It all seems banal and benign enough. I’ve to walk briskly and run at two stretches, back and forth seven times, 420 metres each time, for a total distance of roughly three km. Three km. I’ve been running 10 km every evening back home. This is going to be a cakewalk.
The lady ran. Her baby cried, and cried incessantly. He’s thirsty. Water, where’s water. She must find water for the infant Ismail. The blazing sun and the burning sand conspired as the smell of death overwhelmed any prospect of water. Oh God, is this Your test? Gripped by panic and fear, she ran frantically back and forth, in search of water.
I walked and trotted and walked, hardly ruffled. The first leg was a breeze. But as I pressed on through the throng, my fertile mind began to conjure up visions and questions. Images of the stricken lady appeared in flashes, panic and fear in her eyes! How could I not feel for her. What if it’s my wife and my baby? Or my mother and the infant me? What's supposed to be a routine reenactment of the lady's frantic runs turned into a poignant walk of poetic proportions. My proud 10 km run is absolutely, utterly poor and pointless compared to the lady’s flailing run. God, this is all so humbling. After the third turn, the man and the wall in me simply cracked and caved in. I broke, choked and….
The lady ran. Her baby cried, and cried incessantly. He’s thirsty. Water, where’s water. She must find water for the infant Ismail. The blazing sun and the burning sand conspired as the smell of death overwhelmed any prospect of water. Oh God, is this Your test? Gripped by panic and fear, she ran frantically back and forth, in search of water.
I walked and trotted and walked, hardly ruffled. The first leg was a breeze. But as I pressed on through the throng, my fertile mind began to conjure up visions and questions. Images of the stricken lady appeared in flashes, panic and fear in her eyes! How could I not feel for her. What if it’s my wife and my baby? Or my mother and the infant me? What's supposed to be a routine reenactment of the lady's frantic runs turned into a poignant walk of poetic proportions. My proud 10 km run is absolutely, utterly poor and pointless compared to the lady’s flailing run. God, this is all so humbling. After the third turn, the man and the wall in me simply cracked and caved in. I broke, choked and….
Back from Hajj. Still thinking of the sai'e. Just can't get over it.
