My childhood in India was short-lived; I was merely nine years old when we received the news that we would be reuniting with our father in Makkah. Makkath Al Mukarrama, a name revered as the birthplace of the beloved Prophet(s.aw), held a special place in my heart, a destination where pilgrims from all around the world gathered. The mere thought of going there was breathtaking, and my young heart was filled with excitement at the prospect of witnessing this awe-inspiring place firsthand. The news of our impending journey thrilled all of us, and together, we made thorough preparations, eagerly anticipating the adventures that lay ahead.
Our journey commenced on an Eid day of 1987 correspondingly 1407AH, marking the end of Ramadan when the days of fasting had just come to a close. Dressed in our best attire, we hired a specialized jeep from 'Eliat' to take us directly to Thodannur, my mother's homeland. At the Thodannur Big Mosque, we offered the Eid prayer, and for lunch, we enjoyed the delicious 'Parambath' gee rice and chicken curries, which were local specialties. At precisely three o'clock, a specialized jeep arrived to take us to the railway station. As we bid our final salaams to all those who stood in the lane on the edges of the paddy fields, little did we know that our journey would span eight long years—a chapter of life none of us could have foreseen. We never knew that this journey would last almost a decade, replacing the greenery and paddy fields with deserts and barren lands. Life has a way of unfolding in unexpected directions, revealing the treasures of destiny and the gems of knowledge and wisdom that accompany us along the way, forever altering our paths. Our Master (Rabb) has His plans that work on us to unfold a different story through us.
By nine o'clock that night, we arrived at Kasaragod and later at Vidyanagar, where we spent the night. The next morning, with excitement bubbling within us, I, Umma (my mother), my brother, little sisters, Pokerka, and Majeedka (my uncles) embarked on our journey to the railway station. My aunt also accompanied us, holding her little child, Sumayya, in her arms. She was just a babe at that time, adding to the warmth and love of our journey.
The following day, we reached Mangalore Station and boarded another train bound for Bombay, a meter gauge train en route via Hasan and Cheklashpur. The journey to Bombay was a delightful experience, offering us stunning sights and fascinating tunnels that captured my young imagination. Two days of train travel brought us to Bombay, where our thoughtful uncle, Pokerka had arranged a lodge for us. Here, we relished a special dinner of chicken fry and parota, savoring the flavors of the journey and the anticipation of what lay ahead.
In the early morning of the next day, on a Friday, we set out for Bombay Airport. Our flight was scheduled for noon, and we patiently waited for about three hours. As departure time approached, we bid farewell to Pokerka and Majeedka, exchanging heartfelt salaams, not knowing that the next eight years would unfold in ways we could not have imagined. The thrill of being inside an airplane for the first time added to the excitement of the journey. After a four-hour flight, we landed at King Abdul Azeez International Airport in Jeddah, marking the beginning of an extraordinary chapter in our lives.
