Travelogue- Road to Mecca

If you ever wish to perform Umra, shortest possible route to Mecca from Lucknow is direct flight to Jeddah from Lucknow, and a road journey from Jeddah to Mecca.
I know my tour is little unplanned. There is no direct flight from Lucknow to Jeddah on the date I have chosen to travel, 13th December 2017. It is Lucknow to Riyad in the evening and then another flight from Riyad to Jeddah past midnight.
Before I start from Lucknow an issue has to be sorted out. If one has intended to go for Umra one has to be attired in Ehram , the two white unstitched clothes, before entering into the boundary of Mecca. That is what the religious people tell. Matter is little tricky. When should I go into Ehram? Few suggest at Lucknow itself as later I might not have time for it. Someone advises for Riyad airport, some other for Jeddah airport before boarding the taxi for Mecca. There is another opinion in favor of some suitable place on highway before entering into Mecca. I choose for Riyadh airport and board the plane of Saudi Airlines in my civil dress.
The young man in worn out cloths sitting beside me is almost illiterate. He belongs to some village somewhere deep in rural Gorakhpur. He can’t read his boarding card. English is Greek to him. He can’t even speak proper khadi boli . He works with some industry about fifty miles off Al Joff. He is not sure whether his carry-bags would reach directly to Al joff or he will have to pick them at Riyadh. He is not sure whether he will reach Al Joff by the same plane or would have to change. I look at his boarding cards and try to decipher his travelling route. He can’t properly communicate with crew. But he is not the only one of his class. Most passengers bear almost the same profile. They have come from small neighboring towns of Lucknow. They are all ill dressed. Their clothing is cheap and smelly. They all work in Saudi Arab on menial jobs. They work hard and generally overtime to earn few pennies more and save some money for back home. I am not sure whether Shashi Tharoor, a few years back, had referred this particular economy class as cattle class or that was some other flight. I try to help the poor chap.
The crew members including few airhostesses look like Arabs. They all are young and well built. Men are sporting fashionable beard. I wonder if Arab culture allows women to act as airhostesses. Our seats are near to crew cabins and I find male crew members flirting with female ones and often indulging in dhaul-dhappa.
Our plane lands in Riyadh almost in midnight. From the enormousness of lights spread over its horizon I guess Riyadh must be a big city. It is in fact. Its airport is fashionable and modern. It is spread in many layers. The queues before emigration counters move slow. The whole thing is very irritating. Finally we are through it. We collect our luggage and come out of the airport to take an Airline’s bus that would take us to domestic terminal. We recheck in here. The whole thing is very tiring in the middle of the night. We are feeling hungry and tired but there is no respite. I go to an ablution room to wash and change into Ehram, and then to prayer room for customary prayer before setting out for Umra.
A two-hour wait at Gate no. 10B for the next flight to Jeddah is suffocating. The air passengers here exude wealth and luxury. A middle- aged Sheikh with a rosary in one hand is sitting beside me. He is counting the beads of his rosary as well talking to his wife. Finally we are at Jeddah in early morning. Here some goof-up waits as we come out of the airport. We reach Mecca by a taxi with the first rays of a cool dawn. A throng of people is paying Fazr Namaz on road. They must be those that could not reach any mosque in time.
Despite the mess up with our lodging arrangements we rush for Masjid Haram Shareef and K’aba for the express purpose of Umra. I am already in my Ehram since when I had changed at Riyadh airport’s one of the prayer rooms. So is Rani. Ehram for ladies is different from men.
As I enter into the precincts of K’aba for tawaf and see a small sea of humanity making circumlocutions, the Tawaf, round the K’aba whom Muslims treat as the ‘House of Allah’ the whole significance of Ehram dawns on me. I feel like listening a voice from unknown skies
“O believer, if you ever feel my callings, sure you come to K’aba; but the moment you intend to move or reach within the limits of Mecca, be dressed in an apparel of an ascetic, a yogi, and come bare feet. I am not interested in your fancy dresses or footwear.
As you have come to seek peace with yourself, white color is the best. Your two-piece unstitched apparel must preferably be of white.
And when you move from your home, shut off your mind from all that is dear to you. Leave all your fascinations behind.
And come to me while chanting your prayers of forgiveness.
And now that you have performed your ‘twaf’ around k’aba and ‘sa’i’ between the hills of Marwa and Safa renounce your locks you have taken pride in all your life.
And now when you go back home renounce all those acts which you think you should not have performed so long or rendered forbidden by religion.”
I join the crowd. I feel spiritual and holy. I feel tears in my eyes.
There is no protocol, there are no separate queues for any VIP, no separate niche for anyone, no special entry gates for men and women of ‘substance’, no escorts, no personal security guards, all are equal and on the same plank.
There is no rush, no pushing around, no shouting, no temper loosing, no one- up- manship , no vowing, no cursing at any stage despite the shoulder-rubbing crowd. Rather people support each other actively and passively, lend hand and succor to those who need it.
No one stares hard at anyone. No man glances at a lady.
Some people do take selfies with K’aba, but shyly, unobtrusively, modestly, there are no show offs. After finishing ‘Tawaf’ there are often photographic sessions with companions but all very silently.
Speaking in low voice with others are best manners.
People do socialize with their own compatriots and foreigners but without being boisterous. There are no loud laughs, no guffaws, no sharp bonhomie. People hardly exchange each others’ numbers or addresses. This is all secondary. Primary is the Umra, the prayers, the namaz in Masjid Haram Sharif, and the ibadat.
Mecca is a mountain of surprise for those who have a historical image of the city deep in their minds. It is like any other modern city with all the modern amenities – the 4-8 lane asphalt roads, the chic hotels- Hiltons , Pullmans and such others-, the shopping malls, restaurants, multistory houses , bazaars, McDonalds and KFCs, lifts, elevators and everything that denotes a life in modern times. I try to search in vain the earthiness in the city. I find it nowhere.
I always wondered why Saudi rulers could not maintain Mecca as a heritage city. To my mind it should have been left as such as it stood one thousand and four hundred years before. The city has a special significance. It is here that from its desert a revolution had stormed out about fourteen hundred years before which engulfed almost half of the known world in only two hundred years. Propped on strong moral and ethical planks the revolution guided the world through a strong message of monotheism.
This is the city where in the last one thousand and four hundred years this ‘Ttwaf’ of men and women around K’aba never stopped and the stream of Aab e Zamzam never dried. The city itself never slept as its inhabitants and visitors spent their nights in prayers and supplications to Allah.
Both Mecca and Medina are liberal and cosmopolitan in the matter of attires for men and women. You can see men in any conceivable dress, from jeans and T-shirts to exotic Malaysian or Mongolian attires. Women’s bodies are covered or wrapped around with any attire that does not reveal their bodily contours. Their faces are covered with a variety of headgears – the scarves, burqa, abaya or anything that suits them. But I think this is truer with the visiting population only. We happened to meet a female member of local Religious Police who was covered from toe to head. She had only a grille before her eyes to see the world. There are no advertisement hoardings on roads. Even if there are any they are devoid of images of living beings.
The commercial block right before Masjid Haram Shareef is hub of the city. It has luxurious hotels and expensive bazaars. There are innumerable eating joints.
I wonder why I see no trees in Mecca except a few planted ones of palm-dates outside offices in the commercial sector. There are no birds either. I try hard to find them during my stay. Finally I am able to locate few sparrows one early morning on the top floor of the Masjid Haram Shareef which are similar to our house sparrows. And the very last day I see few swallows although there is no dearth of pigeons whom people love to feed . Despite the absence of trees and foliage in general, the air is cool, light and freshening. In five days of my stay in Mecca I see no airplane in the sky or listen to its roar.
I discover winters are best time to visit Mecca and Medina, although Medina is colder and windy. One feels rejuvenated. This city, bigger than Mecca, is slightly better in its avian life. I locate more number of sparrows and swallows in the precinct of Masjid Nabwi.
Masjid Haram Shareef at Mecca is grand and modern, replete with all kind of logistics. It is circular in shape around K’aba, spread on four upper stories and basement. It has large open space in front. The mosque accommodates 4-5 lacs visiting pilgrims every day. Number swells to 35-40 lacs during Hajj days. Stampedes, even during Hajj days are only exceptions. Its maintenance including cleanliness and crowd control are lessons in management. Most cleaning staff is either Pakistani or Bangladeshi and sometimes Indian.
The hills of Marwa and Saf have been flattened long before. S’ai between them is an exercise of walking under a roof in a controlled air-conditioned atmosphere. But you can still draw spirituality.
What is most gratifying is to see pilgrims from every corner of the world. There are the pilgrims from the white West, the yellow South-East Asia, the colored Indian subcontinent, the dark Africa, whitish Central Asia and Mongolia. They are of different ages and looks, some excessively old and frail, some even on wheel chairs, some with crutches, but they have a single express purpose – to perform Umra, the act of circumlocution of K’aba seven times with prayers on their lips and then walking down the hills of Saf and Marwa, to and fro seven times. One wonders over the strength of spirit and power of will. There are men and women, the boys and girls, the infants and aged. You can notice many young couples, mostly from south-east Asian countries. Most pilgrims are in groups, small and big. Some have come singly too. Most want to spend maximum possible time in ibadat (devotion) to Allah through namaz and tilawat (recitation of Quran) in the precincts of Masjid Haram Shareef. Many are keen to perform more number of Umras and tawaf ( going round the K’aba). Many of them have spent life’s saving on this.
The hills around Mecca are mercilessly flattened to give way to new homes, new roads, new offices, and new living quarters. The big machineries are on the job.
Medina is 454 km from Mecca. The road to medina is six-lane. There are big fancy chic automobiles and trailers running over it at prohibitive speed. The journey is jerk-free. This road is crossed over by some other cross country roads through flyovers. Saudi Arab seems to be in a construction boom. The scenery outside is mostly low hills; grey, brown or slate in color. There are no trees, tall or small, just some xerophytes, thorny bushes. My driver tells they are devoured by camels with relish. At certain places the outer crust is just sand, apparently coarse and dull in coloration. I notice some low tents and dwellings of low roofs on the landscape. My driver tells they belong to Bedouins and goat grazers. The temperature outside in summers is never less than 50 degree, he tells. I wonder how they live in such excruciating heat. Then my imagination conjures up scenes of those battles that were fought under the most grueling summers and scorching hills fifteen hundred years for the sake of Imaan, the faith. And I imagine the Hijrat, the long arduous journey between Mecca and Medina taken by Prophet and his handful of companions. Then I see a few camels in the desert, and then a small herd of baboons. Cats are too often seen around humans, almost everywhere, particularly the gas stations, the restaurants and leg-stretching joints. But the country seems to be free from dogs. trumpet wedding dresses
My taxi driver Uzzal taking me from Mecca to Medina is Bangladeshi. He is young, smart and generally helpful, and been living in Saudi Arab for few years. He speaks Hindustani in a broken heavy Bangla accent. All through four hours’ journey I keep him engaged in small talk and try to learn about the country. He too is enjoying talking to me. He hasn’t much idea about India and least about Lucknow. He asks me where I live in India. I tell him Lucknow. Then all of a sudden he bursts out, ‘ aap ke ghar ke saamne Hindu log rehta hai?’
The question is so abrupt like lightning thunder from the sky, I find difficulty in replying. I feel my speech gagged. I just say ‘haan’. Then he fires out, ‘aap un se baat karta hai?’ Now I am little more composed. I say with enthusiasm, ‘yes, why not!’ I wonder if he is disappointed with my reply. And then he fires a salvo. ‘aap ko un se koi problem nahi hota hai?’ ‘Not at all.’ I reply. By now I have shed the shock of his questions’ brusqueness. I ask him, ‘ Uzzal, do you know Khichri, the dish made of rice and lintel almost in equal proportions? You must have eaten in your country too?’ He grimaces. He understands what I mean. I say, ‘Indian social fabric is like Khichdi wherein Hindus and Muslims are just like the grains of rice and lintel, inseparable from each other. They have no problems with each other. They have been enjoying each other’s company for centuries.’
He falls silent for some time. I wonder if he understands what I mean. After few minutes’ of uncomfortable silence we once again resume our conversation. Now we both are cautious and tread on safer grounds.
How sad we all live in our narrow wells of self made assumptions.
Masjid Nabwi in Medina is grand by all means. This is the mosque where Prophet used to pray. Any Muslim as long as he is in Medina takes it as his best luck to perform his Namaz in this mosque. The mosque with huge halls and gorgeous chandeliers hanging from their ceilings and finest carpets on their floors has sprawling open spaces around the main building that are used for Namaz. There are more than fifty entry gates to the Mosque. The Mosque can accommodate five lac devotees without a fuss. The open spaces are dotted with sky umbrellas to protect the devotees from sun, rain and frost. To my puzzlement I see almost no plinth in the grand mosque, the possible reason of which might be the absence of rains and floods, besides a perfect drainage system. This mosque with dozens of washrooms, ablution rooms, underground parking lots and the cleaning system is a perfect example of fine management. There is no rush, no disorder and in general no hustle-bustle. This mosque too is in the middle of commercial area having hundreds of hotels, restaurants and shops around.
Return journey is simpler. A flight in early morning hours takes me from Medina to Jeddah. As the airplane gains height I see million lights illuminating over the city of Medina, a beautiful sight. The sky is clear and lights brilliant. I have never seen such dazzling lights over the skies of any city in India. I wonder if that is accounted for by air pollution over our cities. The flight from Jeddah to Lucknow takes off at 8.30 in the morning. I have, as usual, been able to manage a window seat. As the plane rises in the air, glides over the skis of Jeddah and then takes a straight path, the enormousness of the city dawns over me. It is a huge city with miles and miles long straight roads catering to unending caravan of automobiles. Then the city is left behind and under the wings of airplane I see vast expanse of grey desert and low mountains.
The crew serves food, the breakfast cum lunch. After the lunch I try to keep enjoying the desert outside under the wings but crew insists upon to lower the window curtain as most of the passengers wish to sleep. I know it is not true. It is they who wish the curtains dropped and passengers asleep so that they have some work-free time. I feel angry but can’t fight with the hostile crew of a foreign airline. There are too many risks. I close my eyes, although not able to take a nap.
A few hours later when the curtains are up again we are on Indian soil. Another hour and I am in the familiar skies of ever friendly, ever warm Lucknow, the home.
January 2018