SIDRATULMUNTAHA'S SURPRISE VISIT

SIDRATULMUNTAHA'S SURPRISE VISIT

DURING performing Umra, I often wandered around the bazaars near Al-Masjid Al-Haram while waiting for Maghrib prayer. I would stop from one shop to another to check out the robes, then the handbags, bead decorations, watches and accessories. In short, everything was interesting.

     Once tired of wandering around, I entered the mosque through the Bab al-Salam (Gate of Peace), and started looking for my mother. Seeing upon where she was, I went straight there. The pilgrims, who were walking to and fro, fascinated me. I was observing everything, from their clothes, their white prayer veil, and right down to the way they walked.

     "Isshh... you're always looking at people. Why don't you read the Quran instead," my mother said, offering me the holy book.

     I intentionally ignored her. Perhaps I was getting bored having to sit down for so long. I held the Quran and then placed it on the prayer mat. Then I flipped through each page but I couldn't really read a single thing as my attention was on the Kaaba.

     "Would it be really great if I could the tawaf? But I have no one to accompany me," I mumbled to myself.

     "What are you mumbling about?" mother turned upon hearing my woeful sigh. "If you really want to... why not just go?" mother said, telling me to tawaf on my own.

     "No way! There are too many people. Let's go mum," I tried pleading. But mother didn't replied; instead she threw me a sharp glance. I was a little disappointed.

     "Assalamualaikum ya Hajjah!" I suddenly heard a pilgrim to my left calling out a greeting. I didn't even know where she had come from.

     "Waalaikumussalam," I replied with a broad smile. Then I looked again at the Kaaba. My heart kept urging me to do the tawaf. It was while that feeling were raging inside me that I felt a nudge on my left thigh.

     I turned and saw an Arab lady who uttered a single word to me: "Tawaf?"

     I looked at her face. She smiled, as if she already knew what was playing in my mind. Her smile was so captivating. I had never seen such a sweet smile, nor a woman as beautiful as her, ever in my life. Her nose was high and sharp, her skin so fair until you could see the fine veins on her cheeks, her eyes were round and shiny, with eyebrows that were beautifully curved.

     "You mean tawaf?" I asked, using my finger to draw a circle. The woman nodded.

     "Can you speak English?" I continued. The woman only shook her head. So, to make it easier to communicate, each time I spoke, I used sign language. She in turn replied in Arabic, follow with sign language too. She offered her had and I grabbed it tight.

     "Eh, it's so cold!" I let out a yell and spontaneously let got of her hand. She only smiled as if she knew what I was thinking. Then she offered me her arm and made a sign for me to hold it. I did as instructed. We walked side by side.

     When we arrived at the starting line of the tawaf and after having made our niyyah, we performed sunat rituals. As soon as I took my first steps, I could no longer see all those pilgrims who were circling the Kaaba. In front of my eyes was just a vast lane, and it seemed like we were the only two people doing the tawaf.

     It was too easy... there was no chance of banging or bumping against anybody. After completing our tawaf, we walked together to fetch mother. I really wanted to know her name, but didn't get the chance to ask.

     "Never mind, maybe after I've done my prayers I can ask," I whispered, to appease myself. After Maghrib prayer, she continued with sunat prayers and then read the Quran. There was no chance at all for me to her. I touched mother's arm.

     "Mother, that's the friend who did the tawaf with me earlier," I told my mother. She turned to look at the woman I was referring to.

     "She's really pretty. How did you know her?" mother asked.

     "I met her here. She came and immediately sat next to me," I explained to her.

     "What's her name?" mother asked again.

     "I don't know. I haven't asked," I replied, simply.

     The call for the 'Isya prayer resounded, I got up and I saw that the woman did the same while adjusting her robe. It was at that point that I took the opportunity to introduce myself and ask for her name. She didn't say anything, but just smiled. Using sign language, she asked me to be patient.

     "Salat, salat," was only her answer. I understood that she wanted me to perform 'Isya prayer and stop talking. Each time she stopped speaking, the smile was never far from her lips. Immediately, I performed 'Isya prayer. When I was giving salam, I could feel her right thigh pressing against my left thigh. But when I turned to the left for the second salam, she was no longer there.

     I quickly stood up turning my head every which way, looking for her. I caught sight of her walking away briskly in the midst of the other pilgrims. Even though it was from the back, I knew it was her.

     At Zuhr, the next day, I waited at the same place where we were at the day before. But she never materialised. Even when 'Asr came, she was nowhere to be seen. I was so disappointed. However, deep in my heart I prayed that Allah would bring us together again.

     "Never mind... I'll just wait. Maybe she'll come for Maghrib," I said, appeasing myself.

     I took off my prayer veil. "Mother, I'm going out for a bit," I told her.

     I left mother at the mosque, and went wandering from one shop to another to rid my sense of boredom. When it was almost Maghrib, I returned to where I had left my mother. I sat next to her. Suddenly I felt a sudden breeze coming from my left. Spontaneously I turned around. Ya Allah... she was seated next to me, a smile on her face.

     "Tawaf?" she asked. I returned her words with a smile and got up to follow her.

     "Ana Diana..." I showed the name tag hanging from my neck that had been given to me by the agency.

     "Diana," she said, and then smiled.

     "Ente?" I asked her back. That was the only Arabic word I know. Again, she smiled. While quickening her pace, she replied: "Sidratrulmuntaha."

     "What? The seventh sky?" the words suddenly came out of my mouth in Malay. Then I repeated the name again and again in shock while pointing to the sky. Sidratulmuntaha only continued to smile while nodding her head.

     "Where are you from?" Again, I accidentally posed the question in Malay. Sidratulmuntaha only raised her shoulders, to show that she did not understand my question.

     Just like the day before, the tawaf went smoothly despite the fact that it was crowded with pilgrims. My path was spacious and easy. The thing that happened yesterday happened again. When I turned to my left to give my salam, Sidratulmuntaha was far away. Like a storm she came, and disappeared like one too.

     For the next seven days in Mecca, Sidratulmuntaha would accompany me every day between the hours of Maghrib and 'Isya. On the eighth night while waiting for the 'Isya prayer, I asked a pilgrim from my group, a religious teacher from Kelantan who was well versed in Arabic, to come with me and meet the woman.

     I passed a piece of paper to Sidratulmuntaha asking for her address. She took the piece of paper and the pen that I offered and immediately wrote her name. Her arabic script was beautiful, just like khat writing. Spell out, it really did sound like Sidratulmuntaha.

     "Ustazah, can you ask her where she lives and her address?" The ustazah posed the question to the woman as I had requested but in Arabic. Sidratulmuntaha smiled.

     "I don't live anywhere. I don't have an address," she replied, also in Arabic.

     "Ustazah, please tell her that I might want to write to her sometime," I continued, looking at the ustazah. Sidratulmuntaha shook her head.

     "We shall meet again if we're still around," she said.

     Her answer bewildered me. She clasped my hands tightly before asking me to take leave. She hugged me, and I could smell the sweetness of her perfume wafting as the smell was simply enchanting. I followed her departure with a forlorn look. Without realising it, tears rolled down my cheeks, such melancholy. My mother, who was sitting next to me, was dazed.

     Once she was out of my sight, I looked again and again at the writing of her name. Then, I tucked the piece of paper away carefully in the pocket of my handbag.

     Three days later, after Fajr prayer, I started packing, ready to depart for Jeddah Airport. The other members of the group were also getting ready to leave. My mind kept thinking of Sidratulmuntaha.

     Less than an hour in the air, I remembered the piece of paper with Sidratulmuntaha's name in my bag. I took the paper, which I had folded as big as a RM2 note, out from my bag. I opened it slowly.

     "Ehh... where is it?" I said, repeatedly turning the paper in my hand. Blank! The writing was no longer there. I turned my handbag upside down on my lap. Everything, my hairbrush, lipstick, and powder came tumbling out.

     "What's wrong with you, Ana?" mother asked when she saw me frantically looking through my things, just like a cat about to give birth.

     "The paper with Sidratulmuntaha's name written on it... It's here but the writing has disappeared," I said, showing my mother the paper. Mother took it and started examining it.

     "Are you sure this is the paper? Maybe you misplaced it?"

     "No, mother. That's the piece of paper that I put into my bag. I would know; I even remember how I had folded it," I said again.

     I took the piece of paper from mother's hand. Then I examined it again; there was no trace of the writing. It just was a blank piece of paper.

     When I arrived in Malaysia, my mind went blank. For several days I was a mess, constantly thinking of the woman. Even though it had been some time, Sidratulmuntaha constantly plagued my thoughts.

     Who was Sidratulmuntaha? I didn't know. But I did know that throughout the time I was with her, she had a smile unlike nothing I had ever smelt before. I will always remember her smile until the day I die!

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