Leaving Ourselves Behind

Back at the hotel, they freshened up once more before heading to the masjid again. They knew they needed to arrive early to secure a spot inside, but despite their best efforts, they were already running late. For Maghrib, they would have to settle for praying outside. Even so, they decided to walk inside as soon as the prayers concluded — they weren't ready to let go just yet.

They made their duas, picked up their sling bags, and walked toward the masjid. Some people were leaving while a few others, like them, were walking in. Once inside, the crowd was still quite dense. They made their way toward the front, searching for three empty spots where they could fit. The women who had settled in were well placed, and there seemed to be no gaps to be found.

Finally, they found a section — a spot that sat more between two rows than within one. They decided that once prayer began, the crowd would naturally settle and make space for everyone. One lady nearby didn't seem entirely pleased by their presence in that awkward gap. They chose to ignore the discomfort, sat down quietly, and waited for the adhaan.

It was during this waiting that they noticed something remarkable: the ceiling of the masjid was moving. The entire section shifted, revealing the sky above. The girls talked amongst themselves in hushed tones, marvelling at how such heavy concrete could be moved so seamlessly from one end to another. It felt extraordinary to witness it.

Soon, the adhaan for Isha echoed through the masjid, and they joined the congregation in prayer. To their surprise, the older lady who they had thought was displeased with them earlier now offered them more space with a warm, generous gesture. It was a quiet lesson — do not judge anyone too quickly. The moment felt heartwarming and entirely genuine.

After the prayers, they walked out into the dark. The lights of the masjid spread brightness across the surrounding area, illuminating everything with a soft, golden glow. Walking out felt heart-wrenching. The realisation that they would be leaving soon made their throats tighten with emotion. They paused to take pictures, trying to capture and hold onto every precious moment before finally stepping away from the Haram.

It was now time for their ziyarah and dinner. They weren't particularly hungry yet — their late lunch had seen to that — but the evening's plans awaited them. Kutty was waiting at the usual pickup spot. The drive took them around the mountain of Uhud, and he gave them a brief but informative account of the historic Battle of Uhud. The children who had joined them in the car listened intently, discussing the story amongst themselves from the back seats, their voices rising and falling with the retelling of something ancient and true.

Their next stop was the cemetery where the beloved Prophet's companions, peace be upon him, were buried. They paused there to pay their respects — a moment of stillness amid the busy evening. It was here that Shehnaz noticed several cats roaming around the area. She had purchased cat food the previous day, hoping to find cats to feed somewhere in Madinah. She fed a few of them, but her heart grew heavy as she watched. The cats no longer seemed at ease. They appeared scared and wary, reluctant to approach, as though something in their world had shifted.

From the cemetery, they headed to Biriyani Spot for dinner. Shehnaz had been looking forward to irachchi puttu, while the others were eager to try other items — and a better falooda than the one they'd had before. When they arrived, they looked for Shoukath, the friendly waiter they had met earlier. He was there, busy attending to a full restaurant, but he made sure to come over to them personally and take their orders himself.

This time, Saji suggested they order extra food to take back home. Nazia and Soni were immediately keen — they were accustomed to carrying good food back from their travels, little edible souvenirs of a journey well lived. Shehnaz decided to join them. They placed additional takeaway orders. Sadly, the irachchi puttu had sold out for the day, so they ordered biriyani along with a few other items. Falooda and chai were added to complete the meal.

After dinner, Shoukath brought the bill and lingered to chat. They exchanged numbers, promising him they would return on their next visit and would recommend the restaurant to friends who would appreciate such honest, authentic food.

They carried the kunafa box along with the rest of their items from the restaurant, their bags growing heavier with food and warmth and the particular fullness of a final meal shared between friends.

Dinner was done. It was time to head back to the hotel and wrap up their stay. On the way, they inquired with Kutty about giving sadaqah. He readily offered to take care of it on their behalf, which they gratefully accepted.

The drive back was short. Once they arrived, Nazia stayed behind a moment to speak with Kutty about the sadaqah arrangements while Shehnaz, Saji, and Soni went up to their rooms. When Nazia finally joined them, she suddenly realised her wallet was missing. Panic set in immediately. If she had dropped it somewhere on the road, recovery was almost impossible. But if it was in Kutty's car, there was still hope.

Saji called Kutty without hesitation. To everyone's immense relief, he confirmed the wallet was in his car — still safe, untouched.

Now that they had acquired extra items and takeaway food to pack, they realised they needed an additional bag. They walked to the nearby stores, entered a supermarket, and immediately found a duffle bag on sale — the perfect size, the perfect price.

While in the store, Shehnaz found a counter where iththar was being sold by a pair of Afghan brothers. What followed was a good deal of back-and-forth — Nazia, Soni, and Saji joining her at the counter, each weighing in — before a fair price was finally agreed upon. She also picked up a prayer mat while she was there. (The full story of that negotiation is told in Chapter 11a.)

Shopping finished, they started walking back to the hotel — when Shehnaz and Nazia suddenly remembered the silver rings. Shehnaz had been eyeing a particular ring at a nearby shop. They found it, and Nazia also spotted two delicate chains for the little girls back home. After a little more bargaining, they left the store feeling happy and thoroughly satisfied.

Back at the hotel, they began the long process of packing. Saji's nephew Aamir was still with them but would be checking out later. Time was slipping away quickly. They needed to leave by 3:00 AM at the latest to catch their 6:00 AM flight — and they still held the intention of praying two more rakahs at the masjid before they left for good.

They ordered an Uber just in time. After packing all their bags and checking and rechecking everything multiple times, they finally closed the hotel room door behind them for the last time. They took the elevator down one final time. At reception, knowing the Uber was waiting outside, they quickly loaded all their suitcases into the car — then asked the driver if he could wait just a few more minutes while they prayed their two rakahs of sunnah. The driver kindly agreed.

Shehnaz, Nazia, Soni, and Saji rushed to the Haram one last time, their hearts heavy with everything that could not be put into words. They soaked in everything — the sights, the sounds, the blessed and irreplaceable atmosphere — one final time. They prayed with full hearts, tears welling in their eyes, knowing this might be their last moment in this sacred place for a long time. Then, slowly and reluctantly, they walked back to where the car was waiting.

As the car pulled away and the illuminated minarets of Masjid an-Nabawi faded into the distance, they knew that while they were physically departing, the memories, the blessings, and the spiritual renewal they had found in Madinah would remain with them forever. They sat in silence, making quiet duas that Allah would grant them the opportunity to return to this sacred city again someday.

The journey back to their everyday lives had begun. But Madinah would forever remain alive in their hearts.