Ayesha Ashraf Jangda
Just yesterday I was recalling with a friend my memories of my Hajj, since that time of the year is coming around again. I was remembering that despite being told not to attempt kissing the black stone (Hajr’ Aswad) because of rush, I really wanted to.
So on the last day of my journey in Makkah, I made the attempt. Alhamdulillah, I was lucky to get the chance of kissing it; however, once it was done, due to me short height (only 4 11”), I was stuck in the push and force of people attempting to take my place. I was forced down, with people taller than me pushing me, and I was suffocated. I could not breathe. I was shouting, but due to hustle and bustle of the crowd making the attempt to come near the Hajr’ Aswad, no one could hear me and make way for me. I was making Duas in between the attempts to pull myself out for getting air to breath. It was like struggling for life. And then a stranger came and pulled me out – I was out of the spiral wave and could breathe again. I do not know who he was, as I did not see the face of the stranger, who helped me. A very kind stranger, whom I now call an angel.
My mum and dad still do not know that I made the attempt. Now, after reading this, they will. Apologies abba and mummy, but I really wanted to do it, since I had always kissed the Hajr’ Aswad on my every Umra and did not want to miss doing it this time around.