prophet’ssa caravan was at Marr al-Zahran, where bonfires were lit to inform the people of Makkah that a mighty force was approaching. But where is this Marr al-Zahran? When its name couldn’t be found on modern maps, research revealed that this area is now known as Wadi Fatimah. It is north of Makkah and at an elevation, which is why the light from the bonfires lit there had reached Makkah.
The next morning, departing from Marr al-Zahran (Wadi Fatimah), the Holy Prophetsa began descending into the valley of Makkah with his entire army. The path through which he entered Makkah, passing through Jabal Kada, is today called Ri‘ al-Dhakhir. Here, he divided his army and instructed them to enter Makkah from different directions, directing all contingents to join him at Jabal Hindi.
He himself, with his army, proceeded to Jabal Hindi via the spring of Tuwa. From here, he could see all the contingents.
The Prophetsa instructed Zubair ibn al-Awamra to take his standard and plant it at Hajun. This was the part of Jabal Hajun adjacent to Khadijah’sra grave in Jannat al-Mu‘alla. From here, he entered Makkah with his entire army and, without resting, presented himself at Baitullah Sharif, performed tawaf, and carried out the historic task of purifying the Ka‘bah from idols.
As soon as Salik exited the hotel, Ri‘ al-Dhakhir was right in front of him. He started walking on it. A short distance ahead was the Jannat al-Mu‘alla cemetery. It only opens for visitors after Fajr and Asr prayers. Coincidentally, it was still the after-Asr window, so Salik entered and inquired about Hazrat Khadijah’s grave, offered his respects, and when he looked up, he saw the spot of Hajun. By chance, this part of the mountain is still intact, otherwise, many mountains around Makkah have been mercilessly demolished, disregarding their religious and historical significance.
Carried out in the name of Masjid al-Haram’s expansion, the project is seen as sacred. However, in place of these mountains and the signs of the most important period of Islamic history associated with them, modern sky-touching hotels have been built, or magnificent roads run through tunnels beneath them.
Jabal Qu‘aiqian and Jabal Hindi themselves are affected by the al-Shamiya expansion project. One cannot even reach there now with construction work rapidly underway. However, merely being able to identify it and face it to invoke blessings on the Holy Prophetsa seemed like a privilege in its own right.
A fort was built on Jabal Hindi during the Ottoman Empire era. Similarly, there was a large Ottoman-era fort on Jabal Ajyad, where the Clock Tower stands today, reaching out to the sky, built at a cost of 16 billion dollars. Construction work continues on Jabal Hindi, but the fort there has also been demolished. Jabal Hindi has disappeared from the map as part of the projects running in the name of Masjid al-Haram’s expansion. Behind all this, one can sense an underlying antipathy towards the remnants of the Ottoman Empire. If this is so, is it religiously, historically, and morally justified to destroy the historical signs of early Islam only for their association to Ottoman reminders?
As Salik found an answer to one question, many others arose. The Holy Prophetsa entered Makkah through the path of Jabal Kada and then gathered all army divisions on Jabal Hindi. Imam Suyuti has narrated a hadith in Jawahir al-Asrar that the Imam Mahdi would descend at a place called Kad‘ah. When mentioning those who would bring back faith from the Pleiades in the Latter Days, he placed his hand on Salman al-Farisi’sra shoulder and indicated that this Latter-Day Imam would be from the non-Arabs (ajami), emerging from the east of Arabia. Then, his stopping and assembling his companions at Jabal Hindi during the conquest of Makkah. Was the Holy Prophet indicating to his ummah that in the Latter Days, the source of the ummah’s salvation would be towards the east, in the direction of India? Salman al-Farisira. Kad‘ah. Jabal Hindi. Many more questions had taken birth in Salik’s mind.
Now Salik was eager to return to London and search for answers to these questions. He also wanted to examine why historians have differed about the route of the conquest of Mecca? Can one specific route be determined from these opinions? Why was Jabal Hindi named in relation to Hind (India)? These and many more questions begged answers.
But for now, it was time to return. A visit to the Ka‘bah. Then one night. And the next morning, departure from Jeddah to London.
Back to the temptress world
Salik’s flight arrived at London Heathrow at five in the evening. The same friend who had earnestly encouraged him to go for Umrah had come to receive him. He wanted to hear about all of Salik’s experiences firsthand and first of all. But how could all these experiences be narrated during the short journey from the airport to home? And then there were various mixed emotions. How could all that be expressed?
Salik’s family was also waiting. They too were eager to hear the tales of this experience. Salik continued telling them all things of their interest.
Salik had been sent back to the world from Jannat al-Firdaus (Paradise). That night when Salik slept, several nights’ worth of pending sleep claimed its due. But this doesn’t mean he slept for very long.
Both in sleep and upon waking early in the morning, a question kept circulating in Salik’s mind: What does presence in the Haramayn – the two Holy cities – give to a person? Allah is the same there as He is here. So why such excellence in these places? Why is there something special about the prayers offered there? Then there are those who will never be able to visit the Haramayn. What is their fault? And this common saying among those intending to visit Haramayn that “We received a calling from Allah and His messenger!” Why does this calling only come to those who can afford visas and air tickets? Why don’t these callings come to the poor?
So then how can presence in the Haramayn transform us if many of our brothers and sisters might never be able to go there? Is presence there a condition for true repentance?
These questions raised quite a storm in Salik’s heart and mind. But then, he came to understand that going there is indeed a matter of great fortune. The places whose sanctity Allah Himself has acknowledged cannot be ordinary places. The experience of going there is what we call “touching base”. To go to the original source of one’s faith and see that if Allah could raise such a revolution from these rocky mountains and barren desert that illuminated the whole world, then what is it that Allah can’t do?
That Allah can heal. That Allah can forgive. That Allah can also lay the foundation of a revolution within a person’s heart. Thus, presence in the Haramayn introduces a person to the essence of their faith. It draws a line between the past life and the life that lies ahead. But what we do thereafter depends entirely on no one but ourselves.
How we use our will over our actions is our deed, and reward or punishment is based solely on that, apart from Allah’s mercy.
The next morning, Salik went to work. He got ready as usual. Searched for clothes in his wardrobe as usual. The time for wearing two simple sheets of ihram had passed. Sitting in his car, heading towards London city, he set the car on the road – the time of tawaf on foot had also been left behind. He found the same office, the same desk, his same chair. The time for sitting on the ground in a patch of shade in the courtyard of the Ka‘ba had also passed. There were many emails demanding responses. The Ka‘ba, the Mataf, and the Mas‘a would float before his eyes, but along with them, a text message, a phone call, an email would bring him back. Salik had left the orbit and fallen back into the void of the world.
While going home in the evening, Salik thought about penning down his emotions. But it seems that the world had taken him in its grip, and we are having to do with what we found in his notebook.
