WE SHALL START WITH MECCA
Cloudless sky. The Sun. A mortal deity drunk with the passions of the Heaven, scorched all those beneath him. Everyday I have known him to boast his prowess, sending the subjects of the earth to their knees as the water leaves their bodies. Yet even this proud deity bowed humbly today. Today, the mortal deity joined the masses of the Earth to praise the King.
The wind caressed my white robes and my bald head. Ever since I shaved my head, I could feel the kisses of the wind and it had never been so gentle. Even the winds, so unpredictable, had decided to land his feet and whisper praises of the King. Like a grandfather who loves his grandson, the wind gave me one last kiss before flying again.
I clutched onto my grandmother's hand. Her warm and wrinkly hand secured mine. You know, you can tell a person by his hands. Grandma, was a woman born to hardship. Holding her hand was like taking a bath in milk and honey. Her hands were truly soft.
"Grandma?" I looked up.
I had always seen Grandma pray. She was always still, like a tree that has withstood 1000 years of violent winds yet remain humble and motherly to the world. But Grandma was praying and walking! Usually she cups her hands while she prays, but I knew she was praying. Whenever Grandma prayed, she had tears in her eyes, as if she had seen the world's misery. It was not an agonising misery, but a liberating kind of misery. Like someone who has witnessed the Truth.
Even Grandma had joined the masses.
"Where are we going, Grandma?" My neck strained from looking up. I was only a small boy.
"To service," Grandma replied with more tears in her eyes.
There are times when I would bombard Grandma with questions. I was after all, a curious little child. But I know that some questions can't be asked. For the only person who would know the answer is you. This was one of those times. But I did not know the answer.
