After the Friday prayer finished, as usual, people in the front raced to touch the Kaaba. Chaotic, yet not so chaotic. They took turns, placing their hands on the Kaaba. Somehow, they would patiently wait for the one touching to let go. I had tried three times in the past two days, and I had given up. It seemed impossible with so many people attempting the same.

Even though I was completely spent, I stood up. My hand seemed to raise itself. I started walking into the rush around the Kaaba. Frantic people. Waves of them. I held my hand out. I walked slowly forth. I felt a deep certainty that nothing was going to stop me. My arm extended as far out as possible. Effortlessly, I kept moving. A person in front of me reached out and touched the Kaaba. In a few moments he pushed himself off the wall to build enough momentum to pierce through the rows of people behind him, including me. He pushed me back a few steps, and more people forced their way in. I found my footing. I took another step. Step by step, I walked right up to the Kaaba and placed my hand on the black cloth. Nobody was pushing into me or pushing me back. This was meant to be. This was my moment to say goodbye. My final prayer whilst touching the Kaaba. I prayed to become the best person that I could be, one with the best conduct, one who does good.

He brought me the cool breeze that I needed to withstand the heat when I was at my weakest. He called me right up to Him. I had so much to be grateful for. I walked away slowly. I felt like it was the closest I had ever come to Allah SWT.

Words by Saif Mir @trans4mingself

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