Mohsin Aziz

The following morning, on the 5th of June, just after Fajr, a bayan was held in the tent on the virtue of sabr—patience. As the beds were retracted, the space transformed into a modest yet serene gathering area. Pilgrims sat cross-legged on the floor, the air filled with quiet reverence.

After the bayan, I joined a few fellow pilgrims in bringing tea to share. People were scattered in small, peaceful clusters—some engaged in heartfelt conversations, others immersed in the recitation of the Qur’an. A few were quietly engaged in their morning azkār, their fingers rhythmically moving along the beads of their tasbih.

I, too, sipped my tea, savoring both its warmth and the calm of the morning. It had become my daily habit during the Hajj to jot down a simple to-do list for the day. It was a small act—barely five minutes of planning—but it brought a sense of clarity and purpose to the hours ahead. As each task was completed, I would strike it off the list, a quiet satisfaction settling within me.

Once my tea was done, I reached for my pocket Qur’an and began to recite, letting its timeless words wash over me in the stillness of the sacred morning.

At around 5 a.m., Asif Bhai arrived and, in his usual calm and composed manner, announced that everyone should be ready by 5:30 a.m.—we would be heading back to the hotel. The bus, he said, was scheduled to depart at 6:00 a.m.

I immediately called my wife to inform her. Like me, she was puzzled. Weren’t we supposed to remain in Mina for at least three days? we wondered aloud. It seemed there were differing opinions among the various schools of thought regarding the duration of stay in Mina. But as we would soon come to realize, this decision wasn’t necessarily rooted in fiqh—at least not in our understanding of it. It was a logistical or organizational call, and we simply had to follow suit.

In fact, after the dinner fiasco yesterday, our team leader Jamal bhai decided that we would go to the hotel and take breakfast in the hotel and stay there till maghrib. The group will do early dinner and come back to the Mina Camp after maghrib. Isha will be done at the camp, and the night will be spent at the camp. This way the problem of food will be solved and the obligation of spending night at the Mina would also be fulfilled.

We reached the hotel at 6.30 a.m. Our room was as it is except that it was cleaned by the hotel staff, and bedsheets were changed. Supplies in the washroom had been replenished. I immediately went for breakfast. Unlike Madina Hotel, the good thing about Makkah Hotel was separate dining areas for men and women. The name of the restaurant was Tasneen (tasneem is the name of a spring in the Paradise). In the ladies’ section, there was no entry for men. It was good. Ladies could take their food in a relaxed atmosphere. However, in the men section, it was allowed for families to sit and partake food together. It was not very ideal but practical. There were a few ladies, some elderly who were on wheelchairs. They had come with their sons or husband’s. If they had to go to the ladies’ restaurant, who would take care of them? They came with their mensfolks to the male section.

Breakfast at the hotel was a lavish affair. A grand spread of dishes adorned the tables. It was a rich array of breads, fresh salads, cut fruits, and an assortment of delectable sweets. Yet, for me, simplicity was the key. I helped myself to a modest combination of a single slice of bread, a fluffy omelette, a few pieces of watermelon and pineapple, and a warm cup of karak tea. This became my morning ritual for the entirety of my stay in Makkah.

Among the many offerings, the live omelette station was the highlight. Every morning, I would eagerly join the queue to watch the magic unfold. The chef behind the station was a man of Saudi-Rohingya descent, his skilled hands swiftly crafting the perfect omelette.

The presence of the Rohingya in Makkah is quite significant—thousands of them now call the city home. Some are citizens, others hold legal residency permits, while many remain without official status. Their journey to Saudi Arabia began during the reign of the late King Faisal, a time when they first sought refuge here, fleeing the turmoil of their homeland(Ahmad, Syed Neaz, 2009). When I did my Umrah in 2015, that time also our Porter at the hotel was rohingya. He was a Saudi citizen. In Makkah, their presence has woven itself into the rich fabric of the city’s culture, and each morning, as I waited for my omelette, I couldn’t help but think about the long history of resilience that these people carry with them.

Arafat: The Soul of Hajj

Today was the blessed Day of Arafat — the very heart of Hajj, the day when pilgrims stand before their Lord in humble submission, their hearts full of longing and their hands raised in earnest du‘ā’.

Our day began early. We left our hotel at 9:00 a.m. and arrived at our Mina camp by 9:30. According to the schedule shared by our group leader, we were to be ready by 10:30 a.m. to depart for Arafat. Though we left a little behind schedule, by the mercy of Allah, we reached Arafat by 11:15 a.m.

Our assigned tents were well-organized and spacious. The men’s tent, number 41, was quite large and accommodating, while the women’s tent, number 62, was conveniently close by. Despite the intense heat of the day, the interiors of the tents were remarkably cool — outfitted with multiple air conditioners and blowers. In fact, it was so cool that I even turned off one of the units for comfort.

There wasn’t much scheduled activity before the prayer, as Zuhr was to be delayed and combined with Asr, following the Sunnah of the Prophet ﷺ. Around 12:15 p.m., the powerful and poignant Khutbah of Arafat was delivered from Masjid Al-Namirah. Though we were not physically present at the masjid, we experienced the moment through a live broadcast on our mobile phones from within our tents. It was a reminder of how technology can serve a sacred purpose.

Following that, a special Khutbah for Omani pilgrims was also relayed through the audio system in our tents, resonating through the quiet calm of Arafat as we listened attentively.

As we waited for the time of prayer and du‘ā’, the atmosphere carried a sense of serene anticipation — a stillness before the spiritual downpour. The Day of Arafat is not about external activity but deep, internal reflection. It is a time for shedding burdens, for baring the soul, for turning to Allah with every hope, every fear, and every secret desire.
Among all the sacred days that adorn the Islamic calendar, the Day of Arafat stands as the pinnacle of divine mercy, the very soul of Hajj. It is not merely a moment in the pilgrimaget. Is the pilgrimage. As the noble Hadith declares: “Arafat is Hajj.” Without it, the Hajj is void, incomplete. While there may be expiations for shortcomings in other rites, for missing Arafat, there is none — such is its gravity and grace.

On this sacred day, the pilgrim’s soul finds itself standing at the threshold of the Divine, in the vast plain of Arafat, under the open sky — where countless prophets once stood, where the Mercy of Allah descends more abundantly than on any other day.

At Arafat, the rituals reflect the solemnity of the hour: the Zuhr and Asr prayers are combined and shortened, performed with humility and reverence. Then begins a sacred stretch of time — from Asr until Maghrib — a time not for idle talk or worldly distraction, but a time wholly dedicated to du‘ā’.

Here, hands are raised, hearts are softened, and eyes overflow with tears as pilgrims pour out their souls to their Lord whispering hopes, seeking forgiveness, asking for guidance, pleading for mercy, and yearning for the ultimate gift: a beautiful ending (ḥusn al-khātimah) a death upon faith.

On this day, one begs for freedom from the blazing fire, for the Book of Deeds to be placed in the right hand, for ease and safety on the Day of Judgment, and for nearness to the Most Merciful in the gardens of eternity.

It is the day when angels descend in thousands, when sins are washed away like dust in the wind, and when the veil between servant and Master feels thinner than ever. There is no gathering on earth more beloved to Allah than the gathering at Arafat. It is the day on which Allah boasts in front of Angels, showing them his servants standing and seeking forgiveness in millions.

Due to high temperatures, Saudi authorities had called on the pilgrims to stay inside tents from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. (Oman Observer,  2025, June 5). I tried standing outside at around 3.30 p.m. outside the tent in open but could not manage more than 5 minutes. It was excruciatingly hot. I came back to the comfort of the tent.

Inside the tent at Arafat, every possible comfort had been thoughtfully arranged. It was a testament to the hospitality and care extended by the Government of Oman. Despite being in the heart of a desert plain, the atmosphere inside was nothing short of remarkable.

Rows of refrigerators stood well-stocked with chilled water bottles and an assortment of refreshing fruit juices — mango, orange, mixed berry, and more — each a welcome relief from the heat outside. Fresh fruits, including apples, oranges, and plums, were provided in generous supply, offering both nourishment and energy for the long day ahead.

Two massive deep freezers drew quite a bit of attention — filled with a delightful variety of ice creams, enough to bring a smile even in the solemnity of Arafat. I treated myself to one, savoring the cool sweetness in the calm of the tent.

But what truly caught my interest was something that felt like a small luxury in the middle of a spiritual journey, piping hot karak tea. Rich, fragrant, and perfectly spiced, it was a familiar comfort, and I gratefully sipped a cup right after the ice cream to protect my throat. There was no harm in being extra cautious. After all, common cold, sore throat, and fever often find their way into the ranks of pilgrims during Hajj, when bodies are tired and immunity stretched.

The care and detail in these arrangements didn’t go unnoticed. They were more than just physical comforts — they reflected a spirit of generosity, a reminder that ease can be a part of devotion, and that serving those on the path of worship is itself a noble act.

Arafat day is a busy day. Three points are to be touched on the same day. Morning, you are in Mina. Before Zuhr, you have to reach Arafat. Maghrib has to be prayed at Muzdalifa. It is physically and spiritually straining. As per the schedule shared with us, we were asked to be ready by 5.45 p.m. so that the buses could start by 6.15 p.m. towards Muzdalifa.

Jabal al-Raḥmah (The Mount of Mercy)

An important place of interest for the pilgrims, besides the Masjid Al Namirah, is the Jabal Al Rahma (the mountain of Mercy).
Standing silently in the heart of the plain of Arafat is a small, rocky hill that is witness to history. Many people from my tent were going to Jabal Al Rahma, but due to intense heat, I decided not to go. It was visible from outside our tent. At around 4 p.m., a group from my tent decided to go. I was also invited, but I politely excused myself. In hindsight, It proved to be a correct decision. Nobody could actually reach there. The gate near our tent, which provided access to Jabal Al Rahma, was closed by the authorities as a precautionary measure due to heavy rush at the mount. When the authorities saw a very heavy rush near the Jabal, they decided to stop others from reaching there, thus potentially averting  any possible mishap.

It was on this hill that the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ delivered his final sermon during his Farewell Pilgrimage — a sermon that echoed the timeless values of justice, equality, and the sanctity of life. Here, countless hearts have turned to Allah in repentance, and countless prayers have ascended to the heavens.

Though not a requirement of Hajj, many pilgrims yearn to climb this hill — not for its height or challenge, but for what it represents. It is a symbol of divine compassion and human humility. It is the place where Adam (‘alayhis-salām) and Ḥawwā’ were reunited on earth after their descent from Paradise and where their repentance was accepted by Allah. Ever since, it has been a place where forgiveness rains down upon those who seek it with sincerity.

From a distance, Jabal al-Raḥmah may appear as nothing more than a rugged elevation of stone. But to the believing heart, it is a sanctuary of hope — where sins are shed like worn garments, and the soul feels closer to its Creator than ever before.

To stand at its base, or even to gaze upon it from afar, is to be reminded of the endless mercy of Allah — the One who forgives again and again, no matter how many times we return.

It was standing on this Mount the Prophet declared that the Deen has been completed, a sign for sahaba that the Prophet’s mission is complete and it is time for the Rahmatul lillalmin to meet Ar Rahman and Ar Rahim. It was a powerful sermon, a charter of equality and human rights that the world had not heard before. This Farewell Sermon was delivered by the prophet on the Day of Arafat on 9 Dhul Hijjah, 10 Hijri. The Prophet said:

‘O People, lend me an attentive ear, for I know not whether I shall ever be amongst you again after this year. Therefore, listen carefully to what I am saying and take these words to those who could not be present here today.

O People, just as you regard this month, this day, and this city as sacred, so regard the life and property of every Muslim as a sacred trust. Return the goods entrusted to you to their rightful owners. Hurt no one so that no one may hurt you. Remember that you will indeed meet your Lord, and He will indeed reckon your deeds.

Allah has forbidden you to take interest; therefore, all interest obligations shall henceforth be waived. Your capital, however, is yours to keep. You will neither inflict nor suffer any injustice. Allah has decreed that there shall be no interest, and all interest due to ‘Abbas ibn ‘Abd al-Muttalib is waived.

All blood feuds from the days of ignorance are abolished, and the first claim I abolish is that of Rabi’ah ibn al-Harith.

O People, beware of Satan for the safety of your religion. He has lost all hope that he will ever be able to lead you astray in major things, so beware of following him in minor matters.

O People, you have certain rights over your women, and your women have rights over you. They are your partners and committed helpers. Treat them well and be kind to them, for they are your companions and trusted aides. You have taken them only as a trust from Allah and with His permission.

O People, listen to me in earnest: Worship Allah, perform your five daily prayers, fast during the month of Ramadan, give Zakah from your wealth, and perform the pilgrimage to the House if you are able.

All mankind is from Adam and Eve. An Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab, nor does a non-Arab have any superiority over an Arab. A white person has no superiority over a black person, nor does a black person have superiority over a white — except through piety and righteous action.

Learn that every Muslim is a brother to every other Muslim, and that the Muslims form one brotherhood. Nothing shall be legitimate to a Muslim which belongs to another Muslim unless it is given freely and willingly. Do not, therefore, do injustice to yourselves.

Remember, one day you will appear before Allah and answer for your deeds. So beware, do not stray from the path of righteousness after I am gone.

O People, no prophet will come after me, and no new faith will be born. Reason well, therefore, and understand the words which I convey to you. I leave behind me two things: the Qur’an and my Sunnah. If you follow them, you will never go astray.

All those who listen to me shall pass on my words to others, and those to others again. And may the last ones understand my words better than those who heard them directly.

O Allah, be my witness. O Allah, be my witness. O Allah, be my witness.‘

To this day, when pilgrims gather in the plains of Arafat, they are reminded of the message of the Prophet. They reflect upon it not merely as philosophical and historical narration but as a covenant between them and the Seal of the Prophet’s.

We had to start at 6.15 p.m. but there was a delay. Many of the pilgrims who went to Jabal Al Rahma were either stuck their due to heavy rush or got confused on the way back. Eventually, we managed to leave Arafat at 7.15 p.m. and reach Muzdalifa only just before 8 p.m. A new adventure awaited us.

(To be continued in Part 10)

References:

Ahmad, Syed Neaz (2009) Burma’s exiled Muslims. The Guardian, 12 October. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2009/oct/12/burma-muslims-rohingya-saudi-prisons?utm_source=chatgpt.com.

Oman Observer (2025, June 5) Hajj: Pilgrims pray at MountbArafat in Hajj apex. Available at: https://www.omanobserver.om/article/1171580/world/region/hajj-pilgrims-pray-at-mount-arafat-in-hajj-apex