Perspectives: From Kaaba to my heart - Modern world can't defile us if we invest and delve deeper within ourselves. Here's how my Umrah journey to Mecca was truly transformative
Referred to as “the greatest journey of a lifetime” by the 14th century traveller Ibn Battuta, pilgrimage to the Kaaba has been a source of blessings for Muslims around the world for 1,400 years. Here's how my journey to the holy sanctuary unfolded.
In addition to observing the formal requirements drawn from the example set by the Prophet, we were encouraged to refrain from engaging in any worldly affairs, to avoid any “loose” or obscene speech, to be gentle and kind in all our interactions and to share in our food.All these practices were intended to aid us in discovering the inner, transformative dimension present in these outer restrictions.
This “house,” the sanctuary that has been circled by pilgrims for thousands of years, is one of the two holiest places in Islam, the other being Masjid al-Nabawi, home to the tomb and mosque of Prophet Muhammad. Our plan was to visit Mecca first and then proceed to Medina. Despite the intimidating endlessness of the surrounding desert, resembling the waves of an ocean frozen in time, these families looked unfazed, in their element and very much at ease.
After settling into our hotel, my husband and I walked to the entrance of the Grand Mosque, its walls covered in its characteristic grey-and-white mosaic-like marble, its nine minarets piercing through the sky above. Approaching the gates of the expansive space of worship that could accommodate 2.5 million pilgrims at once, we moved along amidst the thousands of pilgrims as if we were moving through waves, each of the clusters reflecting a different colour and temperament of the 1.
My husband asked, “Are you ready?” referring to the prayer one makes upon seeing the Kaaba for the very first time — a prayer that Muslims believe will never be denied. “Yes,” I responded quietly, my heart beating fast with anticipation. Akin to being at the very core of a beehive, the source of life and living energy itself, a pulse seemed to guide the movement surrounding it, matching one’s heartbeat within.
Shortly afterwards, we all began to circle the Kaaba in a counterclockwise direction, starting each round by raising our hands as a way of greeting and showing respect to the Black Stone, the very stone given to Adam following his fall from Heaven. Originally white, it is believed to have blackened from the sins of all those who had touched it.
No wonder Malcolm X, the African American civil rights activist and convert to Islam, had so poignantly proclaimed, following his pilgrimage in 1964, that this experience marked “the first time in [his] life [where he] felt like a complete human being.” There was a sense of comfort in discovering and acknowledging that — although a prophet with direct access to the Divine, Abraham was also a human being, just like the millions of pilgrims who had come to pay their respects before this enclosure bearing his footprints.
Though I yearned to see a tangible relic of the past, to have an image I could hold onto, I reminded myself once again that this journey was not about demanding the space to meet the expectations of my imagination or deliver impressions I may have anticipated. Rather, it was for me to discover, within myself and within the experience and practise itself, the timeless lessons behind Hajar’s struggle.
At the end of 2.5 hours, the seven rounds having been completed, we marked the completion of our umrah by shortening our hair as the Prophet had done and stood in prayer for it to be accepted. Though special festivities continue on such days in many other parts of the Muslim and non-Muslim world, they are part of the bygone days of these holy lands.
The stone was warm, almost soft in texture, dampened by the tear-soaked hands of tens of thousands of pilgrims who had touched it before me. It had a texture unfamiliar to me until that moment, and I kept my hand on it, absorbing everything my senses could and retaining as many sensorial memories as possible. Then, once again, a wave of pilgrims washed towards me and I found myself pulled further and further away from the Kaaba.
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