It was past 10 pm. I was expecting a serene, zen like entry but no, it was not. It was like entering an American city, one that borders Mexico, big bazaars, malls. bowling alleys, auto repair shops. the contrast was glaring, a tiny piece of the first world and a big portion of the third world. As you get nearer to the centre, the din and the dust was overwhelming. there were so many constructions going on. The mammoth ingersol rand compressors were creating the decibels.
Zam Zam Hotel was an Oasis.
Past midnight the group gathered at the entrance to the Masjidil Haram. Ahmad Sulaiman, the Indonesian guide became the shepherd. I went through the motion. But, I could not connect.
There was a tinge of dissapointment in me. I did not expect KLCC right at the gates of MasjidilHaram. Starbucks, Mothercare, Next, and big supermarketsyou name it. The din was on the high side. . I was staring at the Bait minus the emotion and devotion. How could I find solace and connect with Him.
As the night drew to a close, i sat in the masjid. The Sanctuary, He promised. This is the Mother of all cities, He says. Mother of ALL CITIES. CITIES. CITY. MECCA. The Mecca.
I began my reconciliation. I have to find Him. He is everywhere. I have to devote myself to Him. Irrespective of Coordinates, the din, the distractions. Timeless. It has to be me and Him. Even if i were in Vegas i have to find and connect with Him, i reasoned out.
Rightfully so, the Bait is just a landmark, a sign, a symbol. Things were falling into places. I prostrated. Read the Book, Prostrated, read, prostrated. I lost count. My legs went numb.
By the time it ended it was past 3 am. I was knackered but I could sense that I was on track.