Chapter 6a- The Train to Madinah

A Train Journey Towards Madinah

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A heart heavy but filled with hope

Throughout the journey, Nazia had been Shehnaz's anchor. Her hand was always there—steady, reassuring, present. In every moment of uncertainty, Shehnaz had felt the quiet comfort of not being alone.

Depression was her constant companion, demanding she fight through every waking hour. But Nazia had stood beside her through it all, and Shehnaz noticed. She was grateful, deeply so.

It wasn't that Shehnaz couldn't travel alone—she had done it countless times before, navigating journeys with ease and independence. But depression had changed things. It had worn her down in ways she couldn't always explain, leaving her feeling vulnerable and often afraid. Going to Umrah with Nazia made it easier. There was comfort in knowing someone's watchful eyes were always on her.

As they reached the station, urgency overtook them. The train was scheduled for 4 o'clock, and they were running behind. After the cab driver dropped them off, each grabbed their bags and rushed toward the entrance. For the first time during the entire trip, Nazia walked ahead—leaving Shehnaz trailing behind.

The hurried pace left little room for anything else. They searched for signs, trying to orient themselves. Arrivals one way, Departures the other. They asked a security guard for directions, and he pointed them toward a queue. Soni had the hard copies of their tickets ready. They stood in line, waiting to be checked, their plans for pre-boarding coffee abandoned. Each of them was craving caffeine.

The gentleman at the gate reviewed their tickets and directed them toward the platforms. Their train was at Platform 6. Nazia continued walking ahead, the others following close behind.

Shehnaz walked slower now, something heavy settling in her chest. A familiar ache. Thoughts raced through her mind, but she tried to quiet them. I am nobody's responsibility, she reminded herself. She kept walking toward the train.

They entered Coach 6, boarding one after another. Luggage was stowed, seats were found—two sets of paired seats, one behind the other. As they settled in, Shehnaz turned to Nazia and quietly mentioned how she had felt left alone in those moments.

But there was no room for conflict. Out of all these days together, those ten minutes could be overlooked. Or could they? The hurt lingered, deeper than she wanted to admit.

One of the many reminders of how depression made her feel—small, forgotten, easily left behind. But she knew that only Allah could truly heal her, only He could wipe away her tears and mend what felt broken inside. And that was exactly the direction she was moving toward now—toward Him, toward mercy, toward the sacred land where prayers are answered. She would make dua. She would ask for help, for strength, for the healing she so desperately needed. This journey wasn't just about the destination—it was a walk toward wholeness, toward peace, toward becoming whole again. The train moved forward through the quiet landscape, carrying her closer to Madinah. And with every passing mile, Shehnaz held onto hope—that in the blessed city of the Prophet ﷺ, she would find what her soul had been searching for all along.

She decided to sleep the rest of the way, hoping rest might ease the heaviness inside. They were moving toward Madinah—that was all that mattered now. There are better things in this world, Shehnaz thought. Better, more lasting things in the next.

She leaned against the table, closed her eyes, and tried to let go—though her heart remained heavy still, she hoped she would wake up feeling light.

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Weeks After Ramadan – An Update

Time has a way of softening memories and bringing clarity to our hearts.

Weeks after Ramadan, and even after Umrah had been completed, we found ourselves together again — this time at a Ramadan Iftar. Saji had joined us, adding warmth and laughter to our gathering. As we sat together, the conversations naturally drifted toward memories — the small moments that make a journey unforgettable. And with reflection comes perspective.

A story resurfaced from that day.

According to Nazia, she had walked ahead only to catch the train, making sure we all managed to get on in time. She also mentioned that Shehnaz was never truly left alone, except perhaps for a few brief moments.

Shehnaz had previously denied this version.

But with time, Shehnaz now feels it is alright to accept that perhaps her memory held only to part of the picture that affected her deeply.

There is also another version of the scene — where Nazia recalls leaning over Shehnaz and falling asleep at first, with Shehnaz falling asleep afte some time later. Shehnaz does not remember it this way. And in fairness, both accounts deserve acknowledgment.

Memory is delicate. Perspective is personal. Intentions are often purer than our recollections.

So I choose to record both versions here — without accusation, without defense. Insha’Allah, the full and perfect truth will be known on the Day of Judgment. When we will actually view the scene where we enacted this entire story. Subhan'Allah!

And yet, beyond the details of who walked ahead or who slept first, there is something far greater.

I am thankful to Allah for giving us this story.

Yes — even this.

Because it is a story we can revisit. A story that humbles us. A story that reminds us how easily misunderstandings form and how gently they can dissolve. A story that allows us to grow softer with one another.

As we sat together at Iftar, with Saji joining us and laughter filling the room, it was impossible not to think back to the days of Umrah — the moments of devotion, reflection, and the serene beauty of being in sacred spaces. Those memories mingled with the present, making gratitude feel even deeper.

We met, we smiled, we reflected. And in that moment, none of the details mattered as much as the blessing of still being together.


Alhamdulillah for stories that teach us.

Alhamdulillah for hearts that reflect.

Alhamdulillah for friends, family, and the beauty of shared memories.

And perhaps, in the end, that is the truest version of the story.