When The Airplane Shakes, Who Do You Call On?
Everywhere I looked was an unending black abyss.
The car bolted through the highway. It felt like we were floating as no sound other than the hum of the car engulfed the air — a sound that was once soothing became deafening. There were no trees to look at, no starry blue night to marvel at. Just a few lights ahead of the road, with the occasional truck that rumbled by.
Would you look at that — the consequences of our actions.
My family and I planned to depart to Saudi Arabia for Umrah (pilgrimage) at least before sunset, only we went right when it got dark.
It wasn’t on purpose. It’s just that I only got to pack my suitcase that afternoon, so I wonder how we were that optimistic. To be fair, this was a last-minute change of plans and it has been years since I’ve traveled (much less for Umrah). It seems I completely forgot the simple act of putting stuff you need in a bag. We still overpacked.
By the time we passed the border and tackled the deserted roads, it was 12 AM.
It was a primal instinct within me to fear the dark, the unknown. It’s like I was in a sensory deprivation chamber except nothing about the ride relaxed my thudding heart.
My thoughts took a turn to the worst-case scenario, my hands tightly holding onto my brother who lay on my lap asleep. What if a truck came too close? What if the roads slipped under the tires? What if…
No. I steadied my breathing. In. 8 seconds passed. Out. Repeat.
I glanced outside and all my progress went out the window. Each second brought another freight truck whizzing by, right beside me. There were way too many.
Silently, I’ve been making supplications (dua) throughout the ride. There was a whole section in the remembrance of God (dhikr or azkar) dedicated to when one is traveling.
Its mere existence already validated the unstruck fear I felt, looking outside, not knowing exactly if I’ll make it, but hoping. Trusting.
I faced the front. My parents were wide awake, and I could faintly hear their murmurs. They were trained for this, I thought. My dad had even more dangerous expeditions by himself in Indonesia, climbing up hillsides in the jungle, and riding by the edge of the cliff in the same conditions.
Still, they felt far away.
I searched my phone for Quran recitation. It was too dark for me to read so I opted to listen instead. There was this video I downloaded years ago of my favorite surah (chapter), with the most soothing recitation. After scrolling through my files frantically — I found it.
As soon as it played, the Quran recitation flooded my ears, and a wave of calmness flowed over me.
A smile was etched on my face as I read -
“He (Allah) said: “Fear not, verily I am with you both, hearing and seeing.” Surat Taha, verse 46
It was then that I fell asleep.
We reached Makkah and Medina safely, fulfilling our pilgrimage without much trouble, alhamdulillah.
Millions of Muslims around the world, regardless of race, age, and gender gathered at these holy places for one purpose. Under one God.
We were so blessed to be able to go for Umrah, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for many. Especially as it was during the month of Ramadhan, at the last ten nights, where a night more blessed than a thousand months of worship hid.
I remember vividly when we were walking our last few laps at the hills of Safa and Marwa, the sound of the Imam’s supplications during Qiyaam ul Layl prayer reverberating across the mosque. People standing near the walls with their palms up and tears trickling down their cheeks.
Even in the early morning, Makkah was alive.
I had quite some doubts about this trip (as I do with anything, really), mainly because it was right before exam season and I felt underprepared.
But if there was one thing I learned is to have tawakkul, to put trust in God. He is the All-Powerful, the All-Knowing, and the One behind all affairs. I know now that going for Umrah was essential, and how faith is behind any success.
I cherish each moment we spent there: praying amongst other Muslims in the middle of the night, following and listening to our favorite Quran reciters in real-time, and supplicating for anything and everything to God, knowing we were at the right place, right time.
As we bid our final (but insyaAllah, not last) goodbyes, I ponder in awe over how we stepped foot on the same land of the Prophet (peace be upon him) and his companions, all hundreds of years ago. While many things have changed, the truth is all the same.
I pray Allah keeps the Ummah steadfast and let us perform the pilgrimage at least once in our lifetime. Ameen.
Now, you would think after that first late night on the road we would’ve made sure to depart early this time.
But did we learn our lesson?
Nope. The night we left for Qatar was again, a dark and not-so-stormy night.
I felt the same worrying feelings, but this time, I was prepared.
Closing my eyes, headphones on — I listened to the Quran recitation of surah Taha.
When we finally pulled in at a nearby gas station, a crowd of people already filling the mosque for fajr prayer, I was relieved.
Those nights, I have never felt such immense bliss to see the sunrise. It truly is one of the greatest signs Allah has sent.
“And it is He Who gives life and causes death, and His is the alternation of night and day. Will you not then understand?” Surat Al-Muminoon, ayat 80
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