In the Shade of the Kaaba

To look at the Kaaba with love…

“It’s so cute.” 

Cute? You may have thought I had seen a baby otter. In reality, I was many feet away from the Kaaba, seeing it for the first time as an adult. The last time I had been there, I was a three-month old wee one, carried by either my mother or my uncle. Now here I was, and I was truly mesmerized by the Baytullah. The Kaaba was cute in my eyes. It was also impossibly majestic as the divine, primordial, and blessed House of Allah, functioning as both a mosque as well as a global direction to prayer. Upon seeing it, I had expected a hit-by-lightning encounter, where my thoughts would present themselves as poems. I had anticipated profundity. The sight alone of the black cubical structure, looking smaller than I thought it would be, but also immensely larger than I had imagined, rendered it a familiar simplicity and warmth. I was seeing it as I would have as a child. Looking at a structure that is shrouded in black cloth could otherwise have been scary, but there was a majesty to it that was both humbling and grounding. It almost beckoned me to try and reach it up close; I never got to touch it but when I asked my husband about his experience, he said it was as tender as someone clinging onto their mother.

In 1297 AH (1880 AD), Sadic Bey took the first photograph of the Kaaba and its depiction in that sepia-toned image is of a mysterious, compelling and large structure standing hallowed yet homely. Meanwhile, yours truly, who from a very young age wanted to break into the field of photojournalism (spoiler alert: that never happened), stood before the Kaaba in what felt like a complete inability to photograph it. I just never wanted to point my camera at it. I wanted my eyes to see it without an intermediary and when I did photograph it, I wanted my intentions and my effort to be pure and pleasing to Allah. 

When the Kaaba is before you, you feel an immense sense of protection and perhaps it helps that you are surrounded by the ummah. There seem to be too many things to talk to your Rabb about during Tawaf and you marvel at the people who seem to be FaceTiming or video-calling their loved ones. When people see it for the first time, it is often by shyly peeking through a beloved’s hands that are covering their face. It is said that the first glance at the Kaaba is the most coveted one. Most wait a lifetime to travel to it. This is one of the most expensive and arduous journeys that they will ever make. The pilgrimage, whether the smaller Umrah or the main Hajj, will alter them. They will emerge from it babbling and bawling like newborns. Their eyes will take some time to readjust to the bright colours and the sounds in the outside world. For now, all they see is black and white; more specifically, a cubical structure covered in the black Kiswah (cloth), resting on white tiles. Cradled in the valley by the mountains of Makkah, this mosque stands in dissonance with much of the visual landscape surrounding it. Here there is none of the reality of towering skyscrapers eyeing you with a calm and unflinching opulence. The architecture of the Kaabah, built humbly by a father and son, exists in a premise distinct from the logic presented by the Saudi monarchy. Its purposeful minimalism signals the spiritual simplicity of the earliest Muslims.

…is to look at the Ummah with love

The Kaaba is magnetic; it pulls you in but you cannot keep looking at it. You have to look ahead or you will likely walk smack into someone’s tote bag, bare back, or colourful hijab coordinated with their group, in order to find each other should they get lost in the crowd. You avoid stepping over locusts and wonder, is this the point then? Is the struggle to look away from the Kaaba? You must train your eyes on the ummah, on this crowd, because without navigating alongside them, it would be impractical and hazardous to attempt your worship. We exist in the collective ummah even in our very individual worship. 

Consider how focused one would be on horseback, running a marathon, firing an arrow at a target, or swimming a lap. The training prepares you to look at the end goal and use it as a motivation. You notice the soreness, swelling, and aches in your body as it protests or prepares for the exercise ahead. When you are in Tawaf, you are walking with the object of your desire neatly and squarely on your left. You are perpetually in motion with your goal. The Maqam-e-Ibrahim, where you see the footstep of the Prophet Ibrahim (peace be upon him), grounds you to your roots. You walk on holy land without arrogance and in utter humility. It is then that the words of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), said to the Kaaba when he circled it echo: “How great are you and how great is your sanctity! Yet, the believer has greater sanctity to Allah than you. Verily, Allah sanctified you once and sanctified the believer thrice in his life, his wealth, and to not assume evil about him.” Once more, you are forced to consider those you perform Tawaf with. Not to people-watch or speculate, but to hold them with love in your heart and to pray for them too. 

To join the angels as they say Ameen to each dua made here by every pilgrim: 

The hands that held the orphans’

A middle-aged or older, slightly careworn face turns a corner in the Tawaf. In her eyes you can sense a worry as deep as the inky blue sky. The quality of her slippers reveal the comfort she otherwise enjoys. She wonders if all leaders in Tawaf shiver in fear of the duaa of those who they may have unknowingly wronged in their positions of trust and influence. Her role is not a flashy one and nor is she a household name as a local leader. Her day job involves leading a no-tuition school for orphans while her other full-time role is being the imamah of her home. Looking at the experience of some other leaders, tainted with the perils of VIP culture, she chuckles at what paths life would have led her on had she chosen different routes of leadership. No billionaires has reached out to her to add them to her dua list; she carries with her short and powerful words written passed on from her students, some of whom may never afford this pilgrimage. The school principal’s heart humbles as she reads their little requests, things they have longed for deeply enough to pray for as children. She admires the dua which even goes against school norms (two scoops of ice cream at lunch time!) and includes a little note on a reminder of ultimate authority belonging to Allah. 

The nose that has touched the ground of many a masjid

For the one who walks to his neighbourhood masjid each day, the steps he’s getting today are just business as usual. He checks his wristwatch, gifted by his grandfather on his nikkah, every five minutes or so. He does not want to be late although many have advised him to get a hotel nearer to the Kaaba to make sure he never misses a salah. But this young man, barely in his twenties, is on the path of his elders and the veteran masjid-going uncles have trained him well. Outside of Jummahs and the Eids, some don’t yet know the walking collective that forms just after each adhan in the cities around the world. Congregants walk, and depending on how late they are, they occasionally break out into a run. They savour each step knowing that when they are back home, they will be dreaming about returning to this place. But our young man knows that he does not have to break the bank on a pilgrimage to receive rewards from Allah. He is aware that the reward of an Umrah or Hajj could be attained by sitting in the local mosque after Fajr till sunrise, engaged in dhikr and salah, and then praying two rakah of salah at daybreak. He will be among the people meandering back from the masjid as the sun wakes up his part of the world, sometimes alone or with another neighbour, taking a different path than the one he took to get there.

The ear that longed for sweet nothings

Our deen is a loving one and this Tawaf is for the Most Loving, the Al-Wadood. The lovers have met, loved, and parted for the sake of Allah. In Tawaf, many guide the hands of their loved ones, assist them in their wheelchairs and mobility devices, and often remember them in absentia. Their lips hold the name of the one whose heart is now far away from them. A widow’s feet shuffles and she finds a spot to sit and drink the ZamZam she carries in what her sister called “the best emotional support water bottle.” Her face is awash with tears and she keeps telling herself pull yourself together! She feels her departed husband’s arms around her, almost like her own phantom limb, as she carries their unborn child in this Tawaf; the same child they prayed for over the years while they saved up for this pilgrimage together. “May the One you love me for, love you,” she prays. The pregnant widow thinks of Hajra (alayhi salam), running from Safa to Marwah, and the loneliness she must have felt while her baby Ismail cried. She smiles softly at the elderly parents and young toddlers being carried on the shoulders and backs of loved ones. Her smile deepens into a little giggle as she sees newlyweds shyly clasping sweaty palms together, feeling like their hearts will burst with the joy of having found each other. “Allahuma barik,” she whispers.

The tongue which voiced fear

A well-groomed and handsome pilgrim corrects his posture and sighs. He is embarrassed that even in the state of ihram, with only tired pilgrims around him, he’s drawn to the pretty ones. “It’s the noor adding to how they’re glowing,” he thinks. Snapping out of it, he keeps his gaze on the white floor and if he catches a pretty girl’s eye, he’ll remind himself to look away. Is it his Muslim modesty or undiagnosed social anxiety? Nay, his struggle is a common one: he has a principle of saying no to haraam and his rejection is encapsulated succinctly in the words “I fear Allah.” They return to him when he’s tempted again. He’ll take the secret to his grave, not even his closest buddies will hear from him that someone both beautiful and popular was really into and approached him. If it had been for marriage, it would have been a different story. But simply appealing to base desires and succumbing to the heat of the moment spooked him. It’s easy to see that he reveres Allah and puts Allah as a shield, a firewall, against his frustration, boredom or means of escape when he’s trying to avoid something. He remembers his tafsir teacher and his favourite lesson from his favourite surah. Prophet Yusuf (alayhi salam) said: “Prison is dearer to me than what they invite me to.” He thinks it is a struggle for a weaker disposition but he has needed immense strength in turning away a lovable person he could have held.

The hands that gave without the other hand knowing

There is a family engaged in the Tawaf who are in a world of their own. To everyone else they seem like one, big, and happy family; it took a while to get there but they did eventually. Difficult conversations and decisions on how to best be present in each other’s lives brought them here sharing this sacred space. Not only do they try to be immensely generous and forgoing to each other, they materially support people, projects, and causes that each believes they are in a position to back. They are a giving family who share their wealth often secretly without anyone in their own household, let alone the rest of the world, finding out. They are among the economic class who defer and write off payments for debtors who are struggling. They treat orphans as they would their own family. They help the enslaved, incarcerated, and indefinitely detained around the world; they fund their legal defense, they pay their bail, and they do all this anonymously. They are the biggest contributors on crowdfunding campaigns but no one will ever present them a plaque, medal or shield. They are honest, sincere, and conscientious in all financial dealings. They know why they spend: it is all for Allah.

The weeping eyes

In this Tawaf there are warriors and worriers among us. One in particular has fought with his mind and with his body. He lost his eyesight in war. He came to the Kaaba without his wife; she was slated for indefinite detention and in order to glean “intelligence”, she was tortured repeatedly. It altered her life and ibadah. In his youth he ran dry the ink of multiple pens and went through a few laptops trying to write words he hoped would create change. He switched from analog to digital despite knowing that planned obsolescence would render him poorer every five years, forcing him to make a new purchase despite living paycheque to paycheque. His jihad has looked like many things and the sincerity behind it is what he prays for day in and day out; as he stands, when he sits, and when he lies on his right side in bed. He weeps just as passionately in private as in public. He remembers Allah outside of this crowd, in complete and utter aloneness. His eyes, which he feels he took for granted before he lost his sight, brim with tears and he lets each one fall and dampen his ihram.  

“There are seven whom Allah will shade with His shade on the day when there will be no shade except His: the just ruler; a young man who grows up worshipping his Lord; a man whose heart is attached to the mosque; two men who love one another for the sake of Allah and meet and part on that basis; a man who is called by a woman of rank and beauty and says ‘I fear Allah’; a man who gives in charity and conceals it to such an extent that his left hand does not know what his right hand gives; and a man who remembers Allah when he is alone, and his eyes fill up.” (Agreed upon, narrated by al-Bukhari, no. 620; Muslim, no. 1712; and others).

Before the Kaaba, you sit similar to the Prophet (peace be upon him). You will have to leave Makkah and Medina soon. No matter where you go now, stepping onto your prayer mat even thousands of miles away will be similar to embarking on a spiritual flying carpet ride. It transports you back to this moment,  some mere feet away from the Kaaba. It is easy to imagine it before you when the heart feels constantly pulled towards it. 

Once again you find yourself in a gathering of surrendering souls, many on their once-in-a-lifetime Umrah. 

Who prays alongside you?

Who walks on your left and to your right?

Unbeknownst to you, did you brush shoulders with someone without a second glance at them, not knowing how dearly they are held in the gaze of Allah? 

May Allah allow us all to mirror each other in the best light.