AFTER ASR AT PILLAR 251

AFTER ASR AT PILLAR 251

OHHH... it's so hard for me to complete salat tasbih. I'd already perform the salat Asr, sunat taubat and hajat but this one... my right knee really couldn't stand the pain anymore. I'd suffered for a year but today, the pain seemed to be throbbing more than usual and felt like it was spreading.

     With all the strength that I could muster, I continued with the prayers even though I felt like crying. When I thought it was the only chance to do my prayers at the Prophet's mosque in Medina, before performing my Hajj in just a few days, I manage to strengthen my shaky spirit once again.

     For so long, I dreamt of praying in this mosque, and now since Allah had given me the chance, I must carry it out with the utmost devotion, regardless of the pain. From five minutes to 10, then 20, 30, and from 50 tasbih increasing to 100, 200, 300, and finally, I manage to complete the prayers after all, although it did take me almost 50 minutes.

     "Oh Allah," I sighed as soon as I had completed giving the second salam. Immediately, I stretched out my painful leg and after reading a short du'a, I sighed in pain, again. I parted my sarong a little and started to massage my foot, from the toes right up to my thigh. Then I slowly dragged myself towards a pillar on which to lean against.

     The number 251 was marked on that pillar. I could see some air conditioning vents at the bottom. Ahhh... it felt so good to have the cool air blowing in. I continued to massage my painful knee. I put my white prayer cap aside.

     "Oh Allah, please heal my painful leg. I really can't stand the pain any longer," I prayed. I could barely contain the tears. I had intended to perform as many prayers as I could here. But, how could I concentrate with my prayers if my legs were hurting so much?

     "Assalamualaikum," somebody greeted me. I looked up and responded to his greeting. In front of me was an Arab man clad in yellow. The man, who looked to be in his 50s, had partially bald head and rosy skin.

     "What's wrong?" he asked, lifting his hands and pointed at my legs with his index finger.

     I just frowned and massaged my knee repeatedly, saying the takbir and made a gesture that my leg was hurting and the difficulty to perform my prayers. It was the only way we could communicate as I couldn't speak a word of Arab and he knew no Malay.

     He smiled and signalled me to wait, while he took out his wallet from his pants. He took out a strip of tablets and offered me one. From his gesture, he asked me to take the pill. I thanked him after taking the pill.

     I looked at the pill closely. It's golden in colour, something which I had not seen before. But, just as I was about to put it into my mouth, I suddenly remembered that I needed water to gulp it down with. Without it, the pill would probably get stuck in my throat. However, as I lifted my head to search for the Zamzam water barrel in the mosque, I saw the man in yellow stood right before me, holding a glass of water. I was surprised and started to feel rather anxious.

     How did he know what I was thinking? And another thing, how could he manage to get me a cup of Zamzam water, in five seconds, when the nearest barrel is almost 40 meters away from pillar 251?

     All the questions that were whirling in my mind ceased momentarily when the man, with a warm smile, offered me a drink of water and asked me to swallow the pill that he had given me. All the while, he remained standing before me.

     I swallowed the pill and then drank Zamzam water, before shaking hands with the man to show my gratitude. Then, I placed the cup on the floor and turned to look at my painful leg. Just as I was about to massage my knee, the thought crossed my mind that if the tablet is effective, where could I get more?

     I turned again to the front to ask the man, but he had gone. Looking to my left and then right, I still could not spot him anywhere.

     The only people around were a handful of pilgrims learning against the pillars or lying down on the floor of the mosque, perhaps tired or were doing their zikr while waiting for Maghrib prayers. The others had left the mosque since Asr.

     I look a glance towards the door, but saw that it was deserted. There was no sign at all of the man in yellow. I scratched my head, perplexed, thinking how could it be possible that the man could just disappear without a trace within seconds. It's impossible that I could miss him because there was not a single person around who was standing in the mosque.

     "Oh All-Mighty Allah," the words escaped from my mouth. At that moment, I truly felt the magnitude of Allah's greatness. Who was the man that gave me the medicine a while ago? Like a ghost, he appeared and disappeared.

     After resting awhile, I went back to the hotel, located not far from the mosque. Throughout the walk, my mind continued to wonder about the identity of the man in yellow. Back at the hotel, I recounted the story to my wife, Shapura Mohd. Kahar.

     "It's understood... we are in the Holy Land after all," she reassured me.

     The next day, as soon as I woke up, I felt something was different. My foot was no longer in pain. Unable to believe it, I stood up, then sat down, squatted and walked to test it. It was true - the pain on my knee was healed!

     "Pura!" I called out my wife.

     "My knee is healed!" I cried out to her in happiness. At the time that I was expressing my gratitude to Allah, I also prayed that I may get the chance to meet with the main in yellow again. Later that evening, I went to the Prophet's Mosque to do my prayers, and then continued on with the salat sunat taubhat, hajat and tasbih. Then I learnt against pillar 251.

     However, I returned home disappointed. The man never came. Thank Allah, since that day my knee had fully healed... until today.

N / F : FROM "THE BEST COLLECTIONS OF STORIES FROM MECCA", BY MASTIKA.