40 Days with God – The Haj Part III – Sustenance

The Haj is about attaining purity. But how does one sustain that purity in a world where ‘dirt’ is so easy to gather?

Haj provide a mechanism for that as well.

10^th ZIlhajja, the third day of Haj is a busy day. It is also the day of Eid-ul-Adha or Bakri-Eid as popularly knowing in India.

The first important activity on this day during Haj is to stone the devil, who is represented by three huge pillars at the far end of Mina. There are TV screens in the camps which relay the crowd situation at key sites allowing you to decide when to undertake the journey.

At 11:00 am we felt refreshed enough to make the trip. The plan was to take the metro services reducing the walking to only the train station and back, which itself was more than a kilo meter each side. However once we reached the station we realized that the metro services were stopped due to the huge crowd. This left us with no option but to walk the 4 KMs to the stoning site.

The authorities have built an air-cooled, canopied road with water outlets at every few meters on either side to protect the pilgrims from the blazing sun and heat. The progress though was slow since many people were still tired and it took us almost two hours to finally reach the site.

Standing in the plains of Arafat on the afternoon of 9^th Zilhijja was about attaining purity by seeking forgiveness. The stoning of the devil on 10^th (and subsequently on 11, 12 and 13^th Zilhijja) is about sustaining that purity by building resistance to what is wrong.

Stoning the devil is a ritual to commemorate the incident where the devil tried to lead Abraham astray into disobeying God’s wish to slaughter his son Ismael. Abraham resisted the devil by throwing pebbles at him at three different places.

The Haji revisits that incident by throwing seven pebbles at a huge oval pillar which symbolizes the devil. However before throwing each pebble it is prescribed that the person has to recall in his mind one occasion where s/he did a wrong, where they gave in to the temptation of the devil. As you remember a wrongdoing, then pick the pebble and throw it at the devil, you are not stoning the external pillar but that something inside you which tempted you into that transgression.

The devil does not reside in that pillar, but in our own deeper selves. That is the essence of this ritual.

And when you repeat this exercise on all the remaining days of Haj (stoning all 3 pillars, unlike only the ‘Big’ devil on 10^th Zilhajja) trying to remember each transgression of yours and then pelting the ‘devil’ inside which made you do that, you are building in yourself the ability to resist the wrong, to throw a mental stone at the ‘devil’ whenever he attempts to bait you again.

And the ‘bait’ is all pervasive you realize as soon as you return tired from the long walk back to your camp. The exhaustion makes you prone to frustration and anger and it is visible around you in the tent. A few are angry for what they term the mismanagement of the tour operator since they left Arafat, others are frustrated with the delay in the sacrifice (which is the next obligatory ritual after the stoning of the devil) because without confirmation on the sacrifice having been made at the government slaughter house they are unable to divest their ihram and the restrictions that come along with it, while some blame the Saudi government for not being able to manage the metro services. There is gossip, hurt, blame and argument as the devil gets back to work immediately after being stoned.

And it doesn’t take time to realize that there is no devil that lies outside, all temptation, all dirt resides inside us – in our ego, in our laziness, in our flawed intents – and till we do not become conscious about it and build the habit of ‘stoning’ it, sustaining purity would be difficult.

Late in the evening we received news of the sacrifice being done so we shaved the head and removed the ihram. There was a feeling of happiness all around on having fulfilled a major portion of Haj. Restrictions, even if they meant closeness to God, can be a burden.

Late next morning, on the 11^th of Zilhajja, we left for Makkah for tawaaf-e-ziyarat, or the circumambulation of the Kaaba during Haj days, the final mandatory ritual. There was unprecedented crowd in Masjid-al-Haram and even the first floor and the roof top which requires covering a greater distance for the tawaaf due to the bigger circumference were completely packed. Yet my wife was insistent that we do the tawaaf in the mataaf, the open area immediately surrounding the Kaaba. Whether it was her strong belief or plain right timing but we managed to sneak into the mataaf immediately after the noon prayers when the sun was at its hottest.

Many times on TV and in few movies we have seen the famous Makkah footage of the huge gathering doing the rounds of the Kaaba, packed tight together with no empty space as if the people were standing still and the ground below was rotating like a conveyor belt. It is an amazing scene even from the outside.

What is it to be inside the scene? To be one of the many thousands seeking and praying as they circled the revered place.

Once you enter that swirling mass of people you are alone despite the crowd. There are many distractions; wanting to finish quickly by trying to find empty spaces, timing your rounds, correcting others, staying in touch with your group etc. However success lies in submitting yourself to the flow, following the automatic motion. And giving yourself to God; spending that hallowed time that would not come again soon in your life, probably never again, in praying for yourself and everyone you know and seeking forgiveness and wisdom for the life ahead. Then the crowd exists only as a huge vehicle for your journey, taking you along, strengthening your objective by their own congruence of intent.

It is humanity besieging God and you feel a part of it.

By the time we finished our tawaaf and saee (the seven rounds between Mount Safa and Mount Marwah) it was late afternoon and as we walked into the basement of Masjid-al-Haram on our way out, all the nostalgic memories of hours spent leisurely there during the early days of our pilgrimage came rushing back. Today there was hardly a place to sit.

We took a private bus to Mina for the second day of the stoning of the devil. In order to avoid stampede due to people moving in both directions, the authorities have built ‘one-ways’ which meant we had a good 2.5 kms walk from where the bus dropped us. It was night by the time we finished the stoning and thankfully for us the train services had resumed. We boarded the metro back to our camp.

It was 9 PM by the time we alighted at Mina 1, our camp destination. A couple of handcarts were selling memorabilia and toys, a few tea and cold drink stalls on the road manned largely by African women awaited the odd customer, a police jeep moved about silently and small groups of pilgrims walked around with casual indifference. There was a strange stillness all around, a resigned calm after all the urgency and frenetic activity of the last three days as if the air around had sensed that the action was over, the deed almost done.

Life assembles in Mina only during these five days of Haj.

We had complied with all mandatory and most of the obligatory rituals. What remained was the stoning of the devil on 12^th Zilhajja, the fifth and final day of Haj and then back to our hotel room and the flight home a couple of days later. We trudged back quietly along the small ascent, absorbed in our own exhaustion and relief. There was no need to hold hands diligently any longer for the fear of getting lost because there was no crowd anymore and in those four days we had begun to know the place and its roads. Returning to the large tent with only a cramped single foam mattress as a bed felt like returning home.

How soon does one get attached to the place one stays.

Next day the main topic of discussion at breakfast was whether lunch should be served at the camp, or would people finish the stoning of the devil and return to the hotel and have lunch there. After long debates and many suggestions it was decided that the elderly would provide proxies for stoning the devil (the rituals allow this if you are not physically fit) and take an early bus back to the hotel with the luggage, while the others would complete the ritual and reach directly. Lunch would be served at the hotel in Aziziya.

It is interesting how hygiene factors override everything else and occupy our thinking. Maslow has got it perfectly right.

We left a little after noon for the third stoning of the devil. The train journey was comfortable as most of the crowd had already planned their return. By 2 PM we finished the stoning and reached Mina 2 station from where our hotel was a 15 minute walk.

The air at the hotel was festive and congratulatory. Men and women sat in the lobby and welcomed each one as they returned from their journey. A feast was laid out for lunch and everyone hugged and wished each other fondly recounting their stories of the last five days. Despite the tiredness and fatigue there was liveliness and the joy of having reached the destination, of achieved the purpose.

We were Haji’s now.

[In the next episode we will complete the final ritual – the farewell visit to the Masjid-al-Haram and undertake the return journey back home.]

40 Days with God – The Haj Part II – A Test of Faith

The test of leadership lies in adversity. Does the test of Faith also lie in adversity or in those good times when every thing is going your way?

As per the carefully laid out plan of the tour operator we were supposed to take the train to Mina 1 station where our tents were based and where the tour operator had dinner ready for us, get refreshed and then walk across the street into Muzdalifah to spend the night as the rituals defined. Thus when we managed to board the metro train at Arafat overcoming the stampede at the station gates we thought we had made it. Little did we realize that the challenges had only just begun!

The train terminated at Muzdalifah 3 which was the station prior to Mina 1. It was then we realized that, that night the trains would only halt at Muzdalifah to prevent pilgrims from deporting at wrong stations accidently and missing the key ritual of spending the night at Muzdalifah. Our destination was only about 2 Kms from where we had alighted but in that huge crowd of people it was difficult to find the exact route. Two people assumed leadership of our group of 10-12 pilgrims including a few old couples who had rigidly clung to us out of the fear of getting lost in that mammoth crowd. And as it happens in the proverbial ‘two horse race’, they began to pull us in different directions.

Ego is probably the most difficult thing for an individual to overcome, even in a sacred endeavor that is supposed to alienate you from worldly matters. And compounded with fatigue, fear and a fastidious police which didn’t allow us to gather at a place and think it through, decision making was on-the-go. For us, the followers, the key decision was which leader to follow since each of them had a different idea of the right route to take. Eventually we decided that the most critical thing for us was to stay together rather than worry which leader was right.

One of the leaders managed to find the route to our camp. The other after a few urgent phone calls realized he had taken the wrong route. The group was with this other leader. We decided to spread our mats wherever decent space was available and spend the night there.

It is in such situations that one realizes the utility of technology. Though we were separated we could still call up each other or the tour operator and inquire about the safety. The problem was we ourselves were not sure where exactly we were to give any direction. That night we also realized how testing it would have been for our parents and grandparents when they performed their Haj without the advantage of mobile connectivity and why the journey was normally undertaken after you had finished all your worldly obligations.

One of the rituals at Muzdalifah is to collect pebbles for the stoning of the devil that has to be done for 3 days starting from 10^th Zilhajja. The ladies collected stones for us as the men went to fetch water and something to eat. Most of the night though was spent in probe rather than prayers. It emphasized that how a little bit of personal suffering or threat to security was enough to divert us from the core purpose. Sacrifice, though easy to understand and espouse, is so difficult to put into practice. It requires fortitude and a true and complete belief in God – that He controls everything and thus He will take care. Our task is to only put in well-intentioned efforts.

Through the night a few more of our touring group including one of the tour managers reached our location and we took a decision to leave early at dawn in order to reach our camp at Mina and avoid the rush when everyone would depart from Muzdalifah to the far end of Mina for the next ritual of stoning the devil.

We had failed to realize that forty million people were thinking on similar lines.

We appointed key leaders who would hold the tour flags high to indicate direction, tagged the older couples with younger ones and set off at dawn to reach our camp where we were to take a break to rest and refresh before embarking on the onward journey for stoning the devil.

As we hit the streets wave after wave of pilgrims started to pour in since everyone was moving in the same direction. Each turn became difficult to navigate and distance between the flag bearers and the followers started to grow as the aged failed to catch up in the huge rush. Everyone appeared similar, dressed in the two sheets of white ihram and the fear was that one missed turn would put us on the street leading to the site of stoning the devil. That would mean another 4 KMs of walk in one direction and in the current state of exhaustion that would have been impossible for the elders and the womenfolk to undertake.

The police there follow a simple rule of no-exception which is probably the only way you can manage such a huge crowd and thus if you happen to get on to the route leading to the devil you would not be allowed to turn back and take a different route no matter what your situation was. Turning back would be a sure case for a stampede. Military helicopters hovered on top monitoring the situation.

Navigating from one end of the street to another required moving across a huge current of surging population. Two women, one with a semi-paralytic husband held on to me as I tried to ensure they didn’t go out of step and fall behind. In the process I lost physical contact with my wife who had another elderly couple clutching at her arm. Looking over the crowd there was no way to locate her or know where she was heading and in that crowd and chaos it was impossible to even reach for the mobile. Technology had to eventually yield to Faith and in that helplessness where one couldn’t chose ones direction or stop and think one could only remember God with an intensity and depth that was not possible in normal times.

Don’t push, don’t shove, be courteous to your fellow Haji’s, allow others to pass are all prescribed in the rules for Haj and every sermon during your preparation days emphasized it. You had made a strong mental note to never forget them. In those 90 minutes that morning, when you are fighting to stay on your feet, you realize that greatness doesn’t lie in following instructions when things are normal, in giving when you have plenty. Greatness lies in staying with the principles during adversity, when your own security is at stake.

It was a lesson that was to come back to me many times later, to remind me of my weaknesses and the distance I still have to travel. It was my lesson in humility.

After an hour and half of struggle, guided only by instinct and my sense of direction, I and the three elderly people with me found ourselves on the side of the narrow street leading to our camp. It was largely deserted since everyone was moving towards the other end of Mina for the stoning of the devil. As we stood on the side finally to gather a few moments of rest, it felt as if standing on the banks of a huge river in rampage, unmindful of what it was carrying within its course.

Slowly we trudged back along the silent street to our camp. It felt peaceful after all the rush till just a few minutes ago. Some people had reached the camp and everyone had a story to tell. Meenaz, my wife, was not there. The old ladies with me held my arms and their gratitude was genuine not needing many words. That day I realized the true pleasure of giving. I suddenly felt everything will be fine.

Meenaz returned after half an hour. They had taken a turn in an adjacent lane and had to take a longer route to reach the camp. Everyone was exhausted and happy to just lie in their bed and be thankful for being back. It seemed as if we had been away for a long while though it was for less than 36 hours.

Soon though we would have to get back on our feet and make the journey for stoning the devil and then the only remaining mandatory task of Haj – the tawaf-e-ziyarat i.e. circumambulation of the Kaaba. We had only been through the first two days of the Haj rituals. Three more days were still ahead of us.

[In the next episode we will look at the remaining rituals of 10 – 12 Zilhijja and how they complete the process of purification and lead towards sustainability.]

40 Days with God – The Haj Part I - Purification

The obligatory Haj rituals are to be performed in the vicinity of Makkah during 8 – 12 Zul-hijja (the month of Hajj) which is the last month of the Islamic calendar. Only when you have performed the prescribed rituals on these given days are you said to have performed Haj.

We returned back to Makkah on 5^th Zilhijja after the 10 day stay in Medina – and it seemed to be a different place than what we had left. There were people everywhere, on the streets, in front of hotels, in temporary makeshift tents in traffic gardens and in the grand central Mosque – the Masjid-al-Haram.

Yet despite the huge crowds, when we returned back for the obligatory Umrah to Masjid-al-Haram on the night we reached from Medina, it felt like a homecoming, like getting back into the arms of Allah again.

Let me share some insights into how the Saudi government manages the large crowd. In 2012 around 40 lakh pilgrims performed the Haj as per the official version out of which 16 lakhs were foreign visitors while the remaining were from GCC countries who do not need a visa and just drive in or local Arabs and migrant workers in Saudi Arabia. All the foreign pilgrims are allocated to a Muallim – or a local leader. Muallim in Arabic means ‘Sir’ or ‘Teacher’. Each Maullim is allocated approximately 5000 pilgrims and during your stay in Saudi your travel and security is his responsibility. In the month preceding the Haj week and the month that follows, the government controls the pilgrim population by distributing them between Makkah and Medina. Thus some batches first travel to Makkah and then visit Medina, whereas an approximately equal number visit Medina first before traveling to Makkah. This is managed centrally by Muallims through an IT program.

Thus on any given day when a set of pilgrims is travelling from Makkah to Medina, an almost equal number is travelling back from Medina to Makkah and the 7 hours journey gives the hotel staff at both locations time to clean up the rooms for the new set of arriving pilgrims. However for the Haj week the entire population travels to Makkah only and hence when we returned back to Makkah we were allocated a hotel in the suburbs, around 5 KMs from the Central Mosque since hotel rents in the city during these days are exorbitantly high.

The rituals during the Haj week (8-12 Zilhijja) are taxing both in terms of physical effort required as well as due to the huge crowd and hence it is recommended to refresh and rejuvenate for a few days prior to its commencement. We spent 5 – 7 Zilhajja in our hotel room in Azizia (a suburb of Makkah) largely attending sermons on the Haj rituals, their significance, the travel and stay arrangements during those days and how to manage if one got lost. The mosques deliver these sermons in various international languages based on the nationalities staying in that location.

On the night of 7^th Zilhajja we took bath, packed a small bag with necessities, discarded our clothes and donned the white ihram once again and became ready for the final passage; the purpose of the pilgrimage. All the preparation, all the knowledge, all the insights resonated internally and nothing mattered besides that single intent to ensure every rite was performed as prescribed, every ritual measured up to the standards deemed by the Prophet and our Haj could meet the acceptance of Allah. The entire journey would then be worthwhile.

The prophet had set for Haj on the morning of 8^th Zilhajja, but due to the large crowd now we set forth on the journey around midnight of 7^thZilhajja. The Haji during these prescribed days has to stay in Mina, a huge plain about 5 KMs to the east of Makkah where more than 100,000 air-conditioned, fire proof tents are set up to provide temporary accommodation to the pilgrims for these five nights.

The 10 minute bus journey took us almost one hour since every road leading to Mina was packed with vehicles and people walking with their belongings trying to find their tent in that sprawling sea of white. As you look around from your bus it was the only color you saw – white. The white tents packed close to each other separated only by streams of the same color; streets made invisible by millions of pilgrims all dressed in the same two sheets of unstitched white – the ihram.

And on the lips of everyone is a single prayer – the Talbiyah, which (in translation) states "Here I am at Thy service O Lord, here I am. Here I am at Thy service and Thou hast no partners. Thine alone is All Praise and All Bounty, and Thine alone is The Sovereignty. Thou hast no partners.”

The central theme of Haj is Oneness – the equality of mankind, all dressed alike, all reciting the same prayer, united in their desire of seeking servitude and love of a single Lord. No soul can stay unaffected in that atmosphere of energy created by forty million people unified by a single spiritual purpose.

The 8^th of Zilhijja is known as Yaum-ul-Tarwiyah (The day of giving water) because on this day, in ancient times, the pilgrims and their caravans would drink and fill water for the day of Arafat to follow. There are no specific rites for this day except to offer the five mandatory prayers and spend the day in zikr or remembrance of the Lord seeking His forgiveness and help.

The beds in the tent are foam mattresses cramped adjacent to each other with hardly and space to walk and the toilets though many can be few at ‘rush’ hours so you do become careful while eating and have to plan your natural visits. However it is important to ensure enough nourishment for the two tough days to follow.

The second day of Haj i.e. 9^th Zilhijja (also called Yaum-ul-Arafat or the day of Arafat) is probably the most crucial of all days because it includes the mandatory rite of seeking pardon in the plains of Arafat. There are 3 mandatory and 6 obligatory rituals for the Haj to be deemed complete. If you miss any of the obligatory rites then you can still continue with the Haj by paying a compensation in the form charity (sadqa) or sacrifice of a sheep or goat.  However if you miss a compulsory ritual the Haj is deemed incomplete and one has to undertake the whole journey again. Being in a state of ihram, standing in the plains of Arafat on the afternoon of 9^th Zilhijja and the Tawaf-e-Ziyaarat (the circumambulation of the Kaaba during specific Haj days) are the mandatory rites.

The Arafat ritual is probably the most significant ritual of the pilgrimage. On this day the Haji has to stand in the huge open plains of Arafat from noon till sunset and seek forgiveness for all his sins. For the ease of the pilgrim and to provide undivided focus on this single act of repentance even the mandatory evening prayer (namaz-e-asr) that day are to be read along with the afternoon prayer (namaz-e-johar.)

We reached Arafat just after midnight and the few tents over there were dark since there is no provision for electricity. It didn't matter, because that day you only have a single worry; will I receive forgiveness for my sins?

What if you were aware of your many wrongdoings and given one chance to stand in court and seek mercy from the judge?

The plain of Arafat that afternoon is full of men and women from every culture, nationality, age, prosperity standing with their hands raised to the sky, unmindful of the blazing sun on top, the burning sand underneath, sobbing as they recall their sins, the sweat and the tears difficult to distinguish.

It was as if the entire journey had prepared you for this one moment; all that time to read and reflect, to be with yourself and God unpeels the outer layer of superficial modesty to reveal the garbage lying inside you – your truest intents for doing what you did and you have realized that these have not always been honest. From this acute self-awareness comes a sense of remorse that is deep and heartfelt. And when this opportunity arrives to get everything excused, you seek forgiveness as if nothing else mattered. That afternoon there is no one in Arafat who doesn’t cry.

And that afternoon you realize why the pilgrimage, if performed as prescribed, has the potential to make you as pure as a new born.

A loud alarm signals sunset. It is time to leave Arafat and reach the mountains and plains of Muzdalifah to spend the night, which is the next obligatory task. Imagine 40 million people leaving a place at the same time to reach another common place. The crowd, the chaos, the commotion can be unmanageable and we had a near life-threatening experience as we were sandwiched in a crowd of more than fifty thousand trying to enter the metro station through a single narrow gate.

The harrowing experience though doesn’t affect you. You have managed to board a train and get dropped somewhere in Muzdalifah (it is almost 9 KMs from Arafat and there are three metro stations for Muzdalifah.) You are separated from your group, you don’t know which place you are, you had nothing to eat since the afternoon lunch yet nothing matters.

All that matters is compliance to God, to dutifully do as He reckons. To, as someone had rightly said, trust the process.

[In the next episode we will look at the remaining rituals of 10 – 12 Zilhijja and how they complete the process of purification and lead towards the other important thing - sustaining that purity.]

40 Days with God – Liberation through Forgiveness

What if Religion was thought as Ancient History? Would it then be more acceptable?

History has its share of conflicts but they are less vicious and dogmatic than religious ones. And you tend to believe in history more than religion because they are observable facts. During the pilgrimage the tour operator took us on a visit to all the historical places around Makkah and Medina – the place where Prophet Mohammed and few other known leaders were born, the cave in which Koranic verses were revealed, the mountain top where the prophet hid during his migration to Medina, the battlefields where some famous battles happened etc.

You had read or heard many tales of the Prophet but seeing all those places in reality makes religion seem like history and helps you visualize the world at that time with its cultural and political dimensions.

There is an interesting aspect of the government in Saudi. They have not preserved most of the historical structures (e.g. the birthplace of the Prophet, houses of other leaders) in their original form but converted them either into a mosque or a library. The objective we were told is to prevent people from worshipping these places but rather praying and seeking only from a single God.

The library on the roof top of Masjid-e-Nabwi, the central mosque in Medina is a veritable delight for readers and historians. There are books in all major national languages across the globe covering various facets of Islamic and Arabic civilization – the arts, sciences, culture, politics and history besides the religious doctrines. What I found romantic were the early photos of Makkah and Medina before modernization giving a glimpse of how our grandfathers would have seen it when they did their Haj. The one hour that I spent in the library every afternoon was valuable education in the history of Islam and the character of Prophet Mohammed.

We were returning from a guided tour of Medina and our guide was a Pakistani scholar from the North-West who spoke in a monotonous but endearing accent – isn’t it always charming to hear someone speak a language in their local dialect. His pain at being distanced from his homeland and of a rapidly commercializing culture that was distancing itself from old values was palpable in his commentary. On the last leg of the tour he reminded us of the sanctity of Masjid-e-Nabwi where the prophet lived, prayed and died and the great opportunity life had given us to pray at the same place, to touch with our forehead the same ground which the prophet must have touched one day in prostration.

Affected by that emotional speech I was determined that afternoon to offer namaaz in the original mosque that housed the prophet’s pulpit – the place from where he preached. Since this place is smaller than the huge, modern prayer hall created as an extension, you need to be early to get a place to pray inside. I skipped my afternoon nap that day to secure a place inside the mosque.

The Prophet’s pulpit was in front of me and on my left was Bibi Ayesha’s (the Prophet’s wife) house where the prophet died and lies buried. The fact that I was sharing the same space where 1400 years ago the prophet would have stood and addressed people sitting where I was sitting made me tremble with reverence and fear. Was I worth the place? Did my character come anywhere close to that of the prophet’s companions and the people of those times, about whom I had read in the library books? And I bowed my head and cried for forgiveness because that was the only thing I could do.

God reserves the right to forgive you for your wrongdoings of His edicts – and He is most merciful. However Islam insists that if you have hurt your fellow citizens, you need to be first forgiven by them before Allah forgives you for such transgressions. That probably is one reason why it is customary to seek explicit forgiveness from all your relatives and friends before one leaves for Haj.

I had by now complete faith in the mercy of the Lord, but what about people I may have deliberately or inadvertently hurt. I needed them to forgive me. But what could I do sitting from there but only pray that God put the thought of forgiveness in their hearts.

And then I realized that if I am expecting others to forgive me, shouldn’t I be forgiving others for any wrongdoing or hurt they had caused me? The Universe, I had learned in a training program earlier in the year, gives you back what you sow. So the only way those I have hurt may forgive me is if I forgive those who have hurt me – and it didn’t matter if the hurting and the ones causing hurt were not the same, for the Universe will take care of that; haven’t we heard about the Laws of Conservation in physics.

I tried to recall the incidents and people who had pained me and as I went back in memory to remember such moments I realized that they were rarely from casual acquaintances or one-off incidents; most memories that I had of pain and hurt were caused by close relationships and friends and that revelation suddenly stunned me.

Do we hurt our loved ones the most? And if we hurt them then that hurt has to come back to us in some form or other, as per the Universal Law of reap as you sow. So then, are our loved ones the reason for all the hurt that we get from the world and vice-versa?

A very close relative, who works near my house, had refused to help or even inquire when I was struggling with all the preparations before leaving for Haj. As I would sleep exhausted well after midnight and then wake up before dawn each day to wind-up remaining tasks I would feel pained by his indifference. And I had carried that pain with me to the pilgrimage.

I called him up from the mosque, knowing well that it was not courteous to make a phone call from that holy precinct. But it was important for me to forgive him then and there. He inquired cheerfully about my pilgrimage, told me how he had been praying in every namaaz five times a day about my well-being and safety. I felt cheerful and happy talking to him and all the hurt seemed to go away.

Did he feel he was doing his duty by praying to God for helping me out and taking care of me? Was his intent thus to help me, only his manner was different from what I was expecting? And thus was he wrong or only I was assuming he was wrong?

Only God knows the true intents of a person so does anyone other than God have a right to judge another person?

As I walked out of the mosque later that evening I felt strangely liberated, completely at peace with myself. What great freedom it is to have the burden of judgment taken away, to know that you can never truly judge anyone else and thus everyone may be right in their own way. And that makes forgiving others so easy.

How light and peaceful it feels on having truly forgiven everyone. I tried to recall again all those incidents of pain and hurt which had been stored inside me for years. They came back now only as incidents with no feeling of pain or hurt. Is this the test of true forgiveness?

I realized how simple it is to live a hurt-free life. All we need to develop is an ability to genuinely forgive the other for their seeming mistakes.

[Next week we will travel back to Makkah for the actual Haj rituals – the prime purpose of taking this pilgrimage.]

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.