Introduction Of Makkah
Over the years, I’ve shared stories and reflections from more than a score of countries. Yet, despite having visited Saudi Arabia multiple times, I’ve never written about it—because the Kingdom, home to the two holiest cities in Islam, deserves more than a mere travelogue. Makkah and Medina are not destinations in the usual sense; they are journeys of the heart, steeped in reverence, faith, and history.
Table of Contents
Like many Muslims, my early understanding of these sacred cities was shaped by stories from my parents and readings during my childhood. It wasn’t until I had the privilege to perform Umrah and Hajj decades later that those imagined images gave way to real experiences—transformative ones that brought the early days of Islam vividly to life. Makkah
One book that deeply influenced my perception of these cities is The Road to Mecca by Muhammad Asad—a Jewish intellectual who embraced Islam and traveled extensively in the Muslim world. His account is not just a personal memoir, but a profound spiritual odyssey. Retracing the Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH) migration route from Makkah to Medina, Asad endured the elements on foot and camelback, immersing himself in the same hardships faced by the Prophet and his companions. One of his most striking descriptions reads: “There was not a blade of grass around, nor any shadows till the horizon, except those of the vultures flying overhead, waiting for us to die.” His narrative captures the essence of sacrifice and perseverance—a powerful reminder of what it meant to follow faith in its earliest and most trying days.
The Pilgrimage of a Lifetime
Hajj, one of Islam’s five pillars, is the largest annual pilgrimage in the world. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime obligation for every able-bodied Muslim who can afford it. More than a ritual, it is a global symbol of unity and submission to Allah. Umrah, often described as a “lesser pilgrimage,” serves as a spiritual rehearsal for Hajj. Makkah
For centuries, Muslims from every corner of the world have answered the divine call to Makkah. Among them are countless pilgrims from the Indian subcontinent—many of whom face bureaucratic hurdles, language barriers, and, at times, less-than-welcoming treatment upon arrival. Our own experiences were no exception. We were non-Arab visitors from less affluent nations, often viewed through a lens tinted by economics and stereotypes. While frustrating, these challenges pale in comparison to the persecution faced by the Prophet (PBUH) and his followers in the early days of Islam. This perspective, drawn from Asad’s book, became an important personal lesson: humility and faith must supersede pride and entitlement.
Reflections on the Kingdom
Known as the Kingdom of Nejd and Hejaz before the 20th century, Saudi Arabia is home to Islam’s holiest mosques. While its social and political dynamics are often debated, one cannot deny that the rule of law is firmly upheld. Cultural differences—compounded by the Kingdom’s Bedouin heritage and oil wealth—sometimes create distance between locals and visitors. Yet, we must also look inward: some pilgrims arrive under false pretenses or remain illegally, contributing to suspicion and mistrust. Before casting blame, we must examine our own behavior.
Still, a more gracious approach by the host nation would go a long way in easing the spiritual journey for millions. Hospitality, after all, is a value cherished in Islam—and richly rewarded by Allah.
A Journey Like No Other
The road to Makkah begins on a prayer mat, flows through the hopes of the devout, and culminates in the sacred space of Masjid al-Haram. It is not simply a journey—it is a phenomenon. For many in South Asia’s middle and lower-middle classes, performing Hajj is a lifelong dream, often fulfilled in their later years. It is not a vacation. It is a culmination of prayers, sacrifices, and spiritual yearning.
The closer one gets to Makkah, the more palpable the anticipation becomes. Tongues dry from constant recitation of Quranic verses, hearts throb with longing. And then, the moment arrives: the first glimpse of the Kaaba. It is electrifying, humbling, and deeply emotional. During Tahajjud, thousands gather in white, moving in harmony around the Kaaba beneath the early dawn sky—a sight that etches itself into the soul.
Medina, too, stirs profound emotion. We arrived at Masjid al-Nabawi just before the Fajr prayer. Bathed in moonlight, the Prophet’s Mosque shimmered in white marble, the call to prayer echoing through the still air. Visiting the Prophet’s resting place is a moment of deep reverence, leaving few with dry eyes.
On this journey, one eats sparingly, sleeps little, and thinks less of the world left behind. It is a time of surrender—a state of being where prayer is both refuge and purpose.
One Ummah, Many Paths
Unlike pilgrims from the subcontinent who often perform Hajj later in life, Malaysians tend to undertake it at a younger age. Iranians come in tightly organized groups, moving in solemn unity. Turks exhibit discipline, while some African pilgrims—robust and energetic—can be a bit more physically assertive in crowded spaces. These small differences in style are eclipsed by the overwhelming sense of brotherhood. Clad in white, all stand equal before Allah. That is the spirit of Hajj. That is the spirit of Islam.
Allahu Akbar.
