Mindful journeys through memories of faith, reflection, and awakening.
Alhamdulillah, Hajj 1446H (2025) has come to a close, and with it, millions of hearts return from the sacred journey forever changed. Over 1.67 million pilgrims from across the globe answered the divine call this year, each carrying hopes, prayers, and stories only they can tell. Saudi Arabia officially declared the pilgrimage a success, as pilgrims safely moved through every stage — from Mina on the Day of Tarwiyah to Arafat, Muzdalifah, and back to the blessed Masjid al-Haram.
Behind the scenes, the effort was monumental. With over 94,000 staff and 3,000 volunteers, the holy sites pulsed with care and coordination. New technologies, like the upgraded Nusuk card and its integration with apps like Tawakkalna, played a vital role in guiding pilgrims and keeping them safe, especially in the summer heat and dense crowds. These innovations helped manage movements and ease the journey — but what truly made it smooth was the patience, discipline, and unity of the pilgrims themselves.
Hajj is more than just rituals — it’s surrender, struggle, and serenity all woven into a few unforgettable days. As the pilgrims returned home with tired feet but full hearts, they carried not just memories but a renewed sense of purpose and closeness to Allah (SWT). May He accept everyone’s Hajj, forgive our shortcomings, and invite us again.
Hajj is a deeply personal journey — no two experiences are ever the same. Team Mindful reflects on moments from Hajj 2025—through the eyes of pilgrims who share glimpses that humbled them, challenged them, and reminded them of Allah’s immense mercy at every step.
ZAKA — The Silent Servers
By Fatima Waleed
This journey was not something we earned.
It was not something we planned.
It was something we were invited to.
And through every moment, one quiet truth was evident:
we were held.
Held by the unseen hands of the Zaka family.
They gave not from what was left over,
but from the depths of their hearts.
Their kindness didn’t ask for thanks.
Their service didn’t seek to be seen.
They moved through long nights and relentless days with a peace that only comes from love.
Not once did they let their fatigue reach us.
Not once did they make us feel like we were being done a favor.
We were simply… cared for.
As though we were their own.
As though we mattered.
And in their care, we remembered how mercy feels.
Medina — Where Love Lives
You do not enter Medina.
You return to it.
Like a child who wanders far and finally finds his way back to the warm chest of his mother.
Medina doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t demand answers.
It simply embraces you.
Every stone here holds memory.
Every breeze carries praise.
Every breath feels lighter, fuller, purer.
The city whispers, “He is here.”
And something inside you breaks open — not from pain, but from recognition.
The Beloved. For whom He Created the entire universe-is here.
We stood where he walked.
We prayed where he wept.
We placed our hearts where his heart once beat — for us.
And suddenly, all the noise of our lives quieted.
The shame.
The sin.
The stories we carried.
All of it fell to the ground —
and we wept.
Not because we were sad.
But because we were seen.
And loved still. (Recite Darood Sharif)
From Medina to Makkah — Carried by Mercy
As we moved toward Makkah, we weren’t just traveling across land.
We were journeying deeper into the heart.
Each mile stripped away something we didn’t need.
Each moment became a mirror.
And in those reflections, we saw who we were—
and who we were always meant to be.
Every moment was a love affair.
Each movement — a whispered invitation from the Divine.
Each breath — a gift we never noticed before.
Barakah was everywhere.
In the dust that clung to our feet.
In the tears that refused to stop.
In the smiles of strangers who felt like family.
We were starving for this.
And He fed us, endlessly.
Like a fountain that knew no end.
And we, undeserving…
were loved into fullness.
Sacred Earth, Living Testimony
We stood where Prophets stood.
Where angels descended.
Where revelations shook mountains.
And we kept asking ourselves:
How are we here?
Who are we — with our sins and our forgetfulness?
Who are we — to see these things with our own eyes?
But the earth answered:
“You were called.”
We wept in the cave Hira that held light.
We trembled at the stone at Ghar Saur that hid the Prophet.
We prayed at Araafaat where hearts broken were rebuilt.
And it was as if the land itself whispered to our shame:
“You are not here because you are worthy.
You are here because you are loved.”
Why Us?
We carried this question like a stone in our chest:
Why us?
And we received no words —
only a feeling so overwhelming,
it spilled from our eyes in silence.
Because we know the truth.
We have done nothing to deserve this.
We ran, and still… He reached for us.
We forgot, and still… He remembered us.
We failed, again and again…
and still, He called our names.
No punishment.
No lecture.
Just mercy.
Just love.
And that is why we cried.
Because we knew —
He loves us anyway.
So Love Him. And Have No Fear.
If you are broken — go.
If you are lost — go.
If you are drowning in shame — go.
Not because you are ready.
But because He is waiting.
He does not love you ‘if.’
He does not love you ‘when.’
He loves you. Now. Still. Always.
So return to Him.
Even with trembling steps.
Even with tear-filled eyes.
Because it is not perfection that brings you near —
it is love.
And love… is why you are here.
The journey to Muzdalifah
By Meezan Fahd
The most memorable experience of Hajj was the journey to Muzdalifah. Beneath a vast, unending sky, with no tents to shield us and no walls to divide us, millions lay upon the bare earth — shoulder to shoulder, status and titles dissolving into dust. In that moment, it was clear: every soul stood equal before its Creator.
I gathered stones for Rami, each pebble a silent vow to cast away what we must reject — pride, envy, ego.
In the deep stillness of that night, I found serenity. Muzdalifah whispered a timeless truth: all things fade, but our bond with Allah remains. And in that silence, I heard the loudest prayers.
The Day of Arafat
By Misbah Momin
Labayk Allahumma Labayk — here I come, my Lord, a day like none…
No day to Allah shines more bright,
Than Arafat’s pure, blessed light.
He descends from Heaven’s lowest gate,
To speak of those who humbly wait.
No day releases souls more free,
From hell’s harsh grasp than Arafat’s plea.
On this day, near to earth He draws,
Revealing mercy without pause.
With pride He speaks to angels high,
“Behold My servants, lifted high!
What is the wish that moves their cries,
Beneath these vast and endless skies?”
On this day, Allah’s perfect grace,
Completed faith for all His race.
His gift of truth, pure and bright,
Guides His servants toward the light.
They come disheveled, dusted, worn,
From every hill and pass they’re borne.
He sees their hearts, so full of plea,
Seeking boundless mercy, free.
Though punishment they do not see,
Yet saved from Hellfire they shall be.
No day sees more souls freed from flame,
Than this day crowned with mercy’s name.
From dawn’s first light to evening’s glow,
Each breath, each moment seems to know.
A lifetime’s worth in seconds spun,
Forgiveness shining beneath the sun.
With eyes that weep and hearts that bend,
No fear to stand and be condemned.
We seek His love that knows no end,
Hands raised high, our spirits bare,
We find His mercy everywhere.
From east to west, from near and far,
We gather here beneath one star.
In white we stand, all ranks erased,
By love and mercy interlaced.
The skies record our whispered plea,
As angels watch with reverent glee.
They bear our names, our hopes, our cries,
Inscribed above the endless skies.
And here once stood our Prophet (SAW) dear,
Upon the Mountain of Mercy near,
Who gave his final words so clear —
A farewell voice, a call to right,
That echoes still in hearts tonight.
The world fades out, and He draws near,
No soul untouched, no heart unclear.
For in this hour, His presence known,
We stand, yet feel we’re not alone.
But when the time to journey calls,
We leave Arafat as mercy falls.
Souls forgiven, prayers arranged,
Hearts laid bare and lives exchanged.
What lingers there, no more to claim—
A soul reborn, forever changed.
We carry back what can’t be seen —
A healed heart, washed and made serene.
A light within, a soul set free,
A taste of how pure life can be.
So let us go — from Home to home,
And taste the grace where spirits roam.
A standing ovation we raise above,
To the Lord of the Worlds, in awe and love.
A salute to the Prophet (SAW), pure and true,
Who begged for mercy for me and you.
May we guard this gift till the end of days,
And walk Arafat’s path in endless praise.
For those who yearn, whose hearts still strive,
May Ar-Rahman call them while they’re alive —
As honored guests near mercy’s door,
At Arafah, each year, forevermore.
And as we whisper one last say,
“Alastu birabbikum?” — “Balā Shahidnā,” we pray.
Yes, You are the Lord — we do confess,
Now guide us home in righteousness.
The Ascent to Ghar-e-Hira: A Journey Etched in the Heart
By Momin Qamar
When the Zaka Group announced a visit to the sacred mountain of Ghar-e-Hira, 150 of us eagerly prepared to climb the 634-metre ascent. Our hearts brimmed with excitement and silent prayers, each step driven by a longing to reach the very spot where our beloved Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) used to worship in solitude — even before his (PBUH) prophethood.
As we approached the mountain, its unique shape caught our attention — rising like the hump of a camel against the sky. With heartfelt anticipation, we began our climb. Remarkably, with every step, it felt as though an invisible force was gently lifting us upward.
I was deeply moved by the generosity and helping hand of fellow group members — a true embodiment of the spirit of brotherhood. Especially my loving daughter, who never left my hand and was my greatest support throughout the climb.
Partway up, a kind soul offered cold dates (rutab) to the hikers — a simple but powerful gesture that replenished our energy and warmed our hearts. Every step reminded us of the Prophet’s (PBUH) own journey up this very path, alone, seeking truth, day after day. That thought alone gave strength to our tired legs.
As we climbed, my mind drifted back 1,400 years, and tears welled in my eyes as I imagined the Prophet (PBUH) in the quiet of that cave — lost in devotion and reflection — and his (PBUH) beloved wife, Hazrat Khadija (RA), lovingly climbing the same harsh path to bring him (PBUH) food and comfort. In one profound incident, Angel Jibreel (AS) informed the Prophet (PBUH) of her arrival and instructed him (PBUH) to convey Allah’s Salam to her — an honour beyond measure. It’s not just the stories that touch the soul, but the reality of a woman who believed in her husband before the world did, who supported him (PBUH) without hesitation, and who became the first to embrace Islam. That memory, revived so vividly on this path, deepened the sacredness of every step.
When we finally reached the top, we were rewarded with a breathtaking, bird’s-eye view of Makkah — a sight that stirred awe and gratitude in every soul. The cave itself is small and narrow, just large enough for two people to pray shoulder to shoulder. Yet, its significance is vast beyond words: it is the place where the Angel Jibreel first descended and commanded our Prophet (PBUH), “Read!” — the beginning of the revelation of the Qur’an:
“Read in the name of your Lord who created…”
(Surah Al-‘Alaq, 96:1)
Each of us offered two rak‘ahs of nafl prayer in the cave — a deeply personal moment of connection, gratitude, and humility. We thanked Allah Almighty for His countless blessings and for guiding us to Islam and the Noble Qur’an through His final Messenger, Hazrat Muhammad (PBUH).
The experience of Ghar-e-Hira is etched in our hearts for life. It was more than a climb — it was a spiritual awakening. May Allah accept the Hajj and efforts of every pilgrim — now and always. Ameen.
We extend our heartfelt thanks to the Zaka Group for their exceptional Hajj arrangements and thoughtful care throughout the journey. May Allah grant them the tawfiq to continue guiding and serving pilgrims on the sacred journeys of Hajj and Umrah each year — and for generations to come, InshaAllah.
The Ihram
by Waleed Ahmad Zaman
The diversity Allah divided us into ends in the Ihram. The Sufi-Salafi, Sunni-Shia debates end in the Ihram. National boundaries, races, and flags dissolve into the sea of white. All differences are consumed and end in the Ihram.
Past, present, and future are replaced by the primordial state as we re-enter Fitrah. All suffering and delusion end in the Ihram. Ibrahim (AS), Ismail (AS), and the presence of all the Prophets flood our
being. Emptiness and disillusionment end in the Ihram.
Sayyidna Muhammad (SAW), dearer to us than our souls and parents, in whose radiant presence our worldliness and hypocrisy evaporate – it all ends in the Ihram. As we gathered before this world, so we are gathered again. The illusion of separation from the Beloved ends in the Ihram.
God was always there, nearer than our own souls. The blind worship of distractions ends in the Ihram.
Hajj & Health
By Dr. Anushe Usman Khan
Hajj 2025 has been the most uplifting and sublime experience of my life. I’m profoundly grateful to have shared this journey with a beautiful group of people who supported each other every step of the way — physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Together, we witnessed each other’s highs and lows, carried each other through challenges, and celebrated moments of peace and prayer that will stay with us forever.
However, as a doctor, I realised that many were not well-prepared for the physical and health challenges of this honourable ordeal. Respiratory issues like allergies and sore throats are almost inevitable, so it’s wise to avoid very cold water. Apart from wearing the Ihram, wearing a mask as much as possible helps greatly. Carry essential antibiotics for throat and gut infections in case of diarrhoea. Pain relievers are a must, and waterproof bandages come in handy. Electrolytes are a lifesaver — they help with dehydration even when diarrhoea isn’t an issue.
Blister patches are also essential. Many people develop blisters and don’t know how to manage them. I saw severe blisters that were poked with needles and later became infected — truly disastrous. For women, carrying hormonal medication is crucial to avoid unexpected issues during this sacred journey.
These are just some simple health guidelines I wish I could share more widely to help people have a safer, healthier Hajj. Hajj is the most strenuous — and thus the most rewarding — act of worship. May Allah make it easy for everyone and accept our ibadah. We are truly humbled to have been granted the chance to perform Hajj in 2025.
A Journey of a Lifetime: Humbled, Grateful, Renewed
By: Fahd Mukhtar
I’m deeply grateful that Allah invited me to Hajj much earlier than I had ever planned or imagined. It turned out to be one of the most transformative experiences of my life.
The pilgrimage was rich with lessons at every step. Wearing the Ihram reminded me of the beauty of simplicity and the strength found in unity. Mina whispered patience and the warmth of brotherhood into my heart. Arafah left me silent and awestruck as I stood by Jabal al-Rahmah, reflecting on where our story began and where we will gather again. Beneath the vast night sky of Muzdalifah, I felt stripped of ego and clothed instead in humility, patience, and resilience like never before. Hiking to Cave Hira with family and friends and standing where the first verse of the Qur’an was revealed was a profound privilege that filled me with awe and deep reflection.
I also shaved my head for the first time since birth—a rite I hadn’t given much thought to, but when the moment came, it was deeply meaningful, leaving me feeling like a newborn: renewed, refreshed, and inspired.
A special thank you to my loving parents for nurturing in us a deep connection with Allah and His Messenger (SAW). I’m especially grateful to my wife, my in-laws, and my close friends—Fatima, Waleed, and Ahmad Zaka—for their support, wisdom, and companionship, which made this experience even more meaningful.
This entire experience has left me humbled, grateful, and in awe.
The Sa’ee – A Journey of Faith and Mercy
By Fatima Waleed
Beneath the searing breath of the desert sun,
where the earth burns like an open furnace,
A mother stands alone
cradling the weight of both her child and her faith.
No shade to shield her.
No food to sustain her.
No water to soothe her lips or her heart.
Only the shimmering illusions of mirages
stretching endlessly across a lifeless horizon.
But illusions do not quench thirst.
They do not calm a baby’s cry.
Her child, little Ismail
frail, fevered, and famished
whimpers beneath the fire of the sky,
His tiny body resting on sand hot enough to blister the flesh.
He is too weak to move, too dry to weep.
And around him
nothing but silence…
and the threat of wild, lurking dangers.
What mother could bear such a sight?
Yet she does not collapse in despair.
She runs.
She runs not from fear, but toward hope.
From Safa to Marwa, and back again.
Seven times.
A mother’s desperate stride between the hills becomes an eternal act of worship.
With every step, her lips whisper supplications; her heart clings to trust.
She does not find water.
She finds something greater—faith that does not waver.
The illusions mock her,
rising and vanishing with each hopeful glance.
Still, she runs.
Still, she prays.
Even as her ears echo with the cries of her son,
Even as she loses sight of him between the hills,
Even as her heart breaks a little more with each passing round.
Until on the seventh
mercy descends.
With the gentlest touch of Gibrael’s wing,
The earth splits where Ismail struck his tiny heel.
And from that place of sorrow,
a miracle bursts forth:
Water
sweet, living, divine
gushes from the barren ground.
Not a drop
not a stream
but a flood of mercy.
It pours, relentless and pure,
threatening to swallow even the desert itself.
And the mother, calls out: “Zamzam!”
Stay!
Flow, but stay
be a mercy, not a flood.
And so it remains
Zamzam
water of faith, of longing, of answered prayer.
But this is not just her story.
For within every soul lives that baby Ismail
parched, silent, desperate for divine sustenance.
And within every heart, there must rise a Hajrah
Running between the hills of uncertainty and surrender,
Searching not for worldly relief, but for the water of nearness to Him.
O Seeker,
May you run with the same hope,
Cry with the same desperation,
And pray with the same unwavering belief.
Until the moment comes
when from the driest place within you,
A spring breaks forth.
And from that spring,
you drink
Forever quenched by the Mercy that has always been watching…
Always near.
