I was performing ghusl, when it happened. I was preparing for Jumma in a land far far away from the Haram. Ghusl is also performed at death… was this my ghusl or was I performing it for those thousands of faceless, nameless Muslim men, women and children floating in the Mediterranean or lying unclothed and unclaimed in the desert of the Levant?
There is a storm; the tall buildings looking down at the House of Allah are shrouded in dust. Suddenly and surely a slow arc forms over the new Haram, recently constructed in Mecca. There is a crash of steel meeting mortar. The mangled steel claws of a giant crane slash into the heart of the Haram and ………the pieces of people are scattered like the petals of red poppies over the sacred floor of the Mataf. The Kaaba stands silent in black in mourning not only for those who lie around it now their lifeblood streaming from them onto the floor of the mataf but those who lay around it many years ago in the siege of the Haram, and for those who might still be hopeful of finding asylum in “the land of the infidel” as they clutch the broken pieces of what was once a boat and hopefully look for the shore.
The mataf of the Kaaba where Prophets have walked where the mercy of mankind stepped in humility, love and reverence, holds the bleeding, the crying and dead all in its loving embrace. Damaged and hurt it still receives the pilgrims whose hopes and dreams of Hajj have been shattered or ended abruptly.
Those who have not cried for the plight of the people of The Levant ransacked by hordes similar to the Mongols, whose hearts have not melted by the sight of small sneakers on little feet that are in rigor mortis, will cry now with the bleeding gash on the heart of the Haram.
……………And I unbeknownst to myself at that time, inspired by the Khutbah on Hajj, was bowing my head in Jumma Salah praying fervently for a Hajj e Mabroor for me soon.
May Allah forgive us for our sins and shortcomings which are many and need His forgiveness……