40 Days with God – Death and the Pleasures of Life

How far are we from our death?

We were on the highway to Medina, travelling at 120 KMPH on a scorching afternoon surrounded by arid desert and rocky mountains – the Arab countryside is a tough environment. The front tyre under the driver’s seat (Gulf has Left Hand Drive) had burst at noon, but the driver had managed to keep the hobbling bus in control. After a 2 hour break for tyre change we were back on the road again and passing through one of the numerous over bridges. Suddenly the tyre on the front right side of the bus burst with a huge blast. The steering slipped from the drivers hand and the bus veered rapidly towards the right. The strong Egyptian driver stood at his seat and leaned heavily on the steering using his full strength to turn the bus left. The bus brushed the railing on the right before turning left and coming to a halt. A few seconds delay and we would have plunged straight into the underpass 200 feet below.

It is amazing how we feel death will not happen to us, at least not in the foreseeable future when it is happening all around; accidents, bomb blasts, cardiac arrests etc. That afternoon we were only a few seconds away from imminent death. I can never forget the huge stunned eyes of the driver. It is so odd to see a strong, heavily built man completely mortified and in fear – the fear of what could have happened.

How much of our life we spend in regret or fear of what could have happened rather than experience fully what is happening?

The burst tyre

There were two predominant reactions in the bus; anger and fear. Travel brings out the true self, we had observed in our opening chapter and you could see how. The angry immediately went about blaming everyone from the driver for not having checked the vehicle properly, to the travel company which provided the bus, to the tour operator and even the Saudi Government for trying to commercialize the pilgrimage. The fearful began to cry and pray. Very soon though everyone realized they had a fascinating tale to recount so most of them got on their mobile, including myself, either narrating the incident to friends and family or clicking pictures of the burst tyre for posterity. Death, no matter how certain or close, is no match for life.

That is probably how it should be. But should we not in our life know that it is eventually going to end and that end may be sooner than we think. And everything thus is temporary – all success and failure, all sorrow and happiness, all defeat and hurt. There could not be a greater motivation to lead an egoless life of forgiveness and love.

I was, to be honest amused by the entire experience. This was an incident outside our control. If we had full faith in God – and that would be a minimum requirement for being on the pilgrimage – there was no reason to worry or get angry. God would do what was best for us and our loved ones. Yet, when put to test it was so difficult to be true to that faith.

We reached Medina at 11:30 PM in the night taking 13 hours for a 7 hour journey. The Masjid-e-Nabwi (The Mosque of the Prophet) was just 100 meters from our hotel, separated by a narrow lane lined on either side with street shops which where were closed for the night. Inside that mosque were the tombs of Prophet Muhammad and a few of his closes companions. To imagine that the prophet lay buried just a few hundred meters away from where we slept made the conscience alert with reverence, gratitude and fear.

From the hotel window we could see the huge open portico of the mosque largely empty due to the late hours. There was a sense of such peace and serenity that made the turmoil of the day seem so unreal and distant.

Medina is 400 kms away from Makkah, but in all other aspects it is poles apart. The temperature is 7 – 8 degrees cooler making it very pleasant, there is far more greenery than the stony mountainous landscape of Makkah and the people are far more hospitable and warm. A shopkeeper in Makkah would require three inquiries before he would respond with the price of a particular item, with the attitude of someone doing a favor. In Medina, the moment you paused in front of a shop, the shopkeeper would come around, shake your hand and take you inside to show his wares.

Just behind the central structure of Masjid-e-Nabwi which houses the prophet’s tomb, is the huge newly built prayer hall. On my third morning in Medina, which was a Sunday, I was sitting on the open roof top of that hall having just finished the namaz-e-fajr or the prayers before sunrise. There was an amazing sense of peace and quietude like an unhurried village morning. The sky was largely clear except for a few stray clouds near the horizon and in the slowly fading darkness one could the see a few pigeons flying in the backdrop of distant mountain slowly taking shape. It seemed as if there was no world beyond this place.

Sunrise at Masjid-e-Nabwi

As the sun started to rise I could see the grey clouds on the horizon slowly turn orange and then after ten minutes, as the sun came up their color changed back to grey. It was a fascinating experience to observe as nature changed color and hue. How fortunate are those who derive pleasure from the everyday joys that life offers – the peace of a morning, the smile of a child, the indescribable thrill of an orgasm, a great line from a book, a break from sleep in the night only to realize there are still a couple of hours for the morning alarm. They require no passport, no visa, no huge flats in high rise apartments with higher EMIs. Nature puts no price for its pleasures.

I walked back to my hotel room as the sun started to become strong. The shops had still not opened and at the corner of a narrow by-lane a small tea vendor was selling hot tea with biscuits and local bread. A mat lay spread on one side where the pilgrims who couldn’t afford private tour operators who provided food along with accommodation sat and enjoyed their morning tea.

I went to my hotel, picked up a cup of tea from the hot pot kept in the lobby and went up to my room where everyone was still asleep. It was like the Sunday mornings of my early youth and I felt if I switched on the TV there would be Rangoli playing on Door Darshan.

Medina is tranquil where Makkah was intense. Even the rituals at Medina are simple as compared to the physical, exhaustive circumambulations at Makkah. Was this part of the grand design? Does the calmness and peace after the toil and the intensity help you uncover another facet of your own self, help you probe even further within your own recess?

We will try and understand ‘how’ it impacted in the next chapter.

40 Days with God – Seeking Pardon

Can we imagine waiting for two decades to fulfill a cherished dream?

In today’s generation of instant gratification it sounds almost like a fable. One of the rituals at Haj is to greet as many people as you can, so after every namaaz (congregation prayers) as a practice most people greet pilgrims sitting on either side. It is then you realize what it is to become a ‘citizen of the world’ because your neighbor may be from any part of the world, any strata of society, any age group.

I met a Turkish tour guide, a Morocco businessman, an Afghani who wanted to know about T20 World Cup underway in India at that time, a Dutch IT contractor who was a former Tech Mahindra ITPian migrated a few years ago, a Pakistani from a village in Baluchistan where it was common practice to find letters on your front door seeking money for being ‘protected’ and an old Bangladeshi who had waited for 20 years to retire so that he could utilize the retirement money to make the pilgrimage.

How does one feel on achieving a purpose one has patiently waited more than two decades for? It was humbling to see the devotion in his eyes. Could we ever achieve that depth of feeling? Do the ‘haves’ realize what the ‘have not’s’ have?

It was also interesting to note that countries and regions have cultures and behaviors which make them distinct and identifiable. After a couple of weeks it became an interesting activity to look at a group and identify their country. And it went beyond dress and physical features. It extended to their demeanor, their public behavior. Not wanting to hurt any patriotic sentiments, it was clear how the Indonesians were so disciplined and organized, the Turks almost invariably wore the same light green color and when there would be time limit for certain rituals you could guess who would be the people rushing and jumping queues to get a glimpse.

A Pakistani lady was surprised to hear my wife talk about the comfortable and secure life we live in India. She thought, as did many Pakistani’s we met, that Muslims here were a harassed lot. It was obvious that they lived a life of strife there. When I asked a Pakistani which city he lived in, he instinctively replied “Bomb blast” before correcting himself to say Karachi. It was funny and tragic at the same time.

Do we value the things we have got, things we are so accustomed to that we take it for granted?

The first week at Makkah had been understandably more intense – the experience was new, the sights were new and there were a lot more tears and opening up as realizations started coming to the fore. The second week was more of reflection, of internalizing and knowing oneself better which led to a heightened sense of self-awareness and mindfulness.

This self-awareness though can be disturbing especially when the first thing it throws up is a lot of internal dirt which we had so conveniently camouflaged with our seemingly good intents. I like being a trainer and a writer, but I realized in those moments of self-awareness that it was primarily because it gave me an opportunity to be liked and praised. That my love for interaction was in fact my love for popularity and appreciation.

There is no doubt that all actions, to be pure, have to be performed with the sole intent of pleasing God. Could any of my ‘good’ deeds then stand up for scrutiny, because they were performed principally with the intent of making me look good. I do receive a lot of appreciation both for my training and my writing. Have I then already received my reward from the universe? How could I expect a higher reward from God? Why should I expect it?

As I sat in the mataaf (the open area encircling the Kaaba) one evening in our final week in Makkah these thoughts made me misty and fearful. I had come here seeking acquiescence from my God and the reward of becoming pure. But all I had to show were deeds done out of a unfailing desire to seek credit, when all the prophets and great people that I had been reading about lately were people who had led lives of hardship and sacrifice with no desire for acclaim. It left me completely hopeless and ashamed. For all the things I had, I was a pauper in deeds.

As I raised my hands for the dua (supplication) at the end of the last prayers for the night in this state of hollowness, a strange thought came to my mind. Why shouldn't I seek both from God? Why shouldn't he pardon my transgressions and still consider me amongst the pious? I felt like the stubborn child who knows he doesn't deserve a toy, yet is confident his parents will grant him one if only he persists.

The Quran says that Allah is many times more merciful than a mother. So shouldn't I expect to be shown mercy? Shouldn't I have a ‘right’ to be pardoned no matter how conceited my intents were? If my mother can then why can’t Allah?

And I demanded and pleaded in the same moment. There were no words because I didn't know what to say, how to express. Just a torrent of tears which flowed automatically as I stared besieged at the abode of God. I didn't want to leave the place, didn't want to go to the hotel or home or anywhere, just stand there and do whatever I could – beg, plead, threaten Allah to pardon and forgive me.

I don’t think I have ever cried that long in my life. Finally I turned around and left, slowly and unwillingly.

The street outside was largely empty as most pilgrims had returned to their hotels for the night and the temperature had turned slightly mild. It was as if I was returning from my Tawaaf-ul-vidat (the farewell circumambulation of the Kaaba) which was still a few weeks away. And it felt strangely liberating. I felt light and happy as I walked back to the hotel; the lightness of a person who knows not the result, but knows that he made a worthwhile attempt.

That night in the hotel room I indulged in some light banter, even cracked a joke with my roommate – the first time I had felt like that since I left Mumbai. We were soon to leave for our 2 week sojourn to Medina before we could return back to Makkah for the actual Haj rituals. Medina was the town where Prophet Muhammad had migrated to after the tribal warlords at Makkah had made it difficult for him to practice Islam.

The stage was set for the next phase of experience.

40 Days with God – Love and Fear

Ever since I posted the article about the experience of actually ‘being there’ at Kaaba many people have over emails or personally talked about how they had a similar experience of having a practiced list of things to seek from God, but once in the presence of the deity having forgotten everything and simply returned with a bowed head and a light heart. Interestingly they belonged to different religions and sects each with his/her own deity or pilgrimage.

How then is my religion different from anyone else’s if our experiences are same? Could there really be different religions? We will continue to understand religion as we go along.

To understand, one needs to explore, to have, as we said in an earlier chapter, the ‘talab’. And for those on a quest to learn there is no dearth of questions. By the end of the first week I was confronted with the question of what is right behavior? To leave my wife and go to offer prayers or to accompany her but miss some part of it? To cry in private or allow the tears to flow publicly, because that would be tantamount to putting ones faith on display which is forbidden.

Is it the burden of the conscientious to be forever in doubt about right and wrong?

I don’t know.

And that was the overwhelming feeling towards the end of the first week. That I didn’t know the answers to so many questions; that I didn’t know whether I was taking the right decision or not and I didn’t know, with all due respect to our scholarly guide, whether he or anyone else would be able to understand my dilemmas and guide me. It was then that I understood what one truly needs to seek from the Lord when one is in His presence – Hidayat (guidance), Hikmat (wisdom), Ilm (knowledge) and Imaan (faith).

If we have this in true measure life would be so simple to live.

The first week at Makkah, as I have narrated earlier was a continuous process of gratitude and forgiveness and the natural tears that flowed from the realization of God’s graciousness and your own wrongdoings. After every such bout of crying, which was frequent in the first week, there would be a feeling of deep relaxation, of having shed a small burden. By the end of the week though, I began to worry about the intensity becoming diluted and the tears drying up. After all how long can one continue to be impacted by the same experience?

There was no need to worry. I should have rather, as one of my trainers at a coaching workshop long ago emphasized, trusted the process.

Sometime during the second week I suddenly realized that I loved the word of Allah on my lips. I have to admit that while I knew that jikr or chanting the name of God is a preferred act any time, I would do it either mechanically or due to the religious decree. There was a lack of feeling or belief in it. I couldn't see how it helped. Suddenly now I realized I loved taking that name – there was no logic or reasoning – just simple, plain liking.

I don’t know how or why that happened but when I think on hindsight I feel that when one is filled with penitence and gratitude it is only natural to eventually feel love. And what pleasure it is when you do something not for reward or fear of punishment but from a feeling of pure love?

I realized that day what the Sufi’s mean by ‘rab da ishq’ – the love of the Lord. When all you want is your beloved’s name on your lips and her sight in your eyes. When you raise your hands to the ears at the beginning of the namaaz saying ‘muh mera taraf kaaba sharief key’ (I start my prayer facing the kaaba) and raise your eyes to see the Kaaba actually in front of you – nothing can match that start. And then when you bow down in sijdaah (prostration) you do not want to rise up again, wanting the forehead to stay in contact with that holy land and the heart in total subjugation to God. That feeling is like no other.

And I questioned myself whether I had ever loved my wife, my parents with the same intense love that I now felt. Or was I only expecting such love in return? How happy would life be if one were to bring such love in all the relationships?

That evening though a new doubt awaited me. In his routine discourse after dinner our guide said that a true Muslim lived his life between the Love and Fear of Allah.

How can Love co-exist with Fear? They appear such contrasting emotions. When you love someone so completely where was the need to fear? How could the Prophet and his followers who were already blessed spend nights in contrition and fear?

The answer wasn't difficult to discover. If your boss told you at the beginning of the year that he was so impressed by the way you work that he had already marked you as ‘outstanding’ in the appraisal system, you would fear that nothing you did that year should make him change his impression. The higher the reward, the greater would be the sense of responsibility and the fear of wrongdoing. And thus the blessed would in fact be more afraid and contrite than anyone else.

The fear was not about losing the reward – that had been already marked in the ‘system’. The fear would be about losing the trust which your boss had reposed by taking that decision. And that is a much heavy but enabling fear which helps you take the difficult but right decisions when the wrong is so easy and desirable.

And this love and fear only can lighten the burden of the conscientious.

The gratitude and remorse of the first week had led to love and fear in the second. As the third and final week in Makkah arrived it started to turn into panic.

Had I done enough to achieve the objective with which I had set out – rab ko raazi karna – to seek Gods consensus. In one week I would be leaving the house of God. There was not much time to seek an answer to that critical question.

40 Days with God – Getting under the surface

We started this series with the intention of trying to understand the process, the ‘how’ of how a pilgrimage has the power to transform, to make you as pure as a newborn. It has taken us four chapters to just reach the physical destination of the pilgrimage, but that was because preparation and planning are so essential to achieving any goal.

The Quran says (in Sura-al-Fatir) that ‘those who plan badly have to bear its consequences.’ Now how much of that relates to Project Management practices? And we thought that religious texts only prescribe to religion and God. One of the interesting realizations during this journey was comprehension of the term ‘religion’. We will come to that during the course of our journey.

I had taken along with me an 800 page volume of the transliteration of the Holy Quran thinking that without any personal and professional obligations I would have enough time on my hands to read a few chapters every day. I was wrong. Inside the Haram (as the grand mosque is normally referred to) you don’t have to do anything to spend time.

Circumambulating the Kaaba (called tawaaf), or walking the seven rounds between the Mountains of Safa and Marwah (called saee) or simply sitting in front of the Kaaba with all the time to yourself, your life starts playing itself in your memory. And it always begins with a single thought; what was the good you did that God bestowed on you this great privilege of being at the place where so much history has been created by such revered people.

And you struggle to identify one honest good deed. What instead come to mind easily are the various wrongdoings; the times when you were angry with your spouse or parents, or envious of a friend’s success or hurt someone because you were upset, often due to your own lacking. There are enough times you realize where you behaved in a manner that your conscious knew, at that time or a little later, wasn’t exactly the right behavior.

Every action of the body first begins as a thought in the mind. If the root (or intent) of that thought is pure the action is likely to be good. We had a scholar as our tour guide – a PhD in Islamic Studies from the University of Madina. He told us that every amal (deed / action) had to be performed with the sole intent of pleasing God. Was there a single deed I had done which could strictly satisfy that criteria – because every success, every good deed, every charity I could think of was somewhere deep down rooted in self-pride, fame or fear.

Whether it is the great sanctity of the place or the unfettered time you get to yourself, it becomes easy to get under the veneer of your own self and you begin to discover your true intent which neither your boss nor your friends or family may have ever come to know about. There is no one in that loneliness to try and impress but you and God and how many lies can you tell your own self?

You realize that in that hitherto unaccessed recess of your heart and mind lay a lot of garbage which you would never have been able to reach otherwise. And your hands automatically rise in repentance and forgiveness that is genuine to the core. It is only such forgiveness which can clean some of that internal garbage and start making you pure.

The sanctity of the place demands reverence. Every good deed done in Makkah, the Holy book says, fetches you a hundred thousand times more in reward. At the same time, every wrong deed or even wrong intent fetches you a similarly high punishment. Leaving the arithmetic apart what it means is that one has to be constantly aware and conscious of one’s intent and not just the deed. It reinforces mindfulness and taqwa and helps in the journey of self-discovery.

And you realize being good also is not as simple especially when the conflict is between two goods.

It is the first Friday in Makkah and I am conscious of going to Haram early to get a vantage place for the afternoon congregation prayers from where I can see the Head Priest reciting the sermon. But my wife who has had a long night doesn’t share my eagerness and is taking her own time getting ready in our hotel room. We get only 3 Friday’s in Makkah and I am getting fidgety and anxious as she takes time with the morning chores. I am not able to decide whether I should leave for the mosque alone letting her come on her own whenever she is ready or stay back and accompany her. Whether my duty as a muhrim (i.e. one accompanying a female relative) means I have to wait for her even if it means having to forego a lifetime opportunity? Which is a greater duty to adopt since both are prescribed by religion and which one needs to be sacrificed?

For the conscientious there could be so many questions. Is it the burden of the conscientious to be continuously in doubt about one’s choices? Is being continuously aware and mindful of one’s choices a more stressful way of living?

We will talk about more such questions in our chapter next week.

40 Days with God – Getting Away from it all

Advancement in communications technology means one can always stay connected from anywhere. It also means one can never get away.

A pilgrimage is about getting away – getting away from family, work, everything worldly and spending time in communion with self and God.

It is vital to plan that. Almost all my time before embarking on the trip was spent trying to bring my work to a logical end and hand over, visit my children’s school, ensure provisions are stocked at home for the period, pay credit card bills for the month and next etc. anything that was likely to come up in the next 6 weeks. The idea was 0 phones from office during the trip and the odd weekly call with family.

When I sat at Mumbai airport waiting for the flight to Jeddah the predominant emotion was not of awe or excitement but fatigue and a sense of fear – fear of whether I had prepared enough. Because the one thing one didn’t want to come back with after undertaking a journey like this was regret; the regret of having not given it your best.

For a person entering Makkah with the intent of performing Haj (or Umrah) it is essential to get into a state of ihram (consecration) at the defined meeqat or boundary. The boundary when you are flying in from India comes before Jeddah i.e. you fly over it and hence one normally gets into the state of ihram at the airport itself.

It is critical to understand the significance and purpose of ihram because it is amongst the three compulsory conditions for Haj. Ihram is derived from the Arabic harama (to prohibit) and in English means consecration or sanctification for a special purpose or service, usually religious. Consecration has the same root as the word ‘sacred’ and literally means to get sacred, to dedicate oneself to the service of God.

Hence before entering the state of ihram a person has to take a bath, clip the nails and remove the hair from the armpit and pubes. Then the male needs to discard his clothes and adorn two sheets of plain white, unstitched clothing, one to be wrapped around the loins, another to be worn over the shoulder.  The purpose of this is twofold:

First is universal brotherhood. Our clothes form the last vestige of our social status. By discarding our clothes we also discard our social status and thus when every Haji presents himself in only these two pieces of unstitched white all appear equal with no distinction of caste, creed, nationality or social or financial status.

The second and more spiritual significance implies the giving up of the world. The white clothes resemble the shroud or the kafan, the clothes in which we will be wrapped after death. We have already left behind our family, our work and our properties and wealth to undertake this journey. By wearing the ihram we get into a state of ‘virtual death’ and this state of the mind makes it conducive to distance ourselves from worldly matters and look at life for the temporary endeavor that it is. This mindset helps in recalling our sins and seeking genuine forgiveness when we pray at Kaaba.

There are thus restrictions in a state of ihram; you are prohibited to kill animals including insects, pluck leaves, remove body hair or apply fragrance, engage in intimate dialogue with your spouse etc.

There are also two virtues which are essential not only in the state of ihram but during the entire trip for the Haj to be deemed acceptable by God; patience and service. You are thus not supposed to engage in arguments and wrangling, be tolerant of any hardships and provide assistance to your fellow travelers.

The ideals seem desirous and the heart longs to follow them, but you realize what a challenge it can be the moment you land at Jeddah airport; it is midnight (2:30 am IST,) you are exhausted and desperately longing for your hotel bed, but there are numerous procedures to clear. And there are thousands of pilgrims from all parts of the world, each with a different temperament – quite, obstinate, short-tempered, over-smart, and each as tired and desperate for sleep as you are.

And the young men at the counter are college students drafted especially for the Haj season who have to stay at the airport barracks and report for 16 hours of duty. They are generally courteous and respectful of the Haji, but need their breaks and have their frustrations with people who have never flown before and understand neither English nor Arabic.

In this conundrum of people, process and paucity lies the true test of your character; how tolerant are you of the officer who walks out for a break just when your turn came after half an hour of waiting? How willing are you to give up your seat for a family and wait for the next bus to Makkah?

And then you realize that in such circumstances, which will be often during the journey, it is only taqwa – the continuous consciousness of what is right – and mindfulness – an awareness of your own state of mind – that will help you stay in control of your emotions and guide you to act in the desired manner.

And you realize how 40 days of such deliberate consciousness can help you imbibe some of these principles for your life hereafter; of how a pilgrimage has the potential to transform if done as prescribed.

[Next week we will realize one of the most cherished objectives of our journey; to see the Kaaba right in front of our eyes.]

40 Days with God – Neeyat, Taqwa and Talab

Everything begins with intent.

“Neeyat pe faisle hote hain,” (Decisions of the universe are based on intent)

My grandfather had quoted when I had gone to visit him at our ancestral village a few years ago. He is 85 and desperately wanted to attend the Friday congregation prayers but there was no male member at home to accompany him. As luck would have it I reached half an hour before the prayers. It was his strong intent, he believed, which ensured that the universe sent me just at the right time.

Poets, philosophers and psychologists have all talked about the role of ‘intent’ – whether in terms of belief or will-power or the ‘universe conspiring.’ But it is true that rarely anything can be achieved without having the right intent.

What is your intent of going on a pilgrimage? To become a ‘Haji’, or to comply with one obligatory requirement of religion or to ensure God is pleased with us so that our sins can be atoned – ‘rab ko raazi karna’ as our philosopher guide told us at the beginning of the journey.

What would I do if I wanted to please my boss? I would naturally want to know his likes and dislikes and base my actions accordingly. There is nothing different to be done to please God. And that is known as Taqwa – to follow what pleases God and to stay away from what would seem disobedience.

The Quran says about preparing for Haj, “…and take provisions [with you] for the journey, but the best provision is Taqwa.”

The origin of the word Taqwa is from the Arabic ‘waqaya’ meaning shield and is the verb form of ‘Ittaki’ meaning to be careful or cautious. Taqwa is thus being cautiously and consciously aware about God.

At the Leadership Lab (an Assessment Centre for Udaan, the Program Mgmt capability development initiative of RoW) which I attended a week before my Haj trip, the lead consultant, a retired Army General who moved into behavioral sciences, had emphasized the need to be mindful, of being in a constant state of awareness.

Imagine what would happen if you spent 40 days with the only intent of pleasing God, consciously aware of your every intent and action.

The third element which makes up the bhava or the mental attitude before a pilgrimage is a deep desire to achieve the outcome – the talab; for only the thirsty can be quenched, only the one on a quest can find. Talab is the Arabic word for quest or addiction. It is not a coincidence that the Arabic word for student (talib) is derived from talab.

Your talab to seek knowledge (ilm,) to perform as prescribed by trying to understand the ‘why’ will ensure that the elements conspire to make things happen the right way for you. Do you think my attending a leadership workshop that emphasized mindfulness just a week before my Haj trip was pure coincidence?

Thus with the sole intent (neeyat) to please God, consciously aware of our every action such that it is for the good and away from anything bad (taqwa) and a deep desire (talab) to attain our goal we embark on the flight to Jeddah (or to Medina as per the itinerary of your tour operator.)

Any journey undertaken with such preparation can only be magical.

[Next Monday we will aim to reach Makkah.]

40 Days with God – the spiritual experience of Haj

Everyone must go on a pilgrimage some time in their life.

We often read and hear the need to see the big picture, to view things from a broader perspective, to have a sense of gratitude – to transform. A pilgrimage provides a real life opportunity to make this possible.

When I decided to go for Haj (the obligatory pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina for every Muslim who has the requisite health and wealth) I had no idea about this. All I had in mind was that it was a necessary thing to do at least once in a lifetime and now that I was able to, I should.

The Quran says about Haj that whosoever performs the pilgrimage the way it is prescribed becomes pure like the day he was born. When I used to hear this statement in various sermons it sounded lofty, almost patronizing, the way all religious text appears when ‘read.’ The end outcomes of religious decrees are always either too lucrative or too fearful and most discourses focus on the outcome. What is rarely explained is ‘how’ our actions logically lead to these outcomes. What is needed they say, and sometimes quite conveniently, is the need to have belief or faith. But faith is easier said than believed.

Logic is the asset of an educated mind; it can also sometimes become its liability. When a logical mind doesn't see the ‘how’ it disbelieves the outcome. That is logical. The question that needs to be asked is, is it because there is no ‘how’ or is it simply because one has not yet understood the ‘how’?

During those 40 days of pilgrimage there were many moments when you start experiencing that how. I will, in the next few articles try to share that experience.

I share this because, irrespective of our religious beliefs, our age, education or financial background, there is universality in what we seek beneath all the obvious needs; peace and purity.

And there is no one more pure than a new born – s/he has no diabetes or blood pressure, no desire or need except for hunger and love, no pride or prejudice and only one expectation – to be attended to when cried. How does an adult who has ‘experienced’ life re-achieve this state of peace and purity? And how does a pilgrimage help? The answer lies in performing the pilgrimage ‘the way it is prescribed.’

A pilgrimage, as per Wikipedia is a journey or search of moral or spiritual significance. A journey generally implies travel and it is interesting to note that all quest for knowledge – whether spiritual or worldly has implied travel.  Why the travel? Travel reveals our true character. It is said that you do not know someone unless you have traveled with him. The Urdu word for travel (safar) is derived from the Arabic sufur meaning ‘to unveil’.

So what is the prescribed way for this journey? The next article will focus on how one should prepare physically, mentally and spiritually for a journey of this nature; a journey that you will supposedly undertake only once in your lifetime.