CHAPTER ONE BEFORE DEPARTURE…

THE CALL TO HAJJ

“I didn’t plan for Hajj… Allah planned it for me.”

I can’t quite remember what had triggered it. I was feeling low, unsettled in a way I couldn’t explain. Then, in a divine moment, the thought of performing Hajj came to my mind — something I had kept putting off for many years by giving excuses.

Not knowing where to begin, I started looking into Hajj groups. A friend recommended Good Hope, known for its support of solo female travelers. I checked their details, read reviews, and something about it just felt right.

There were obstacles, delays, uncertainty. Getting the visa became a test in itself. With the private Hajj quota being drastically reduced this year, it felt like the doors were closing before I could even step through them. Was this Allah testing my sincerity? My trust? I didn’t know — but I kept moving forward.

Alhamdulillah, step by step, things began to fall into place. Around the same time, I found out that a sister from my community, Aleema Misbah, was also planning Hajj with this group. We had never met in person but started planning things over WhatsApp. Mutual friends reassured me that, “She’s exactly like you — you’ll be great together.” That gave me comfort.

Still, I was nervous about going alone, but I built my resolve by preparing — reading everything I could find about Hajj, watching videos. I pushed myself physically — walking more, going to the gym. And like any anxious traveler, I probably overpacked. I just didn’t want to be unprepared — not physically, not emotionally.

As the date approached, my nervousness grew — I was carrying the fears of my family and friends too, since I was travelling solo. Everyone knows how challenging Hajj can be. And so, with uncertainty in my heart but trust in Allah’s plan, I stepped into this sacred journey that had called me gently, yet powerfully.

“Hajj is not a journey you plan… it’s a journey you are invited to.”

CHAPTER TWO

SETTING FOOT ON THE HOLY LAND

After all the planning, packing, and deep duas, the moment finally arrived. Standing at Dubai airport, ready to leave, a wave of emotion washed over me. Saying goodbye to my husband was harder than I expected. When the men in our group reassured him with, “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine… she’s with all of us,” it touched me deeply. These simple words carried the warmth and reassurance that while I was stepping into the unknown, I was not alone.

At the airport, I met Aleema, and something clicked instantly. We greeted each other like old friends, as if Allah had already placed barakah in our bond. Seeing a sister from my community brought comfort.

The airport was buzzing with people, emotions, and the quiet weight of what lay ahead. Our group of 25 pilgrims — men and women — slowly gathered; some chatting, some praying silently, some already lost in thoughts.

We flew from Dubai with Kuwait Airlines. Our Amir, M. M. Akbarka, had a calm, guiding persona, and slowly the group began to settle into a sense of purpose. During a stopover at Kuwait airport, something beautiful unfolded: the women began bonding — sharing stories, offering comfort, simply being there for each other. Though we had just met, it felt like we were meant to walk this path together. Hajj, I realized, is never truly a solo journey.

After landing in Jeddah, we were getting ready for long, exhausting airport formalities. But to our surprise, everything was completed within minutes. It felt like the doors were opening effortlessly — another sign that Allah was taking care of us.

The drive to Makkah felt long, slowed by numerous checkpoints, and my heart was racing the entire time. The men in our group were reciting the Talbiyah aloud — and it was deeply soothing. I recited it silently, confirming my presence to Allah.

At the hotel, we were welcomed warmly — guests of Allah. It was more than just hospitality, a reminder that we had been invited for this journey. Khaliq Ka, owner of our group, was there to receive us.

Later that night, around 2 a.m., we went as a group to perform Umrah. I was with Aleema and Misbah. As we entered the Haram, walking towards the Kaaba felt surreal. It was something I had dreamed of for so long, and now it was right in front of me. To be honest, I don’t even know what I was feeling. I was too overwhelmed to name my emotions. The Kaaba stood before me — majestic, eternal. Quiet and humbled, I whispered my prayers.

As we finished the first round of tawaf, I started to feel calm and settled. Moving and praying felt natural. Aleema and I did the Umrah together, and I felt this quiet happiness — like something new was beginning inside me. 

CHAPTER THREE

BEFORE THE PILGRIMAGE, THERE WAS MAKKAH

We checked into a small hotel — far from the comfort -It was a reality check; room was cramped, barely enough space for the four of us and our luggage. But by the next day, we had figured it out. That’s the beauty of being human — we adapt. And this was just the beginning. Much more lay ahead that would test and transform us.

With us was a sister who was much younger but radiated deep piety. Her spiritual strength uplifted us. Our room turned into a special sanctorum — it became a space of sisterhood, growth, and shared purpose.

Our days followed a simple rhythm: Eat, Pray,Repeat — with a limited amount of sleep .

The weather was extremely hot and humid, with temperatures touching 45–50 degrees. Except for Dhuhr, we tried to go to the Haram for every prayer. Each visit reminded me how small I was in the vast ocean of believers — people from every corner of the world, speaking different languages, dressed in different styles, yet united by a single purpose.

And amidst all this, I was struck by something I hadn’t expected — the way the police and security personnel treated us. Despite the crowds and chaos, they remained calm, respectful, and kind. They would call out to us, -Hajja, Hajja, Tareeq, Tareeq!? That word still echoes in my heart. They sprayed cool mist over the crowds, especially when the heat became unbearable.

Every day, at around 10 a.m., we had our classes. We were blessed with two Amirs to guide us — Ali Shakir Ka, whose light-hearted yet deeply meaningful insights often struck us with clarity, and M.M. Akbar Ka, whose calm and composed teaching style explained everything with gentle wisdom and scientific logic. Both personalities fed the soul in different but complementary ways.

Soon, the rest of our group from India arrived, and we’d often run into each other during classes or mealtimes. Meanwhile, the -Dubai gang had already become like family — laughing, joking, and lifting each other’s spirits, especially when the heat and fatigue began to wear us down. As days passed, people started falling sick — the crowds, close quarters, and high temperatures made it easy for infection to spread.

But there was also a deep sense of care — people looking out for each other, sharing medicines, and offering prayers for recovery.

There was a doctor couple from India in our group who were absolute lifesavers. Anytime someone felt sick or needed advice, they were right there, helping out with kindness and calm.

Once in the Haram, I could sit for hours looking at the Kaaba — each glance felt like a thread connecting me to something eternal, ancient, and pure. I visualized Prophet Ibrahim (AS) building it with his son Ismail (AS), reflected on the footsteps of Prophet Muhammad (SAW) as he walked the very ground I was sitting on. I thought of the sacrifice of Hajara (RA) and the eternal spring of Zamzam.

I thought of my grandparents, my parents, how they once stood here — had their prayers paved my way to this sacred place?

I especially prayed that my family, would one day stand here too, answering the call of Prophet Ibrahim (AS), just like I did.

And I prayed. For family, friends, even distant acquaintances.

These quiet, simple days in Makkah were shaping me — gently preparing me for the days of Hajj to come.