You can never fall apart with Makkah, the Masjid and its people. Something magical bound us together.
We stepped onto mataf around 2am and the place was still buzzing with people trying to finish the umrah before Fajr time. It was a long day for us but being here rejuvenated the minds and made me strong and excited again. The very reason why me and the millions of others kept coming no matter how hard it was to manage everything.
No matter what this place belongs to the Muslim world. The history that was told and narrated since the beginning of time has become the pegs that strengthen our faith. The Kaaba, Safa ,Marwah and all the stories behind them put a framework of belief into our life. So living can be reasoned and guided. As we grow older, perspectives and landscapes of our belief system change maybe for the better or otherwise. Renewals of the fundamentals than somewhat necessary.
I walked down the old corridor along the mataf perimeter, all of the sudden my struggles, hopes and doa during last Ramadhan came surging to my head. Looked around and none of my friends were there; my Ramadhan friends from everywhere that with the same hopes and expectations became friends for 30 odd days I was there. Maybe they are working in the fields for the final harvest of the year or preparing for the cold weather coming their way. I may not see them again but hope they are always under the blessings of Allah.
The familiar sound of the mosque police and the Bangla cleaners made my return to this Holy Masjid somewhat pleasant. The recitals that came through the loud speakers sound as divinely as they could be; reaching right into the troubled hearts. As I stood in prayers in-front of Kaabah , my hearts rested and went into a silent mode. I felt alone and isolated despite the buzzing sound of thousands of people around me.
“O Allah Let me start again. I will be good.” I heard myself saying; a simple promise to do my life all over again.
The street hawkers were there despising the lurking eyes of the police. I love their determination and simple business. Most merchandise was either ten or five rials. Easy for the customers like me to remember and calculate financially.
Zuhr time. The hot day was at its peak and you could feel the heat gets into your bones. Do I need a scarf to cover my head? Sarban? I really don’t wear head cover but in this weather you can’t go out bare headed.
I went to get some olives on the way back. They are hard to find in Madinah. That’s something unique in Makkah— you could find all types of food here due to various communities exist in the city. I love olives and In Makkah they sell them by weight not the ones in bottles or cans. Twenty rials for a kilo. I felt heavenly.
The ‘Asr crowd was minimal but still chaotic.
For Maghrib we were late. As usual I supposed. But the lesser crowd meant that the gates remained open until the azan was called. The crowd control was peculiar but I just followed the line and we almost ended up at the dead end. Swift action taken and we managed to secure a place just before the azan.
Anyway, as the day started to draw its curtain, a beautiful night emerged with awesome sky and glittering stars. Nighttime is another world around here as the cool air embraced the atmosphere. As if it was a gift for enduring a hardship during the day.
After Isya’ I walked the night away and checked the merchandise along the way. Would you believe if I said that it was a beautiful day? Well it was for me and you can come for yourself to believe my story.
