I have left Makkah. I do not leave the same as I came. I was called here, by Him. Within me, from my first breath of intention, gushed forth a river of desire. A burning desire that I must go. Allay says “If he comes to Me walking, I go to him running” (Al-Bukhari Hadith 7405). I wanted to get closer to Him. I went there to complete one Umrah – which includes undertaking Tawaaf, walking seven circuits around the Kaaba, and Sa’ee, seven laps between the Safaa and Marwah mountains. Before I went, I did not know what Tawaaf and Sa’ee were. Over three days, I completed two Umrahs including eleven Tawaafs. That is, 14 laps between Safaa-Marwah and 77 circuits around the Kaaba.

At every step I held my hands high in prayer. I prayed as I have never done before. Five times, He invited me to pray in the area around the Kaaba. Even against the odds, when the gates were closed, He willed for me to enter. I found a way in. I walked in the Sun’s searing heat. In the coolness of the night. At dawn. At dusk. Between prayers. I mentioned His name in every breath. Behind my mask, my throat became desert dry. All I needed to keep going was water from His eternal spring. My feet blistered. My legs ached. I prayed for every soul. For every tear that I saw fall. For those close. For those far. For humanity. I prayed for His light to enter my heart, my soul. I prayed to be the best person that I could be. Every step increased my alignment towards Him.

I walked amongst thousands of others. They do so at every moment, of every day. They have done so, for thousands of years. It was unlike anything I have witnessed before. They came from all over the world. Crying. Praising. Remembering. Praying. Submitting. This is what being a Muslim means. To submit. They followed in the footsteps of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and before him, Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham; peace of upon him), whom we regard to be the father of Islam. I followed in their footsteps. Wrapped in two unstitched cloths, symbolic of all being created equal. No distinction between rich and poor. All to return to dust, the same. All to rise at the horn’s blow. For each, their deeds to be measured.

Words by Saif Mir @trans4mingself

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