Chapter 12-From Home To Home

Back to the DUNIYA

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Departure from Madinah

The car ride ended soon enough. Madinah airport looked beautiful and clean. It wasn't huge, but it was big enough for their needs. The driver dropped them off at the departure entrance. They got out and carefully pulled out all of their bags, confirming they hadn't left anything behind. A single car carrying more than six people and ten pieces of luggage—it was quite a feat.

At the airport, they needed to collect the Zamzam water they would be taking home. They found the designated area where it could be picked up. There were many windows—one for payment and others for collecting the Zamzam containers. Once they paid and received the zam zam, Shehnaz carefully wrote each member's name on the boxes with a ballpoint pen to ensure nothing got mixed up.

Next came check-in. They walked to the Turkish Airlines counters and found, to their pleasant surprise, that there were no lines—the area was completely empty. They approached one of the counters where a gentleman stood looking visibly tired and disinterested. He checked them in with minimal effort and handed over their boarding passes without much conversation.

Security came next. They passed through it like a breeze and made their way to Gate 110. It was Fajr time, so they decided to pray before their departure. After completing their prayers, they caught up with Saji and her children. Boarding began slowly but eventually moved quicker.

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The Flight to Istanbul

This aircraft had a four-seat arrangement per row. Shehnaz, Nazia, and Soni sat down together, quietly hoping that the fourth seat would be taken by a female passenger. However, soon a gentleman walked in and sat down next to Soni. All of them wished he could switch seats with a lady for their comfort. Finally, they decided to ask Saif, who was seated nearby ahead of them, if he could switch.

The gentleman in question only spoke Arabic. One of the men in the cabin kindly volunteered to translate for them. The man readily agreed to the switch, and Saif moved to the seat next to Soni. Later, Saji would switch with Saif, and it became an all-girls row once again. The Umrah team was sitting together—again. It felt right.

The flight was approximately three hours since they were departing from Madinah. Unfortunately, the food served on board was not very enjoyable, and all of them felt dissatisfied by it. But it was a short flight, so they managed. They landed safely and soundly in Istanbul.

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Layover in Istanbul

Once on the ground, they gathered their belongings and prepared to disembark. Soni had been battling sciatica pain throughout the trip, a sharp, radiating discomfort that could make even the simplest movements feel unbearable. Yet, remarkably, during their Umrah—during those sacred moments of worship, the tawaf around the Kaaba, the sa'i between Safa and Marwa—the pain had not come. It was as if Allah had granted her body a reprieve, allowing her to complete her rituals without distraction or difficulty. She had whispered prayers of gratitude for this blessing, knowing it was no coincidence.

But now, as they prepared to leave, the pain had returned with intensity.

As they walked toward where Saji was waiting, moving slowly through the crowds, Soni spotted a buggy being driven around the area. The small electric vehicles weaved through the pedestrians, offering rides to those who needed them. It seemed like a practical solution appearing at just the right moment.

"Maybe we should use that," Soni suggested, gesturing toward the approaching buggy. "We could rest a bit before the journey."

As the buggy drew closer, Soni raised her hand to get the driver's attention. He slowed down, and she asked, "Can you take us toward the transfer point?"

The gentleman nodded, but then mentioned the cost involved—a fee that made all of them exchange surprised glances.

"But isn't this supposed to be free?" Soni murmured.

They had seen these buggies throughout their stay, assuming they were a complimentary service provided for pilgrims, especially those who were elderly, disabled, or unwell. The unexpected charge felt wrong somehow, out of place in this land where so much was given freely in service to those seeking Allah's pleasure.

After a brief, silent consultation—the kind that happens through exchanged looks among people who know each other well—they decided against it. They thanked the driver and continued walking.

By the time they reached Saji, Soni was moving more freely, the sharp edge of pain dulled to a manageable ache.

Shehnaz was fighting her own battle. She let out a small groan and reached for her shoulder. The pain had become unbearable—a deep, throbbing ache that radiated from her shoulder joint down her arm and up into her neck.

"It's really bad now," she said, her face tightening as she tried to rotate her arm and winced at the sharp resistance.

She had been battling frozen shoulder for quite a while now. Over time, it had progressed into something far more limiting. Simple tasks—reaching for something on a high shelf, fastening a bra, even putting on the jacket had become small battles requiring strategy and patience.

Perhaps it came from all those long drives she made to Albany. Hours gripping the steering wheel, shoulders tensed, navigating traffic and weather, her body held in the same position mile after mile. The repetitive strain, the lack of movement variation—it made sense that her body would eventually protest.

Or perhaps, as her doctor had gently suggested, it was just a sign that she was approaching menopause. Women in perimenopause were particularly susceptible to frozen shoulder, something about the hormonal changes affecting the connective tissue, making it more prone to inflammation and stiffness. It was one of those conditions that seemed to choose women in their late forties and fifties with particular preference, an unwelcome companion to the other transitions her body was navigating.

Either way, the discomfort was persistent. It had been her quiet companion throughout the trip, a dull background ache that she'd learned to manage with careful movements and occasional pain relievers. During Umrah itself, she'd been so focused on her prayers, so absorbed in the spiritual experience, that she'd barely noticed it. But now, after hours on the plane in a cramped seat, unable to properly stretch or adjust her position, the shoulder had stiffened considerably.

The others noticed her struggling and gathered around with concern.

"How bad is it?" Nazia asked, her hand instinctively going to Shehnaz's arm in sympathy.

"Bad enough," Shehnaz admitted, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I can barely lift my arm above shoulder height right now."

Soni, still managing her own sciatica discomfort, exchanged a knowing look with Shehnaz. They were both carrying physical burdens on this journey home, their bodies reminding them of their own fragility even as their souls felt renewed. There was something almost poetic about it—returning from a spiritual journey with hearts lightened but bodies aching, a reminder that they inhabited both the spiritual and physical realms simultaneously.

"I have a pain med that you can use." Saji suggested practically.

Shehnaz nodded gratefully, carefully adjusting the strap of her carry-on to the other shoulder, moving with the cautious deliberation of someone who knew exactly how far they could push before the pain became too much. She had learned to work within her limitations, to ask for help when needed, to accept that her body required gentleness now in ways it hadn't before. She took the pill Saji had handed over. Shehnaz swallowed it without any water. The others, looked at her in disbelief. Shehnaz was used to taking pills this way. One of the many weird things that she did.

As they made their way through the airport, Shehnaz moved a bit more slowly than the others, one hand occasionally reaching up to massage the tender area. But she kept pace, kept moving forward, because that's what you did. You carried what you had to carry—whether it was luggage, or pain, or both—and you kept walking toward home.

They decided to grab something to eat. They wandered around the airport, searching for a suitable place, and finally settled at the Shake Shack. They sat down and chatted warmly as they waited for their food. During this time, Saji shared some of her personal experiences—deeply emotional stories that moved everyone at the table. They all made heartfelt duas for her.

The conversation turned to the topic of depression. Shehnaz felt deeply connected to the discussion. She had always wanted to do something meaningful in that field, to help people struggling with mental health, but things didn't seem that easy in this day and age. Saji shared experiences that Shehnaz could completely relate to—moments of struggle, loneliness, and the search for peace.

After the serious conversations, they also spoke about lighter topics—fun memories and incidents in life that had brought them happiness and laughter. Eventually, Saji decided to join her children in the lounge, while Shehnaz, Nazia, and Soni decided to rest at the airport masjid.

They walked to the masjid lay down for a while, desperately needing some sleep. However, the lady who looked after the prayer area came in to wake them up a couple of times, pointing firmly to a poster on the masjid wall that clearly stated: "Eating, drinking, and sleeping here is prohibited." The three of them really needed rest, so despite the warnings, they lay down for just a bit longer. Eventually, the lady left them alone, and they managed to catch a little more sleep.

When they woke up, they discovered that their flight had been delayed by several more hours. Another lady at the masjid also complained about her flight being delayed. She introduced herself as Sumaiyya from Pakistan, heading to Washington. They prayed together quickly and then picked up their bags, deciding they needed coffee to help them wake up properly.

They soon found a coffee shop, and Nazia stepped up to order. The man behind the counter asked if they wanted "milch" in their coffee. Nazia, mishearing it as "mint," responded firmly, "No mint." A hijabi girl standing nearby couldn't help but laugh at the misunderstanding. It became clear that "milk" sounded more like "milch" in Turkish. They ordered a coffee and an oatmeal yogurt, which they shared and finished together. It was time to head to their gate—D14—from where they would board their flight home.

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The Long Journey Home

This time, the seating arrangement was perfect—three seats in a row, just for them. They settled in comfortably and soon felt drowsy again. The plane sat on the runway for what felt like an unusually long time. They took a power nap in between and still found the plane stationary on the runway when they woke. Finally, the aircraft took off. The flight was full, as usual.

Being utterly exhausted, all of them fell asleep shortly after takeoff. They were eventually woken by a flight attendant offering food. This time, the food was actually quite good. They ate gratefully and then went right back to sleep.

During the flight, Shehnaz decided to watch the movie Piku on the in-flight entertainment system. She had already seen it before, but there was something about Amitabh Bachchan and Irrfan Khan that made her want to watch it again. Bachchan reminded her so much of her father—his mannerisms, his expressions, the warmth in his voice.

Shehnaz's phone had completely run out of charge, and there seemed to be no way to charge it on the plane. The aircraft didn't offer USB-C port charging. After some hesitation, Soni and Nazia decided to ask an elderly gentleman seated nearby if he had a charging cable they could borrow. He readily handed it over without any fuss. However, the cable didn't seem to work with the available port. The kind older man then pointed to a spot under the seat and suggested they try there. Shehnaz had her own cable and charging block, so she plugged it into the under-seat outlet, and to her relief, her phone slowly came back to life.

The flight was ten hours long, and they had slept through most of it. When they were awake, Shehnaz and Nazia spoke for quite some time—mostly about themselves, their families, their journeys in life, and how incredibly quickly this entire trip had passed. It felt surreal.

As they neared New York, the city lights below began to twinkle into view. Suddenly, the pilot made an unexpected announcement: he would have to retry the landing. The plane ascended again, circled around, and then came in for another approach. This time, the landing was smooth and perfect.

As soon as the plane touched down, passengers immediately stood up, eager to disembark. Shehnaz, Nazia, and Soni waited patiently for a bit before getting up and deboarding themselves.

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Arrival Home

Once off the plane, they made their way to immigration. Thankfully, there was no major wait for the checks, and the officer let them through easily. Their next stop was baggage claim. The screen indicated that their flight's luggage would arrive at Belt 2, but when they got there, no bags were appearing. They waited for a while, slightly anxious, before their bags finally began coming through. They also had to collect their Zamzam. At that moment, the boxes that came in were marked distinctly with markers. The names read Arshad, Idris, and Shams. The names Shehnaz, Nazia and Sonia were still missing. The names and the boxes soon appeared.

Once they had gathered all their Zamzam containers and luggage, they walked toward the arrivals area where their families were waiting eagerly for them. Sarin, Mehaboob, and Naufal had arrived along with Nazia's younger children. Everyone was absolutely ecstatic to see one another. They exchanged warm salaams.

Naufal had thoughtfully brought along a thermos of hot tea, which he distributed to everyone. He had also brought rolls, which he handed out a little later. The simple gesture felt incredibly comforting after such a long journey.

Next, they took the train to the parking area, where they dispersed to their respective vehicles. Saying goodbye had to be quick since the families of Shehnaz and Soni had to get out of the train sooner. Shehnaz, Soni, and their husbands traveled together in one car since they lived close to each other—it made the most sense. Mehaboob and Nazia went their own way in another vehicle.

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The Bittersweet Return

All of them were utterly exhausted, but they also missed Mecca and Madinah terribly. They felt the weariness in their bones, but they also deeply missed what they had been doing—the prayers, the spiritual peace, the closeness to Allah, the blessed atmosphere of those sacred cities.

As they moved through the traffic toward their homes, a mixture of emotions washed over them. It felt like both bliss and sadness. They were back where they belonged, surrounded by their families and the familiar comforts of home. But they also longed to be where they had just spent all this precious time—in the holy cities, where their hearts had found a peace they had never quite experienced before.

The lights of the city blurred past the car windows. The hum of the engine was steady and familiar. They were home, yes—but a part of them would forever remain in Mecca and Madinah, waiting for the day they could return.

As Shehnaz looked out the window into the quiet night, she whispered a quiet prayer: "Ya Allah, please accept our Umrah. Bring us back to Your sacred lands again. Ameen."

And with that prayer in their hearts, they journeyed home—changed, renewed, and forever grateful.

To be continued .... again.... at Mecca and Madinah.... Insha Allah!

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