The Train to Madinah

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 that 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 a pre-boarding coffee quietly abandoned. Each of them was craving caffeine.

The gentleman at the gate reviewed their tickets and directed them toward Platform 6. Nazia continued walking ahead. The others followed close behind.

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.

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

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.

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

A story resurfaced from that day on the platform.

According to Nazia, she had walked ahead only to make sure they all managed to board the train in time. She also mentioned that Shehnaz was never truly left alone — except perhaps for a few brief moments. Shehnaz had previously held a different version of events. But with time, she now feels it is alright to accept that perhaps her memory had held only the part of the picture that had affected her most deeply.

There is also another version of the scene — where Nazia recalls leaning over toward Shehnaz and drifting off to sleep first, with Shehnaz following sometime later. Shehnaz does not remember it this way. And in fairness, both accounts deserve acknowledgment.

Both versions are recorded here — without accusation, without defense. Insha'Allah, the full and perfect truth will be known on the Day of Judgment, when we will actually witness the scene as it truly was. Subhan'Allah.

Beyond the details of who walked ahead or who slept first, there is something far greater worth holding onto. This is a story that can be revisited. A story that humbles. A story that shows how easily misunderstandings form — and how gently they can dissolve when hearts choose softness over certainty.

As they sat together at Iftar, with Saji joining them and laughter filling the room, memories of the Umrah days mixed with the warmth of the present. Those moments of devotion, of sacred spaces, of prayers offered with everything they had — it all came back softly, making gratitude feel even deeper.

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