“I am a Hajj pilgrim from the northern part of Pakistan, where the snow covers mountain tops, to be more specific. I have not yet recovered from the exhaustion of chasing the dream of Hajj. Now, I feel a lightness within my soul that makes me forget the hardships I faced getting here. The dream of preforming Hajj has always resided within my soul, long before the white hairs -you see- had covered my beard, and taken me to an age bracket where there aren’t many. To be honest, I spent the better part of my life in pursuit of this dream (to come to Hajj). On Arafat and the Mountain of Mercy, I looked at the white sea of pilgrims asking Allah for His mercy. I could not help but break into tears. I did not care that I was surrounded by men, as I wept like a child. My tears were honest. We’d feel a cool breeze every now and then, and took it as a sign of our accepted prayers. Oh, if only everyday was Arafah!”