Makkatul Mukarramah (2019)

Dreams do come true. In the most unexpected of times, and in the most unlikeliest of situations. There you are minding your own business, as you do, deep in the daily grind, when out of nowhere, a checkbox of a gift falls on your lap. And it’s amazing that a gift more closely associated in plenty would be made available to you in attendant scarcity. But perhaps it’s better that way so you could better appreciate it.  Starting a business wiped me out financially. And however I have managed to stay afloat, however long, however gracefully, only my Lord knows best its particulars. However I have managed to stay positive, and not just hang on but thrive really in this abyss of despair synonymous with unconnected entrepreneurs trying to bootstrap their way to unalloyed success, really, that you have to ask Him. And so never did I think that in the drift of this no man’s land, as I like to call it, I would get to fulfill one of my lifelong dreams.

It really is true, the more one is in need of Allah, the harder they will fight to ensure they get closer and closer to him. I have been way more financially solvent that I am now yet never did it once cross my mind to visit my Lord’s house and His Prophet’s mosque. It’s strange beyond belief really, that when Allah blesses you immeasurably, when you should have more to thank for, the farther you are from his remembrance. Wealth is a test, and so is poverty.  There is something between those two, that hasn’t got a name. That’s where I consider myself to be. On a brink. Not destitute, but not dishing it out like it grows on trees anymore. Not impoverished, but not entirely comfortable at my situation. It’s extraordinary to me that I’d wake up one morning, throw my hands up, acknowledge my assets, and find them sufficiently enough to take off without a care in the world of any tomorrows. And I’m ashamed that I find that amazing, because that is exactly the attitude that we should adopt as travelers in this world.

Well, the shame train doesn’t stop there- I’m embarrassed to state that it did still take much prodding from my loved ones to push me to go. Not until I heard that it’s not everyone’s destiny to go really- if there ever was a fire to get me off my behind, it is to hear the words “no”, never”  and “impossible”. Suddenly, I had a wealth of funds and to my Lord I fled.

There is no feeling to describe one’s sight of the Holy House of The Merciful.  It’s wave upon wave of regret of having waited this long to visit it; layers upon layers of remorse; and depths upon depths of awe. To submit to His absolute Grace, and Majesty, to join flocks of people who’ve attended solely for His pleasure- no words are sufficient to describe this feeling. It’s a sense of recognition of who you are in that wheel-you are nothing special, in that there are way more dutiful servants than you, and yet you are everything special because there is an indescribable bond you get from circumambulating His House, from praying behind it, from standing firm with others- in way more challenging situations than you are- in praising Him. To announce my presence to my Lord, it has never made any more sense to me than it did then. Running between those two hills , fervently asking for His grace and remorse- I’d constantly have to remind myself that I wasn’t dreaming.

Sudais and Shuraim, no sweeter voices. I don’t know what mode I’d be on. I’d be on my knees, unable to stand up for Qiyamal lail, but adamant in remaining at that spot. You’re sleep deprived, and yet you don’t feel tired.  You’re exhausted from your fasting and travels, but you still rush to make it inside.  It’s addictive beyond belief.

And a final adieu, walking in circles around His House, praising Him. There was no word sweeter to me than to shout, softly, at the greatness of my Lord who had beyond belief brought me there, when surely it was the farthest thing from my plans, and who had allowed me an opportunity to join His merciful servants , to glorify Him and to ask for His admittance into His oceans of forgiveness and gardens of bliss.

So I thought if I never get to anything else meaningful in my life, I’m okay with this. Alas, I hadn’t yet experienced the city of the Prophet SAW, Madinatul Munawwarah, and the Prophet’s mosque.  Peace upon peace. Just bliss, I mean even the water tastes better. And the people, subhanallah, beyond kind and amazing. I had random strangers in the masjid all wanting to hear my life story. And you don’t want to shock people into silence so you give them a politically correct summary of it, until they start telling you theirs and you feel ashamed. The bare truth was the currency here, I quickly learnt.

And raudatu sharifa, a garden of paradise between the Mimbar of the Prophet SAW and his old house(now his grave, and that of Abu Bakr and Umar RA), within the mosque – yet another tiny piece of peace I cannot describe. I fancy myself to be eloquent, but no modicum of reserve remained upon my sujud in those blissful carpets. And if that were not enough, an opportunity to visit Masjid Quba, on a Saturday in keeping with the full tradition of the Prophet SAW, another umrah. My heart was full.

If I robbed myself broke to go every year, whatever it is I robbed myself off, it is worth it. I can’t believe I’m saying this now,  years too late, but I get the hoopla you guys. Why my Dad would not rest until he left for it every year. Why people take off a whole month to spend it in those sacred precincts – because I met countless people who told me they’d taken a month off their lives to spend it here. How could I dare compete in goodness, when a few days off seemed a lifetime to me? And how could I dare say I have a relationship with my Lord when He lends His hand to help me out every single day of my life, and yet a single visit to His house I seemingly struggle to make? There aren’t any excuses, not for you either my darlings. If you haven’t and you can, it’s an experience that you cannot afford missing. Fly away to those hallowed halls, I promise you bliss. As for me my Lord, please bind these memories in me, and guide me back to your beloved House sooner than I can blink. Year upon year my Lord. Please make it easy for me.